“Before we decide on attire.” I glance up, letting the morning sun bathe my face while I’m thinking. “We must settle on our story.”
“Story?” Surath says with disdain. “Do you meanlies?”
I look toward her, and her ripe red hair billows around her features. Surath is objectively beautiful, but more terrifying than any woman I’ve ever encountered.
I will not be intimidated. “Would you prefer if I tell everyone that you are dragon shifters?”
Glaring, Surath folds her arms over her chest.
I straighten my posture. “I’ll tell everyone you’re my servants.”
“Not a chance,” Xendus barks. “I’ve had more than enough years of servitude.”
I shift my stance. “Fair enough.” In hindsight, my suggestion was highly insensitive. “Perhapsyoucan be a fellow dragon rider.” I nod toward Xendus. “And Surath…” I shrug. When concocting stories, it’s always best to stick close to the truth. “Surath is your lover.”
“Yes, she is.” Xendus frowns.
I grin. He can be so literal. “No, what I’m saying is—we have no need fordeceptionwhen it comes to Surath. No dragon riders have mates, but many are known to favor certain courtesans.” I tip my head to the side. “No one will question this explanation.”
“Riders can’t marry?” Surath asks.
“There’s no explicitruleagainst it,” I tell her. “Except for the dragon masters. Dragon masters vow to never marry.”
She smirks. No doubt thinking about why Saxon can’t marry Rosomon—even if she weren’t already married to Zogar.
“But that’s why riders don’t typically take wives,” I tell them. “It would ruin their chances of ever attaining the rank of dragon master.”
Surath shakes her head, clearly thinking this is foolish. And perhaps it is. So few riders ever attain that rank, although I’ve always assumed that someday I will.
“As for your names…” I tip my head to the side. “They too might be an issue.”
Surath frowns. “Why?”
“They aren’t common in Khotor.”
“They aredragonnames,” Xendus says gruffly. “Strong names.Ournames.”
“We could say you hail from Nathia or Sidonia.” I shake my head. “No. That’s too risky.” Someone might be at court from those kingdoms. I narrow my eyes as I look at the two shifters. “Xander and Sarah. Those names are not only common, they are close to your own.”
Surath frowns, her nose wrinkling with distaste. “Sarah?Are false names truly necessary?”
I shrug. “Just for introductions. If asked, I’ll tell everyone you’re both from Catha.” Catha, the seat of Othrix, is the most mysterious of the Seven Kingdoms and the farthest away from the veil.
“Acceptable.” Xendus grunts.
“And our clothing?” Surath runs her hand over the riding uniform she made using magic. Or maybe Xendus did. I have no way of knowing.
“Will anyone be able to tell that your clothes are an illusion?” I ask.
A breeze rustles the grasses and Surath sneezes.
“Othrix bless you,” I say.
“What?” She frowns.
“It’s just a saying.”
She shakes her head. “Only those with Darkness will be able to detect the illusion.” She runs her hand over the jacket of the rider uniform she’s wearing. Certainly no one would be fooled into thinking she’s a man. “Are these clothes acceptable?”
