“That’s…unusual, isn’t it?” Varis leaned forward and frowned.
“It is.” Rydel sped up until they circled into the estate’s stables and passed the reins of the horses off to the first stable boy that came running.
Varis glanced at his fathers and slid from the carriage, following Rydel.
They pushed in through the great front doors and traversed the estate, his fathers following close in tow behind them as they approached the entrance by the wyvern stables.
“Draenvir?” Varis called out as Rydel halted at the foot of the steps and stared up at a wild-faced male. “What’s wrong?”
Utter defeat drew its ugly veil over Draenvir’s pretty features, eyes as green as emeralds and clovers going glassine. “Where’s Ghreid?”
“I’ll ring the bell for him.” Rydel circled around them and jogged up the stairs to ring the great bell for the estate. Wherever Ghreid was, he’d hear it.
“What’s wrong, Envi?” Varis’s heart skipped a beat, and the worry tore through him like nothing ever had. Nausea, fear, more so than when the ship first crashed. Fear unlike the day he left home. Everything coalesced.
“I’ll speak when Ghreiden comes. He should hear it first.” Draenvir jogged to the foot of the steps and wrapped Varis in a tight hug. “Is there any chance you know if you carry, yet?”
Varis lamely shook his head, and Draenvir stifled a sob. Tears flowed as a minute then two passed.
The thunder of open wings broke the air, and Ghreid came jogging down, shirt bunched in his arms. He’d not fully shifted, drawing his wings in as he stared down at his teary-eyed brother and Varis.
“Brother?” Ghreid stared him down and swallowed.
“They’re gone. Father and Mother.” Draenvir’s strangled voice broke.
“Gone? They woke and—” Ghreid’s face, melting into uncertainty, froze.
Draenvir shook his head. “Their souls have moved on.”
Both dragons turned their attention to Varis. “Is there a—”
“Graylan?” Ghreid glanced at Draenvir.
“On his way. He’ll be six or so hours behind me.” Draenvir panted heavily. “For now, I need food and drink.”
The wind had gone from his sails, panic driving him as Varis guided their guest to the dining hall. Ghreid whispered to Rydel on the way by, something about mourning and food, extra for their guest.
Varis’s and his fathers’ confusion must have been apparent because Rydel beckoned them to come with him as Ghreid and Draenvir went their own way.
“The house has been ordered into mourning. I’ll have clothes laid out for you, my lord, and for the guests, we’ll—” Rydel quieted when Mykel raised a hand.
“We have mourning scarves to throw on.” Mykel smiled as Varis rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Nen.” Varis leaned in to press his temple to his father’s, a gesture of affection. Navigating his horns took effort, but they rested there for a moment.
“Change. Give them an hour or so, and we’ll meet in the dining hall. Lord Varis, follow me.” Rydel gave Varis’s fathers a slight bow, more of a nod than anything before escorting him away, past the kitchens with orders to send a dragon’s fare of food.
“Why does Draenvir need so much—” Varis stumbled, and Rydel whipped around and stabilized him, patting his shoulder.
The stern twist of an expression dominating his face morphed into pity. “It is extraordinarily taxing on a dragon to take their greater form for a journey. The amount of food they need to replenish can drive them to hunger and primal actions. It’s reserved for emergencies and short distances alone.”
“Thank you.” Varis nodded as they wound their way through the estate, informing servants of the passing of a king.
“I was prepared for a death, but not the king and queen.” Rydel opened Varis’s closet and dug through, finding him a darkpair of slacks and a flowing darker tunic, layered with a cowled neck as he preferred. Rydel removed the adornments from Varis’s horns and stared, looking from him to the assortment of chains brought by Lapryda on his last visit.
“What seems to be the matter? Are there no mourning adornments?” Varis leaned over and looked among the fineries stretched and pinned down the velvet cushion.
“It… There’s a different protocol for—” Rydel tapped his chin. “And how areyoufeeling?”
