Before Sei can muster a response, the bedroom door thuds closed. Marek is gone.
The puppet strings of Sei’s willpower snap. He stumbles backwards. Not quite making it to the couch, he sits down hard on the rug instead. Osric bounds over, clearly concerned, and Sei can’t control himself anymore. He flings his arms around Osric’s neck and sobs.
Ribs hurting with each ragged cry, Sei sobs out all his disappointment and frustration. He was good. He did as he was told, just like always. How has everything gone so wrong?
Except from everyone else’s perspective, nothing has gone wrong.
Sure, Prince Vana is gone, and Lady Naoko was ushered off unceremoniously. But at the end of the day, the result is the same. Fellrin got their scalestone. Draskora got their Porcelain Guild grail, legally bound to a prince of House Dire. After all this commotion dies down, the only lives upended will be Marek’s and Sei’s.
Marek is a prince and a dragonrider. He can do whatever he wants with the situation. He has his friends, subordinates, family, and dragon. Sei only has Osric, and while he’s beyond grateful for that much, Osric is also stuck in a foreign land. Sei’s life is now completely dependent on a man who can’t stand the sight of him.
Osric just nuzzles the top of Sei’s head, letting Sei cry until he’s all cried out.
Eventually, Sei releases his grip on his fluffy best friend and slumps back against the couch. Sniffling, Sei wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
Across the room, the cabinet swings open. Osric pads over to inspect its contents. Eight small jars float from the shelves. They dip and swoop across the room, sparkling in the warm light, to hover in front of Sei.
Which one says ‘hallabark’?Osric asks.
Sei has to squint. The jars are labeled, but the handwriting is messy. He plucks the correct jar from the air, even though the label looks more likehallabrrr. The other seven jars dance back into the cabinet as Sei opens the hallabark. There are handwritten instructions in a much neater hand on the back of the jar, so Sei puts both tablets under his tongue.
The sweet, faintly minty taste floods Sei’s senses. An unexpected calm washes over him. Like crying has purged the worst of his emotions, leaving Sei thinking clearly for the first time all day.
Sei isn’t helpless. He’s certainly not useless. And his present situation isn’t that different from the original plan.
From the sound of things, Prince Vana wouldn’t have wanted Sei either. That was never a guarantee, even if Vana wasn’t mated to his bodyguard—as Osric put it.
Sei spent his last week in Fellrin learning everything he could about Vana Dire. The time constraints meant he learned about the rest of House Dire only in passing. He knows only the most basic biographical details about his new claimant. Marek Helra Dire is twenty-five years old. His birthday is the fourteenth of Marsen, right after Sei’s birthday on the second of Marsen. Marek was adopted by the king as a teenager, and he’s now the wing-marshal of the Draskoran dragon corps.
Basic facts that tell Sei nothing about the man himself. But how much did Sei know about Vana to begin with? He knew more trivia. Nothing real.
“Thank you, Osric,” Sei says.
Osric tilts his broad head.You’ve made a decision.
“I have.” Sei rubs his eyes again. The painsoothers have melted away, but the taste lingers. “I’m stuck here in Draskora, and I’m stuck in this betrothal, so I have to accept that.”
Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been unable to think of an alternative.
“Prince Marek doesn’t like me,” Sei continues, his voice growing stronger. “But Idon’thave to accept that.”
Osric’s ears prick.
Sei loops his arms around his knees. “Marek doesn’t like me because he doesn’t know me. But he’s stuck with me too, and I’m very likable. So, I’m going to make this work.”
The comb for his hair. The painsoothers for his sore muscles. Marek isn’t a bad man. Sei could grow to like Marek, given a moment to breathe.
They don’t have to become lovers, and Sei doesn’t dare set his hopes that high. But they could at least become friends. They could become partners. Marek could at least use Sei the way a grail is meant to be used.
“I’m going to make Marek like me,” Sei declares, exhausted but determined. “Whatever it takes.”
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CHAPTER SIX
Marek
The third-floor lounge is full of off-duty riders, aides, and hangers-on. Tankards and cards cover every available surface. That’s normal. There are hours left until midnight, which means it’s prime carousing time.
