Sei’s laughter vibrates through Marek. “The hallabark is still working. Your cock isn’tthatbig.”
Marek grins, and strokes Sei’s hip. “That’s not what you said this morning.”
Are you going to fornicate on top of me?Loska asks—projecting to both of them, by the way Sei chokes.Go ahead if you must. Just know that I will commentate.
“No, no fornicating in the sky,” Sei says weakly. “With or without commentary.”
“Yeah, that’s advanced level flight. You need another year or two of training first.” Marek squeezes Sei’s hip again, then takes mercy on his husband and slides his arm back into the harness.
His husband. Fuck, that sounds good.
Sei leans back against him. “The dragon corps is even more exciting than I thought.”
“Draskora’s finest. Always making me proud.” Marek nuzzles against Sei’s shoulder. The hint of floral soap is barely there, whisked away by the rushing sky. It’s probably a good thing they needed to fly back to Talorna. Otherwise, Marek might have spent the next week in bed with Sei.
Which sounds like a great idea. But not quite as perfect as bringing his new husband back to his true home. In Talorna, they’ll be able to thrive and grow together without the chains of court politics. The northern shore is Marek’s domain. He’s sure Sei will love it too.
We’re getting to the boring part,Loska complains not long after.Make us go faster.
The landscape below is a patchwork of blackened hillsides and mist-shrouded valleys. The mist conceals all manner of dangerous creatures, and the surrounding sky is cold and slow. Marek doesn’t mind the view, but he’s happy to indulge Loska. He wants to reach Talorna faster too.
Marek mentally nudges agreement to Loska, then stretches out his magic. His next breath connects him to the sky. The wind surges and twists to his will. The sky has always been part of Marek, but today it’s so, so easy.
Loska’s elation hums through their bond. The magic that keeps him aloft surges with every wingbeat. New wind propels them faster. The rush is exhilarating, easier than—
“Marek!” Sei bites out.
Horror shatters Marek’s exhilaration. Brings him back into the present. The harness pins Marek against Sei’s rigid body—and Sei’s soft magic seeps into him.
Marek yanks away from the connection, abruptly severing the new tailwind. Loska snarls in surprise, and theyplummet. A single gut-twisting moment before Loska catches them with a violent snap of his wings.
What was that?Loska demands.
“Fuck, Sei, I’m so sorry.” Marek slips his arm free, compulsively checking the straps. Panic buzzes beneath his skin. “Are you all right?”
Sei trembles. “I’m fine. You didn’t have to stop. I just didn’t expect you to use me right then.”
I didn’t expect that either,Loska tells Marek, eavesdropping.Your mate has nice magic.
“I didn’t mean to,” Marek says, his horror rising with every word. “It was an accident.”
“Of course. That makes sense.” Sei takes a deep breath. His intentional relaxation is obvious. “Sharing magic is easier when grail and mage are more intimate. Which describes a wide range of connections, but to get very specific…” Sei’s voice warms. “I feel much closer to you after last night.”
In any other circumstance, that memory would heat Marek’s blood too. Instead, Sei’s easy forgiveness only worries Marek more. “So, the closer we get, the more likely it is that I might take your magic without intending to?”
Sei doesn’t answer at first. He must sense Marek’s concern. “We just need to practice more. Your control will improve the more we—”
“No.”
Sei goes rigid again. “What?”
“We can’t do this.” Marek hates having this conversation now. Far above the ground, where neither of them can escape and breathe for a moment. But Marek can’t pretend to be okay with this for another fucking minute. “I can’t use you as a grail.”
Sei takes another deep breath. “You stopped when I said to stop.”
He sounds calm. Reasonable. Marek might have been persuaded, except he can read Sei too well by now. When Sei called out his name, Marek heard the fear hidden in his voice.
That fear hammers home the risks. Every reason Marek shouldn’t claim a grail punches like nails between his ribs.
