Marek’s hand lingers on Sei’s arm for an extra moment. When Sei doesn’t fall on his face, Marek lets go, giving him space to breathe again.
The stone is gouged and chipped, more ragged towards the edge and smoother as it stretches towards the palace entrance. Sei has to hurry to keep up with Marek’s long stride. “Would you mind telling me who everyone is, Your Highness?”
“King Imrik’s the one with the crown,” Marek says. “Queen Aliza’s the one with red hair and a smaller crown. Prince Kazia is the grumpy little rat.”
There are more than three people gathered, but they’re close enough to be overheard now—Sei will have to learn their names later.
All thoughts of the welcome committee vanish when Sei notices a familiar crimson shape pacing back and forth. Pure joy lights through Sei’s exhaustion.
“Osric!”
At Sei’s voice, Osric bounds towards him. Six hundred pounds of muscle and fang might seem intimidating to some. But when Osric skids to a halt, Sei forgets all his dignity and drops to his knees. Flinging his arms around Osric’s neck, Sei buries his face in the white and crimson fur.
“It’s so good to see you,” Sei mumbles into the fluff.
Don’t hug me, silly boy,Osric scolds, though he makes no move to pull away. His chin nuzzles Sei’s shoulder.You’ll get fur all over.
“My clothes are ruined anyway. I’m so glad you’re still here.”
Of course I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. This place is terrible. Somebody needs to supervise you.
“You’re staying?” Sei asks, hoping he hasn’t misheard.
Obviously. Look at you. This is ridiculous. What are these idiots thinking? I insist you take a nap as soon as you’re done meeting this king and such.
The warmhearted scolding washes over Sei like a soothing balm. Osric is a fellcat—a species of large cat similar to tigers except for their magic and wider color variety. He’s also the closest thing Sei ever had to a family in the Porcelain Guild.
Sei was given to the guild younger than most children, and after he left the nursery, the instructors were always instructors first and foremost. Naoko’s visits were rare and terribly awkward. She clearly feels some connection towards Sei as his mother—but it’s not something Sei can ever reciprocate. He doesn’t hate her. He just doesn’t know her.
Have emotions into my fur later,Osric advises.You should probably get up and bow, or some other human gesture.
Right. Time to meet his new family—the ruling house of Draskora.
Sei straightens to his feet, attempting to brush the fellcat fur from his clothes. Ten paces from the small crowd, he stops and bows. His hair falls in his face, so he can’t see whoever approaches with steady footsteps.
“We’re glad for your arrival, Sei Mallory,” a man says, drawing closer. “Please rise.”
Sei obeys. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Does the crown give it away?” King Imrik asks, humor warming his stern visage.
Imrik isn’t Marek’s father by blood, but the first thing Sei notices about him is a similar sense of presence. This is a man who knows himself, who takes up space with confidence. His face is nearly sickly pale, and silver streaks his black hair, but in every other regard, he looks healthy and younger than his years. The white gold and scalestone crown doesn’t weigh him down at all.
Behind him must be Queen Aliza, her peachy complexion dusted with gold powder. A diamond circlet sits in her dark red hair. She regards Sei with curiosity, in strange contrast with the young man standing next to her. Marek’s description of Kazia Dire as a grumpy little rat is uncharitable but fitting.
No, grumpy might be an understatement. The young prince’s lavender eyes fix on Sei with frightening intensity. The wordpoisonouscomes to mind, and Sei returns his attention to the king in case eye contact angers Kazia even more.
Sei has never met such unabashed hatred from a stranger. Why would Kazia despise him so much when they’ve never met?
Perhaps Kazia is just like that with everyone.
Wingbeats hammer as Loska drops off the cliff edge and soars away. Marek hands Sei’s bags to a servant, then joins everyone.
“How was the flight, Marek?” Imrik asks.
Marek stops at Sei’s side—nowhere near close enough to touch, but Sei is still too aware of his presence. “No complications, Father. Has Vana…”
He trails off.
