On most people, the bright pink wyrmskin would be overpowering. Sei, however, is far more vibrant than the jacket. Not just his new hair—which he’s letting grow out a bit. Right now, the right half is solid blue, and the left half an even more shocking pink.
Far more captivating is Sei’s growing confidence stalking the halls of Talorna. Authority suits him.
Sei has his own rank and salary in the dragon corps now. As Marek’s direct subordinate, he doesn’t answer to anyone else. He even manages his own guards when he leaves Talorna without Marek at his side. Marek and Sei are still figuring out the right balance of freedom and protection. But every week has been better than the last.
Marek, meanwhile, never knew how nice leaning on someone else could be. How much he needed an adjutant he can trust with everything.
Osric stretches to his feet and nuzzles against Sei’s hip, leaving crimson fur bright against his dark purple trousers. Sei scritches vigorously behind Osric’s ear, only worsening the debris from the fellcat’s plush winter pelt.
“None of your business,” Sei mutters to Osric.
If the fellcat replies, it’s to Sei alone. Osric bumps his head against Sei one more time, then slinks out the door.
Sei brushes the fur from his trousers with limited success. “Are you free, Wing-Marshal?”
“I’m always free for you, Adjutant,” Marek says, because the new title still thrills Sei. “Report.”
Sei closes the door and approaches the desk. “I have four items to bring to your attention. First, ground and sky patrols have once again failed to locate Lord Radovan.”
Marek leans back in his comfortable chair. “That’s a shame. Let’s redouble our efforts for a week, before we shift to winter routines.”
Concealing the death has proven simple enough. All the clues in Ostomar point to Radovan’s intentional disappearance. Gossip says Queen Aliza’s tantrum has been legendary, and King Imrik has ordered Radovan to be captured alive—with or without his eyeballs.
Marek still doesn’t know what Radovan was working on. But he knows who to ask next time he’s in Ostomar.
“More good news.” Sei has two scrolls in his hand. He absently taps them on the surface of the desk. “Miklan and Ludvik have bonded.”
Irenka Miraz’s dragon and former adjutant. Marek had hoped stationing Ludvik in the dragon roosts would inspire a bond, since he was already familiar with Miklan.
“That’s good. Miklan needed a rider.” Marek points. “What are the letters?”
Sei presents the first. “To you from Prince Vana.”
The parchment seems to burn the tips of Marek’s fingers. He hasn’t spoken to Vana since dropping him off in the southern forests. As much as Marek shares with Sei, he still needs to read this alone. So he tucks the scroll away in a desk drawer.
“Three out of four items reported,” Marek says. “Why is this one last?”
“Because it’s not addressed to you.” Sei hands over the scroll, its seal already broken. “Kazia sent it to me.”
Sei sits on the arm of Marek’s chair as Marek reads the letter. Sei’s hand rests on Marek’s shoulder for balance, and Marek has to read the letter three times through his distraction.
“Kazia says he’s giving me one-third stake in an estate called Sabora,” Sei summarizes helpfully. He twirls a lock of Marek’s hair. “He says it’s a wedding gift. What is he scheming?”
“I don’t think he’s scheming.” Marek frowns. “At least, not in a bad way. He’s giving you a source of income completely separate from me and the dragon corps.”
Sei pats Marek’s hair down. “Oh. Huh.”
“I’d suspect him of currying favor, but Kazia never curries favor with anyone besides our parents.” Marek rolls up the scroll and sets it aside. “You should accept the gift.”
“I will.” Sei’s hand wanders to the back of Marek’s neck, tracing his hairline. “What do you mean about Kazia currying favor with the king and queen? I thought they favored him already.”
“He acts differently with them. Pretends to be sweet.” Marek looks up. “Why do you ask?”
Sei frowns. The afternoon light glows brighter through the pink half of his hair. “I don’t know. I just think something isn’t quite right with him.”
Months ago, Marek might have laughed off the suggestion. Somethingisn’tquite right with Kazia—his poisonous attitude. Literally poisonous, considering the scorpion moth incident.
But Marek trusts Sei’s judgment.
