Two for two. I was beginning to develop a suspicion about what kind of week I was about to have.
Behind me, Dominic let out a tight exhale.
Three Ashenmere elders held the line at Yuki’s left. The fourth from the head was Morag Vale. Cane against the heel of her boot. Face a careful blank.
Rhain went to her before Yuki. He bent his head as he passed. Not the standard bow allowed for council elders. A deeper one. The one reserved for centuries.
Morag didn’t return the bow. Her chin dipped, barely, and held. She’d marked him and let him pass.
Behind Rhain, Bjorn allowed himself an amused huff.
Yuki began the introductions. Bjorn went to her first. He stopped three steps short of her. Yuki didn’t adjust. She held her position at the head of the line and waited.
Bjorn inclined his head. The bow was correct but a half-second too long. The other dragons didn’t look at each other.
Something was off. I didn’t know what I was watching. Rhain had gone briefly still on Bjorn’s right. Two of the Ashenmere elders had found something fascinating about their own hands. The silent Norwegian security dragon was looking at a wall as if the wall was his long-lost lover.
Yuki said nothing. The exchange lasted perhaps two seconds. Then the room re-leveled itself by silent collective agreement. Bjorn took a half step back.
Yuki turned to the rest of the delegation. Rhain crossed the floor with relaxed precision. He’d been taught exactly how much charm a hostile room would tolerate before charm became an insult.
“Lord Solberg.”
“Yuki Mendel-Ashenmere.”
“Welcome to Ashenmere.”
“It’s a pleasure to be received.” His voice was lighter than I had expected. Norwegian-inflected English, consonants precise, cadence trained. A diplomat’s voice.
“The State Department translator,” Yuki said. “Catalina Cordero.”
Rhain’s eyes came to me. I’d practiced what my face was going to do for this exact second. My face did approximately seventy percent of what I’d practiced.
The other thirty percent was unavailable due to dragons.
“Ms. Cordero.”
“Lord Solberg.”
“Cordero,” he repeated. He let it rest in the air.
The smile changed by half a degree. “Lamb,in Spanish. Yes?”
“That’s right.”
“And do you live up to the name?”
“I’d say no.”
His smile widened. “Pity,” he said, and somehow made the word sound less like disappointment than invitation.
He was a foot inside the boundary diplomatic protocol prescribed. I could smell his cologne, something with juniper in it, and underneath the cologne, the warmer base note of dragon under skin.
It was nothing like Dominic. Dominic smelled like cedar and heat held under stone. Rhain smelled like cold air, sharp green branches, and trouble that had learned table manners.
I didn’t move. Neither did he.
Yuki, beside me, didn’t turn her head. Bjorn, behind Rhain, hummed under his breath.I am watching this and not interferingyet.
