Daromir needs something else to focus on, so he starts sorting the basket of mail that Zuzana must have brought in. Vana doesn’t appear to have touched any of it yet, which is good. He isn’t supposed to check his own mail without Daromir checking it first.
The routine task is just the distraction Daromir needs. He inspects each sealed scroll before setting it in the approved basket. There are messages from Sabora’s seneschal, Radovan Ark, and Naoko Mallory. Even a letter from Kazia—maybe Daromir will open that one, to save Vana’s blood pressure.
Midway through the pile, an unmarked gray scroll case feelsoffin Daromir’s hand. The weight isn’t right for the leather case. When Daromir tilts it, something slides from the middle of the case to the end.
Daromir’s mind turns cold and sharp. He sets the scroll case down carefully and steps several feet back from the desk.
A pitcher of water sits at the sidebar. Daromir pours a glass, then in a practiced movement, flings the water into the air. It falls, then freezes, a crystalline sculpture in midair.
Daromir sets the glass down and concentrates. The floating ice fractures into shards, reshaping without melting. Glittering and sharp, it reforms in a frosty dome encasing the surface of the desk and the scroll case beneath. Perfectly clear, every edge precise, like the finest glass.
Beneath the dome, the air swirls frosty white with Daromir’s magic. The temperature drops and drops.
Satisfied, Daromir pours himself a new glass of water. This one he sips as he waits. All his inappropriate thoughts are gone, leaving nothing but anticipation and control. He waits a full five minutes, then shatters the ice dome into a hovering chandelier. Each razor-sharp shard is ready to strike at the slightest mental flick.
From a distance, Daromir uses one ice shard to slice through the leather case. It falls open, and the blank paper within uncurls. At its center rests a motionless, dark-winged scorpion moth.
A splinter of ice pierces through the moth’s wing, pinning through the paper into the wooden desk. But it isn’t necessary. When Daromir moves closer, the moth is already dead. Either it was dead already, suffocated in the scroll case, or it died in the chill of his magic.
But the species is also clear. Dark red wings with markings like black feathers, its venomous stinger curled under its body. Scorpion moths aren’t native anywhere. They’re the result of ancient magical experimentation, and this one’s purpose is clear.
A threat on Vana’s life.
?
CHAPTER FIVE
Vana
Lady Naoko Mallory arrived in Draskora well over two weeks ago, landing in the same southern harbor Vana once arrived in. Vana doesn’t have to travel far to meet her—just the drasgard outpost half a day south of Ostomar. They’ll return to Ostomar by late evening, and King Imrik has deferred the formal audience and welcome party until tomorrow.
Vana doesn’t like that. The delay is fine, but the personal welcome is significant. It’s strange for King Imrik to make such a fuss over an ambassador without a treaty in question. Which means a treaty probablyisinvolved, but Vana is still out of the loop.
Over the past week, he’s done what research he can on Naoko Mallory. She’s the untitled wife of a baron and baroness in Fellrin. Her trade is primarily as a scholar, and she also invests in a number of Fellrian organizations, from the Takeran Library to the Porcelain Guild. She has ties to court, but so does every Fellrian noble.
Vana hardly dares hope for a simple academic exchange. That isn’t where King Imrik’s interests lie. Though Queen Aliza may very well be interested in the ambassador’s academic expertise. She’s become more and more interested in the science and art of medicine and magic over the years, especially since Radovan Ark came to court.
At least the weather is clear, and Vana doesn’t have to use magic on the ride to the outpost. Vana, Daromir, and the rest of their escort arrive before the ambassador, and the outpost captain sets them up under a festival awning. The bright silk is incongruous next to the severe constructions. This outpost looks much the same as any other. Twin fortresses flank the wide road, connected by a high black bridge. The gallows beneath the bridge is empty today, recently cleaned.
Drasgard checkpoints are plentiful throughout Draskora. Even when there aren’t any specific criminal warrants, scalestone laws require stringent supervision.
A servant offers Vana water while he waits. He almost declines until Daromir catches his gaze. Daromir doesn’t need to say anything out loud for the order to be clear, so Vana accepts the water after all.
Vana feels strangely out of sorts today. A barely-there ache in his thighs and shoulders. Almost as if he had joined Daromir training this morning like he wanted to. But Vana hadn’t had time, fitting in a meeting with Indra while Daromir worked out. It’s almost like he’s sharing Daromir’s soreness, except that’s impossible. The bond isn’t that sensitive.
The ambassador’s party arrives half an hour later, a cloud of dust surrounding half a dozen carriages. Vana walks out into the sunlight, Daromir at his heel—along with a full squad of drasgard from the outpost.
Imrik ordered Vana to be a good host. Vana isn’t sure how hospitable the customs inspection is, but that can’t be helped.
The first carriage is an elaborate red and gold affair, like a gilded onion. A servant helps the ambassador out and escorts her towards Vana. He bows low and announces, “Lady Naoko Mallory.”
Vana extends his arm. “Lady Naoko, I’m Vana Dire. On behalf of House Dire, welcome to Draskora.”
“Your Highness.” Naoko bows, then takes his offered arm. She’s in her fifties, dressed in dark trousers and a red brocade coat. Her hair is pinned back in a sleek black knot. “I’m honored that you came all this way to greet me.” Her grip is firm, and there’s a moment of sharp searching in her dark brown eyes.
“Would you like any water or wine while the drasgard inspect your carriages?” Vana asks, gesturing to the awning.
“Water would be lovely, Your Highness.” Naoko glances past Vana’s shoulder at Daromir as if expecting an introduction. When none arrives, she turns to look at the carriages instead. “I should warn you about the second carriage.”
