“What?” Vana asks.
Daromir gestures at the sky with a frown. “If the weather’s always like this, we’re both going to be lobsters.”
Broken out of his reminiscence, Vana leans against Daromir’s arm. “Would you still love me if I was a lobster?”
“No,” Daromir says immediately, and Vana bursts into laughter. He only laughs harder when Daromir rolls his eyes, and he’s near tears when Arla returns from the dock.
“They’re ready for you down below,” Arla says, as Vana wipes his eyes.
“Are you coming down with us?” Vana asks.
Arla hooks his thumbs in his belt. He suits his ship, dressing little better than his crew. His captain’s coat is patched and faded. “No, I’ll stay up here.”
There’s a look in Arla’s eyes like he also spent the morning remembering when Vana left Kaiskara. Arla doesn’t reach out, but when Vana sighs and wraps him in a hug, he hugs back.
“Write back this time, all right?” Vana says, tightening the hug.
“If I’m not too busy.” Arla blinks rapidly as he pulls away. He straightens his coat and looks around at the crew—who are all focusing elsewhere. Which means Arla isn’t watching out, and Vana takes the opportunity to ruffle Arla’s hair, just like when he was small.
“Ugh,” Arla protests, ducking away. “Get off my ship! Now!”
“Do I get a hug too?” Daromir asks.
“Absolutely not,” Arla says. “Take care of each other, all right?”
“We will,” Daromir promises.
Vana whistles for Stanza. She cocks her head but doesn’t hop over to Vana’s glove until she confirms he has a treat. She’s been acting very spoiled and entitled since she reached the waystation a day after Vana and Daromir—and Vana may have gone overboard indulging her out of relief that she followed. It’s good Silaise and Tavoc negotiated Vana’s landing so quickly, because he desperately needs to restock on hawk treats.
All this time, Vana envied Stanza her freedom. Her ability to leave at any time, only returning because she wanted to. It turns out Vana already had that ability. He just didn’t realize until he nearly lost Daromir.
Crew members carry their few belongings down first, and Vana stops Daromir before they reach the gangplank. “Wait.”
“Something wrong?” Daromir asks.
Vana shakes his head. “This is a new beginning. We should consider our first impressions. Start how we mean to continue.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone in Kaiskara treats bloodguards as invisible in public. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to go back. We tried to follow that custom in Draskora, but was that the right thing to do?” Vana searches Daromir’s face. “Do we want to do that again here?”
“Tell me what you want,” Daromir says, and lifts a hand before Vana can protest. “Not because I’ll just go along with it. I just want to know what you’d prefer. If I disagree, we can fight about it later.”
Vana adjusts his arm beneath Stanza. His answer is obvious. He always preferred Marek to Imrik and Aliza, and part of that is how Marek treated Daromir. “I think it would be nice to be seen as partners, instead of master and servant.”
“That will certainly be less awkward when you take my name.” Daromir takes Vana’s unoccupied hand and caresses his wrist, under the cuff of his sleeve. “Honestly, I don’t care. As long as they don’t interfere with my job, sure. I guess people are allowed to talk to me.”
“That’s my social butterfly,” Vana says fondly.
A troop of guards waits at the dock and escorts them the short distance to Duchess Tavorai’s castle. Vana gets Stanza situated in a quiet room before the guards lead him and Daromir to the duchess’s audience chamber.
The chamber couldn’t be more different than the Ostomar throne room. Far smaller, the walls are painted in bright geometric patterns. A driftwood throne presides over a bench for supplicants.
The duchess doesn’t sit on the throne, though. A white-haired, bronze-skinned older woman, Duchess Gisele Tavorai leans on her cane. She’s deep in conversation with two people Vana last saw in very different circumstances.
Rakos Tem is as vibrant as ever, his mane of teal-green hair rivaling the murals in color. Instead of Draskoran military black, he wears a dark green coat with a white dragon across the back. Vana only catches a glimpse of the symbol before Rakos turns at their approach.
Beside Rakos stands his lover, Bellamy Sandry—who Vana once would have described as a fragile, quiet young man. Vana saw some new confidence breaking through that shell when they last met at a bloodmasque. Bellamy has clearly shattered the rest of his shell since then. He wears a Silaisan Skyguard coat too, and when he turns, there’s a new streak of teal in his light brown hair.
