The drasgard nods. “Follow me.”
The other drasgard fall in around them, so Sei barely sees the dark stone hallways. Nobody gets close enough to touch Sei, and they’re clearly escorting him. Guarding him. Yet Sei still feels hastened. Like if he slows down, they’ll shove him forward.
Don’t invent trouble, Sei scolds himself. This is exactly what he wanted: progress. To be released from the limbo of this unfriendly fortress.
“Excuse me, sir,” Sei asks as they reach the cavernous main hall. “Do you know why my departure was delayed?”
The lead drasgard looks back at him, a frown on her face. “If I knew, I’m sure I couldn’t tell you.”
“That’s too bad.” Sei gives her a small smile. “Thank you regardless.”
She seems surprised, like she’d been braced for an argument. “I’m sure you’ll get an explanation soon. It’s been fucking chaos around here.”
In the courtyard, the lead drasgard ushers Sei to a patch of shade. He appreciates not squinting in the sunlight, but the breeze is colder than it felt from his balcony. Once the caravan is underway, Sei plans to change his light coat for a warmer one from the bags. He can do that on the journey. No need to unpack everything in the courtyard dust.
Their spot in the shade is far from the main gate, but Sei will still have a good view of the escort caravan when it arrives. Except nobody else is looking towards the main gate. Everyone’s gazes are fixed overhead.
Sei’s heart catches in his throat when he looks up too.
He’s never seen dragons before, but there’s no mistaking the three dark shapes winging across the blue-gray sky. Barrel chests and sturdy, snakelike necks, with sinuous tails trailing behind them. Bat-like wings slice through the air.
Only their shapes are apparent at first, until the trio circles close and their vibrant scales catch the sunlight. The smallest is black with vivid green mottling its flanks and wings. Another is burnt orange and yellow, warm as an ember. The largest dragon leads the trio—varied shades of dark blue, glossy and nearly iridescent. Sei barely glimpses the harness straps around their shoulders before blue wings spread wide enough to block out the sun, and shadows blanket the courtyard.
This is why the courtyard is so large.
Sei throws up his arm as dust whips along the walls. But he can’t resist squinting between his fingers as the massive blue dragon alights in the center of the courtyard. The orange dragon lands beyond, and the black and green dragon remains high overhead.
As the wind settles, the blue dragon retracts their wings. Their neck curves like a swan’s, wedge-shaped head pivoting to survey the entire courtyard. Glossy dark horns give way to blunt spikes along the ridge of their spine, down to where the dragonrider sits at their shoulders.
Sei is more interested in the dragon, since he’s seen humans plenty before. Until the rider sits back in his harness and pulls the helm from his head. What little sunlight escapes the clouds seems to coalesce around him, illuminating the shake of his dark blue hair.
Then the clouds deepen, and the sunlight vanishes. The dragonrider is just an ordinary man, unbuckling himself from the harness.
“This way,” the drasgard next to Sei says.
Heart still pounding and legs barely wobbling in awe, Sei follows as bidden. This can’t be his escort, right? Surely nobody expects Sei to ride a dragon.
A commotion rises across the courtyard. Two people have descended from the orange dragon, and one attempts to move towards Sei. The other person marches her instead to the scalestone wagon. Sharp voices collide, then fall quiet.
The blue dragon’s rider pauses halfway out of his harness. Then he slides to the ground and pats his dragon’s elbow, before striding over. Sei is once again dumbstruck by the sight of this man. He’s even more impressive up close. His wyrmskin jacket accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, and in that moment, the rider exudes such raw, casual strength, he’s as much a creature of legend as the dragon he rides.
He’s also tall. Exceptionally tall.
“Sei Mallory?” the rider asks.
This close, every detail of the rider’s face is entrancing. A short, dark beard outlines his rugged jaw. He would probably be paler than Sei without his weathered tan. His eyes are deep purple, nearly black except when the light catches them.
“Yes,” Sei answers, hoping his astonishment doesn’t show on his face.
He only notices the nearby drasgard saluting when the rider nods. “I’m Marek Dire. Is that your luggage?”
Sei blanks out for a moment. He knows that name—Marek Stormrider, Second Prince of Draskora. The younger brother of Sei’s soon-to-be betrothed. Sei should be saluting. Or bowing. Certainly not admiring.
“Yes,” Sei manages again.
Before Sei can decide whether to bow, Marek takes one of the bags. Then the other. “Great. Get on the dragon—we’re due in Ostomar tonight.”
Both bags slung over his shoulder, Marek grabs Sei’s arm and urges him forward.
