“It’s the rig base, not a collar.” Marek doesn’t sound mad, just firmly correcting Sei. “We only take the rig base off every few months, to re-fit and clean. We check the fit and condition every time we rig up, of course. But the rig base makes harnessing quicker in an emergency. That’s for off-duty. On-duty, we keep the whole rig on.”
Sei frowns. “That sounds uncomfortable. Do the dragons mind?”
What a considerate… person you have found, Marek.Loska sounds amused—and like he was about to call Sei something more specific.
“If the dragons minded the harnesses, no force in this world would be able to keep them on,” Marek says. “Dragons are easier than horses that way, though. The bond lets us each clearly explain what we need and why we’re doing things. Dragons can—and will—tell us if they’re uncomfortable.”
“That makes sense.” Sei finds the patch of rough scales. They’re ragged on the edges, with dirt ground in. “Do I just brush?”
Marek moves closer behind Sei. They don’t touch, but somehow Marek’s presence is warmer than the dragon beneath them. “Just like currying a horse. Try it.”
“I’ve never curried a horse either.” Sei puts the brush to Loska’s scales regardless. He tries to gently brush the debris away, but only seems to be stirring it up, not getting rid of it.
“Here.” Marek leans forward—and covers Sei’s hand in his. “Harder.”
The word burns through Sei’s ears with the brush of Marek’s breath. Every thought scatters in inappropriate directions. Marek’s strong, powerful hand feels incredible, his palms warm against Sei’s knuckles. He moves Sei’s hand with the brush in a firm flicking motion that whisks the dirt away.
“That’s right.” Marek’s approval doesn’t help, heating Sei’s blood even as Marek releases his hand and moves back. “Wild dragons shed scales before any surface damage becomes a problem. But we have to be more careful with the pressure of the harness and the specific movements of combat.”
Desperate to think about something, anything that isn’t the memory of Marek’s broad hand, Sei asks, “How does the dragonbond work, anyway?”
Marek sits back like he’s poised for takeoff, minus the harness. “Dragons are very particular creatures. They’re as social as they are aggressive. Most wild dragons find a balance that suits them, but some of them get restless. Combine that with their inherent magic, and they can get a little… crazy over the years.”
“Like Loska attacking your clan?” Sei asks, then tenses. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that.
I wasn’t crazy,Loska protests.I was bored.
“You know that’s worse, right?” Marek nudges Loska’s side with his heel. “Exactly like Loska attacking Helra. Turns out some humans and dragons balance each other out. A bond forms if there’s the right bond.”
Loska’s scales look better. Sei touches the brushed-out spot, which now feels just as smooth as the rest of Loska. “A bond forms if there’s a bond?”
“Circular, right? People like Radovan will argue about how it works forever. I just know what me and Loska have.” Marek is more relaxed than Sei has seen him before. “Our magic is stronger and more stable. We can communicate quicker than thought—not just the mental voice like Loska uses with others. And Loska is happy, well-fed, and unlikely to rampage across the countryside.”
Sei has trouble imagining that from Loska. “Would you really be like that without the bond?”
Loska rumbles contentedly beneath them.Without the bond, I would eat Kamil first.
“What? Why?” Sei has barely met Kamil, but the man seems fine.
I don’t know. He just annoys me. Something about his face.
Across the ledge, Kamil continues napping peacefully on his dragon’s back. He’s too far away and has a hat propped over his face, so Sei will have to examine him more closely later.
“It will probably be difficult to court Yavran if you eat Kamil,” Sei points out.
Loska rumbles again.Good point. I will have to decide which is stronger. Adoration or aggravation?
Marek laughs, and cautious delight flutters in Sei’s chest. He hadn’t been trying to amuse Marek, but this is good. Today marks perhaps the first hint of progress in Sei’s plan to make his claimant like him.
Sei doesn’t dare hope for adoration. He’ll settle for a lack of aggravation.
Someone emerges from a corridor and enters the tack room. By her uniform, she’s either an aide or adjutant. Sei doesn’t really know the difference yet. He’s more interested in her hair—long braids of pastel pink and green. What would Sei look like with dyed hair? Blue like Marek’s, or green streaks like Kamil? Or something else entirely?
As Marek works on the scales where the harness sits, Sei walks along Loska’s back. It’s easier than he expected, the dragon firm beneath him. “Can you feel me walking?” Sei asks. Talking to Loska is becoming more natural. Easier in some ways than talking to Marek.
Yes. You have nice feet.
Sei muffles a laugh—but before he can reply, Loska slips into his head again.
