Sei has neglected his meditation recently. There’s nobody telling Sei to sit still, and preparing himself for use as a grail seems pointless. His mage doesn’t want to use him, after all.
That book must be fascinating,Osric says.You’re so absorbed, you haven’t noticed Marek standing in the doorway for the past five minutes.
Sei jerks his head up. Sure enough, Marek’s presence fills the doorway. Golden light brightens his dark hair, but his gaze is unreadable.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Marek says, moving into the room.
“No, you didn’t.” Sei feels awkward and ungainly. Should he clamber out of bed and bow? Or just stay here? Osric hasn’t moved at all. “Is something the matter? Osric says you’ve been there for five minutes.”
Osric’s laughter runs silently through Sei’s head as Marek stops. If this wasn’t Marek Stormrider, Wing-Marshal and Prince of Draskora, Sei would say Marek lookedawkwardnow. But thisisMarek, so surely that can’t be true.
“You just looked comfortable. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Marek looks around, as if avoiding Sei’s gaze. “Why is it so clean in here?”
“I just put a few things away, Your Highness.”
Marek grimaces. “Don’t do that. You’re not a servant.”
Sei marks that down on his mental list of things Marek dislikes. This is a good one—Sei doesn’t particularly enjoy cleaning. “How was your meeting?”
“Good.” Marek opens a wardrobe and stops short. He doesn’t say anything about all of Sei’s clothing hanging up, though. “How was your reading?”
“Interesting.” Sei extricates himself from his cozy blanket and fellcat nest. Osric stretches out to take the rest of the space as Sei hops down. “I was reading about… now what’s wrong, Your Highness?”
Marek grabs Sei’s navy coat from the wardrobe and tosses it over. “Put this on. You’re not wearing enough.”
Sei barely catches the coat. He hadn’t felt cold until Marek said something, but it’s true. His silk pajamas are very thin, and the loose collar doesn’t help. Marek’s consideration is even warmer than the coat, though. Beneath his intimidating presence, Marek is such a nice person.
If only he liked Sei, even a little.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Sei says, wrapping the coat around himself.
Marek doesn’t look at him until the coat is on. “What were you reading?”
“I was reading about wraiths,” Sei answers. “They sound terrifying.”
Marek closes the first wardrobe and moves to another, which still has his things in it. “Why were you reading about wraiths?”
Because Marek hasn’t been around to answer Sei’s questions. “Because they’re important, and I don’t know anything about them.”
“Let me see that book.” Marek moves to the bed, hesitates, then takes the book from beside Osric’s fluffy belly. “Legendarium Draskora. This book is just scary stories to frighten children and scholars. Of course wraiths sound terrifying if this is what you’re reading.”
“The book says they’re giant dragons made of bone, darkness, and malice,” Sei says. “They descend upon Draskora from beyond the northern sea. Is that true?”
“That part’s true,” Marek concedes.
“The book also says they have a ravenous hunger for human and dragon flesh.”
“That part’s true too.”
“What’s missing?” Sei asks, because that all sounds pretty terrifying to him.
“The part where we fight back,” Marek Stormrider says, teeth bared in a fierce and glorious grin. “Sure, wraiths are scary. They’re damn near impossible to kill. But they’re not invincible.”
Sei’s heart skips a beat. “What hurts them?”
“Magic, dragonfire, and scalestone.” Marek returns the book.
Sei holds it to his chest. “Of course. It’s always about scalestone here.”
