“Then your brother is doing well,” Julien says, without his earlier cockiness. “He and Daromir are safe, and they’re spending a lot of time on the beach. According to Bellamy, Vana is starting to tan.”
Marek can’t imagine Vana relaxing on an island beach. Then again, Vana grew up on an island. Vana always seemed perfectly suited to Ostomar’s dark halls, but maybe his birthplace lingered in his heart. Just like Marek’s.
Whisper’s attention briefly focuses on Marek. “Discreet messages to Tavoc might be possible, if you were interested.”
The offer is kind. It’s also dangerous. Doubtless Whisper knows how to hide messages from Draskoran eyes, but the Silaisans would read everything anyway. That’s what Marek would do in their place.
“I’ll think about it,” Marek says, without commitment. “Speaking of settling in, Lucien, how are your dragons doing?”
Lucien raises his glass. “Our nice Silaisan weather agrees with them. Any advice?”
“Sure.” Marek matches Lucien’s toast. “Don’t fall off.”
Lucien grins, not quite as hostile now. “Brilliant. I don’t know why we didn’t think of that.”
According to reports from House Dire’s spies, the Silaisan dragon corps is off to a competent start. One thing in particular interests Marek. “I hear you ride without a dragonbond. How does that work?”
Whisper clears his throat.
“I wasn’t going to fucking tell him,” Lucien protests, waving Whisper off. “Sorry, Wing-Marshal. My genius dragonriding technique is a state secret.”
“Fair enough.” Marek drapes his arm around Sei’s shoulders. “We’ll have to carry on with our centuries of expertise.”
Apparently talking about dragons is the way to Lucien’s good graces. A happy accident. Marek is just genuinely interested in the Silaisan dragons’ wellbeing. Keeping wild dragons in Draskora is a strategic priority, but if any slip through the net, Marek wants them well taken care of.
Julien leans forward. “Speaking of secrets… Whisper?” At his lover’s nod, Julien continues. “I’m interested in two names. I wouldn’t ask you to search for them, but if you happen to come across anything, I’d appreciate a letter.”
Marek sips the rich wine. There are limits to hospitality. “I can’t agree to that.”
“Of course,” Julien says. “Only if it’s convenient.”
“Who are you looking for?” Marek asks.
Julien’s face softens as he looks up at Whisper, who answers instead. “We’re interested in two people who died or vanished eighteen years ago. They were likely a couple with a six-year-old child.”
Sei’s wine is half gone. Marek grabs the bottle to pour him some more. “That’s not much to go on.”
“They had enemies who could afford a Kennel Hound,” Whisper says lightly.
Marek pauses, then finishes pouring. “That would narrow it down.”
Sei’s fingers kiss Marek’s as he accepts his glass. “What happened to the child?” Sei asks.
“He vanished,” Whisper answers, his violet eyes steady.
Leaning back, Marek settles his arm around Sei again. “I can’t agree to anything, but if I run across names that might fit, I’ll consider it.”
“Only if it’s convenient,” Julien says again.
Before the room can fall silent, Whisper changes the subject. “I heard you have a fellcat too, Sei. What’s his name?”
The transition is a splash of cold water. Marek hates the thought of House Sandryhearingabout Sei. Like Sei is a political or military asset.
Even though Sei is exactly that as Marek’s claim and grail. Their relationship itself has political implications. Marek’s arm around Sei’s shoulder will be reported to Queen Margot as military intelligence.
But Sei lights up at the question, so Marek bites his tongue. Sei, Julien, and Whisper spend the rest of the meeting talking about how lovely and sweet their giant deadly cats are. Marek and Lucien spend the time pretending not to warily watch each other.
Only when they’re alone again does Sei’s smile drop away.
