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She eyes him, but returns her gaze to me. “Our home was dying. Another year, and it would have folded in on itself. Out of all the dimensions, this is one we could not open, and it is the only one with enough sunlight to offer us sufficient sustenance.”
“Why is he just staring and not speaking?” Dice asks, looking past her.
“He has not been taught the art of English. Only a handful of the elders passed down the language they learned while servicing this dimension. I was the serf selected for this task because of my language skills.”
“So you just wanted to meet and greet, swear your safe, and go live in harmony?” Dice asks. “And serf? You’re a slave?”
She bows humbly. “I serve the Hubair.”
“Hugh Bear?” Dice laughs, and she bites down on her lip.
“It is the name of the red dragon court. Unfortunately, there is no translation in English for this word, to my understanding. Though my understanding is outdated and poorly limited.”
She’s belittling herself, as though she’s worried of offending anyone. True fear shines in her eyes. She was flown in instead of flying in herself.
“You’re not dragonite, are you?”
A cold looks sparks in her eyes.
“I am part dragonite. I suffer a deficiency that does not allow me to shift or use any of the abilities one might expect a dragonite to have.”
“You’re powerless?” Dice asks, not laughing. “They sent a powerless girl to meet with possible hostiles, and asked a dragon to fly away and leave her behind if anything occurred. And you’re a slave?”
“It is an honor to serve the Hubair,” she says with an obligatory tone, bowing. “They hoped you would find me less threatening and be willing to listen. As I said, we understand the perception of us, but we can assure you it will be different this time. The Audair himself promises this.”
“Audair?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “Prince? I believe you call them princes. Audair Niro has blessed this peace offering. Budair—”
“You like the similar words, don’t you?” Dice asks.
The girl looks so confused every time he opens his mouth.
“Budair?” I prompt.
“Umm... King. The king sent me. King Morlope.”
“Those are some weird names,” Dice sighs.
“Says someone named after a gambling piece and a girl.”
“Hashtag—you went there. It’s on now, glitter boy. Just wait until I come back with a witty retort.”
The poor girl is just utterly lost now.
“I only understood the context of a couple of those words,” she confesses.
“You come in peace. How can we be sure?” I ask her.
She reaches for my hand, and I growl. She jerks back, eyes wide, and she tilts her head. “You’re one of us,” she whispers in shock.
“Only partially.”
“But you’re mated,” she says in awe, eyeing the odd mark on my inner wrist. It just turned up this morning.
“Mated?” Dice asks, looking at me.
At least now I know what that mark means, though I don’t understand how that weird symbol signifies a mating. Nor do I know what a mating means.
