“Timber bandits?” Aunt Tadelay asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Are they traipsing through forests and leaving with logs in their pockets?”
“I understand steam wagons and saws are involved.” Lockvale sipped from his glass, then looked up and down the table, as if seeking a less prickly conversation companion than Rysha’s aunt. His gaze settled on Trip. “Captain, you’re in the flier battalion, is that right?” He waved at the flier-shaped pin on Trip’s uniform.
“Yes, sir—my lord.”
Lockvale smirked at the slip, looking down his nose at Trip.
Rysha gritted her teeth, recognizing that condescending I’m-a-noble-and-you’re-not look. Maybe she should have told Trip to unleash his scylori, after all. Nobody lesser than a dragon would look down upon him then. Besides, it always seemed unfair to ask him to cloak his true nature, even if he hid it himself most of the time. She didn’t think any of his Wolf Squadron comrades had seen him exuding his natural power.
“Seen any battles with dragons?” Lockvale asked.
“Several. As has Rysha.”
“Oh yes. I’d heard one of your girls had become a soldier, Lord Ravenwood.” Lockvale’s gaze shifted to Rysha’s father. “How pedestrian.”
“We can’t all be as noble as land surveyors,” her father murmured.
Rysha caught Trip wincing, and she touched him under the table. She knew he’d meant to suggest she was doing the same kind of important and dangerous work that he was, not lead in to her or her family being insulted.
“Has the army come up with any idea about how to deal with these dragons yet, Captain?” Lockvale asked. “They are a tedious problem.”
“We have a few ideas. It’s true that we can’t simply keep reacting to attacks on our land.”
“That’s a certainty. I suppose the army isn’t the most imaginative institution though when it comes to solving problems, eh? You pilots just fly at things and shoot them, don’t you?”
“That’s my job, sir,” Trip said coolly, and Rysha knew he hadn’t made that slip, leaving off the my lord, accidentally.
“I’d prefer if you call me Lord Lockvale or my lord,” Lockvale had the gall to say. What an ass.
“We don’t always get what we prefer,” Trip said.
Rysha’s mother and father frowned at each other. They might not like Lockvale, but they would no doubt feel it their duty to ensure their class wasn’t snubbed by some commoner. To Rysha’s surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Aunt Tadelay’s mouth.
Trip, Rysha thought. Can you tell if he’s—
Storyteller! Shulina Arya spoke into her mind, the word thunderous as it bounced around inside Rysha’s skull.
Rysha gripped the table and managed not to fall off her chair. Yes?
There is a silver dragon snooping around your castle.
Rysha resisted the urge to correct the dragon about the house’s more modest label, and asked, What?
Trip looked at her and nodded. To let her know he was being included in the conversation too?
He will not speak with me. Shall I chase him off?
Any chance you could question him and find out why he’s here? Trip asked before Rysha could respond. He didn’t sound surprised in the least about this dragon.
If I can catch him, I can most certainly question him. Storyteller, is this your wish?
Yes, Rysha said, bemused that Shulina Arya would ask her permission, or at least her opinion, before acting. I’d like to know if my family is in danger. And I’d like for my family not to be in danger.
I will valiantly battle him and slay him if he’s a danger to them!
Questions first, please, Trip said, his gaze drifting back toward Lockvale, who’d found another dinner companion to chat with.
Rysha wanted to drag Trip off to a private corner to find out what he’d learned so far. As it was, she had to make an effort to speak with her brother again, lest her family find it odd that she and Trip were gazing silently at each other without talking.
Lockvale’s head came up. “Lady Ravenwood, I thank you and your staff for the fine meal, but I don’t believe I can eat any more. Lord Ravenwood, are you able to have that meeting with me now?”
Rysha’s father had only finished half the food on his plate and didn’t look like he wanted to leave the table, but he said, “Yes. Let’s go to my study.”
“Excellent. Have you any cigars to finish off the meal with? I do enjoy those imported Dakrovian ones of yours.”
Father’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and pointed toward the hall leading to his study.
Oh, he’s flying away from me, Shulina Arya cried, the disappointment ringing in Rysha’s mind. The coward!
Rysha tensed, feeling like she should be out there, on Shulina Arya’s back to help her chase down an enemy.
Mother cleared her throat. “I assume you’ll be spending the night, Rysha?” She looked at Rysha, tension tightening her eyes, then looked at Trip. “If so, I’ll have the maid take your friend to the guest wing. I trust he’ll stay there and that you’ll stay in your room. This isn’t a college dormitory—or an army barracks.”
Jhory and Krey snickered while Severin’s mouth dropped open and he glanced at Trip, looking appalled. Rysha’s cheeks warmed.
“Thank you for your generous offer of a guest room for Trip, Mother,” Rysha said, smiling through her teeth. “But we’ll be returning to the city tonight.”
Mother’s eyebrows flew up. “It’s after dark, and it’s a long ride back to the capital. Even if it weren’t, it’s not safe to travel the highways at night anymore.”
“We’re trained soldiers, Mother.” Rysha hesitated, debating if she should mention that they would ride Shulina Arya back, assuming she didn’t get into trouble with that silver dragon, and could be back in the city in less than an hour.
“That doesn’t mean you should court trouble.”
“…think she’s sleeping with a witch—mage?” Jhory whispered to Severin.
“If she is, what if he’s controlling her?”
“He doesn’t look like he could control his own prick.”
Rysha dropped her face into her hand. What had ever made her think that bringing Trip to a family dinner would be a good idea? For that matter, what had made her think bringing herself would be wise?
Rysha gazed toward the cloudy sky, glad it wasn’t raining, but feeling silly standing on the gravel drive a half mile from the house. Perhaps it had been premature to leave, but when her brothers had started speculating about whether Trip had used magic to make her fall for him, she hadn’t been able to take it any longer.
“She is coming back, right?” Trip asked dryly, his voice sounding over the chirps of crickets and hoots of owls in the trees around the lake.
“I’m sure she is. Can you still sense her?” Rysha remembered that his range was supposed to be forty or fifty miles when it came to detecting dragons and their prominent auras.
“I can. She’s about twenty miles that way.” He pointed east, toward the mountains.