“Something I cannot do with an audience gawking over my shoulder,” Elang said.
“Sorry.”
“If you’re sorry, you’ll leave.”
Seryu glared at his cousin, but he heeded the instruction, and we left for the hall.
“He certainly has your grandfather’s temper,” I said once we were outside. “It’s hard to believe he’s younger than you.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s so…” I was going to say angry, but another word came out instead. “Bitter.”
“What do you expect? He doesn’t have a heart.”
True. I touched mine, which ached with homesickness, and swallowed. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for Elang. “Do you think he’ll save Gen?”
“He’ll do his best. He has to.”
“Because of Lady Nahma’s token.” I understood.
“Few things are more valuable than a favor in Ai’long,” replied Seryu. “I’ll never know how she got Elang’s, but now she has one of mine.”
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“It’s fine. She was kind to you. For that, I won’t mind being in her debt—too much.”
I managed a smile at Seryu. We were still friends.
Seryu didn’t smile back, but he didn’t frown, either. Neither of us had discussed how abruptly the rites had ended, how we’d almost been forced to marry each other. It made for a tense air of awkwardness between us, one Seryu knew just how to break.
“You must be starving,” he said. “Come, let’s get you something to eat.”
* * *
The glowing orbs that drifted along the ceilings were starting to remind me of onions, and the gilded triangles etched on the walls began to look like carrots. I kept sniffing for food, the sharp emptiness in my belly sorely dejected, when Seryu ushered me into what looked like Elang’s study.
There were books everywhere, stacked high atop an oblong slab of marble that served as a table. Paintings too slathered the walls, each encased in a protective bubble that my mischievous fingers would have itched to try popping were I not so hungry. In the corner, a blue fire blazed over a sandy hearth—but no pot brewed over the flames.
“I thought you were taking me to the kitchen,” I said.
“There is no kitchen in a dragon’s castle.”
“Don’t you all have to eat?”
In response, Seryu swept the table clear of its books and scrolls. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he clapped.
A small feast appeared: a steaming clay pot of crisped rice with cabbage and mushrooms, a pot of fish stew with carrots and glass noodles, and a bowl of fruits.
Salivating, I planted myself in front of the stew and started shoveling bites into my mouth, eating so desperately and quickly that stray grains of rice flew at Kiki. The stew was a comfort, reminding me of my own fish soup—a special dish I’d make for my brothers, Takkan, and myself when we weren’t feeling our best.
A few courses in, I stopped. “Seryu, you aren’t eating.”
“I’m spectating for now.” A small grin. “The Shiori I knew would consider this only the first round.”
I laughed. I’d forgotten how much I missed him, our easy banter, our mutual love for food. I started at my plate again.
“Not so fast, Princess.” A teapot had materialized on the table, and Seryu poured its contents into a cup. “Here, drink some tea. It helps with indigestion.”
He poured another cup for himself and took a sip.
“Dragons get indigestion?” I asked.
“No, but Elang hoards the best brews in Ai’long. He’s the only one who travels back and forth from land to sea often enough to keep up with what you mortals are drinking.”
“You travel too.”
“Not as often as him.” Seryu drank deeply from his cup. “It isn’t encouraged to visit the mortal realm. But I was bored—and curious about your world, thanks to him. All Elang did was complain about you humans, but…I liked the food he brought back.”
That I agreed with heartily. “You’re friends.”
“We were. Before his father died and he became High Lord of the Westerly Seas.” A pause. “Then Elang stopped seeing anyone, even me.”
“Because your mother sent assassins after him?”
“That has a little to do with it.”
I set down my spoon. “Why does she want him dead?”
Seryu took a long moment to respond, making me think he was condensing a lengthy story into a short one. At last he said, “His title is a coveted one.”
“But your mother already has her own title.”
“Dragons like my mother and grandfather see Elang’s very existence as a threat. All children born to companions are either dragon—or not. There are no half dragons except for Elang and the Wraith. They’re…aberrations.”
“That’s why they won’t accept him,” I murmured. “But when he finds his pearl, he can become a full dragon.”
“If he finds it,” countered Seryu. “Until then he’s trapped between two worlds. Half human, half dragon. No matter where he goes, he won’t fully belong.”
“I’ll get a taste of that soon,” I said, watching the tea leaves in my cup sink. “When I return to Kiata, everyone will know I have magic. It’ll be hard for things to go back to the way they were.”
“My offer still stands, you know,” said Seryu seriously. “You could stay with me.”
I shifted uneasily, clutching my teacup. “Seryu…”
“If only you could see how uncomfortable you look. I was joking.” He let out a breath through his nose, and his seriousness fled. “There’s only so much rejection a dragon can take. You’re lucky our hearts are stronger than human ones.”
He took a long sip, then smirked. “Besides, we’d get bored of each other before long. And eternity would feel even longer with someone as troublesome as you, Shiori.”
I laughed. As simple as that, we were friends again.
“Now finish your tea,” he said, lifting my cup to my lips. “It’s expensive.”
While I drank, Seryu cranked his head up, ear perking. It was the only notice he gave before Elang himself appeared.
The half dragon looked tired. Gold-rimmed spectacles sat unevenly on his nose, a touch that made him appear vastly more human. But when he caught me staring, he tore them off and his eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t say you were welcome to my tea,” he groused.
“It’s the finest in Ai’long,” Seryu replied, raising his cup in appreciation. “Where else would we find tea fresh off the Spice Road?”