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13. Fire in her Bones

Agadart did not rest well, despite the proper bed and the small chamber that was her first private moment in months. It was neither wide nor long but it held a bed-bench with a thick mattress, a comfortable chair, a small table, and a wardrobe to hold her meager belongings. Still, sleeping inside the aerie was strange, and she tossed and turned with thoughts of the fine duke and flying dragons filling her mind instead of sleep.

The bells of the fort woke her just after dawn. She got up and dressed, then realized that her most crucial task was to find the closest toilet. It was the start of a frustrating morning trying to orient herself to a part of the fort she had never been privy to, among people who did not know her and, to her surprise, did not know why she was there.

The few ensigns she saw were running errands and had no time to hold the hand of a lost dragon maid, and told her so in no uncertain terms. Agadart ended up in the laundry pits twice, the front gate once, and never any place that looked like it might hold a dragon’s physician. She was standing completely still in a central hallway, figuring that at some point someone she recognized would walk by, when someone recognized her instead.

“Maid Aegirine?”

Agadart spun around to find herself face-to-face with the admiral’s guardian. Up close he was even more handsome, his clothes refined and elegant over a sturdy, muscular frame. He had a trim waist and broad shoulders and dark green eyes, none of which was lost on Agadart. She was a noblewoman who had played a deadly game in the capital for years, though, and caught herself before she started gawping like a young girl.

“Yes sir.”

They stood in the hallway taking each other’s measure, although why was a mystery to Agadart. The consort was leagues above her in station, and so had no cause to stop to talk to a dragon maid.

He frowned a little at her. “Are you not assigned to Dr. Worthan?” he asked, his soft accent rolling the words together into a languid drawl, but his eyes glittering with intensity. Curiosity or dislike, she could not tell.

“I am. Do you need my assistance with something, my lord?” she asked politely. It was a formal request more suited to the queen’s court than an old, drafty fort at the tip-end of nowhere, and while it perhaps gave away more of her past than she wanted, it also put him on the spot for acknowledging her properly or breaking quickly away.

He tipped his head up, considering her for a moment. “I often find handsome ladies looking covetously at His Grace. I wish to know your intentions.”

His attractiveness was swept out from Agadart’s mind in a wash of rage. “Perhaps you might ask yourself why you should be concerned, that his fidelity is so fickle that every handsome face claims it?”

Guardian Roki jerked backwards as if slapped. “You dare suggest?”

“No, apparently you do.”

His jaw worked silently for a moment before he straightened up with a haughty look. “You’ve got a brash tongue, for a dragon maid.”

“And you a loose one for a consort.” She expected the rebuke to send him howling in rage for the duke to have Agadart thrown out of the fort immediately, but instead he just twitched a little. After a moment, one eyebrow rose and he cocked his head, smiling.

“You do have fire in your bones.”

She frowned at him. “Were you simply trying to rile me?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving her, his expression soft and curious. “Never such a thing, mika.”

It was an odd phrase, and while “mika” wasn’t her name it clearly wasn’t an insult either, so Agadart let it pass. “Then let us be at peace.” She paused, debating her next question before giving in to the inevitable. “Do you have any idea where Dr. Worthan is?”

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He shrugged slowly, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. The cut of his suit was sharp and looked faintly like it came from the tailor shops of the capital, but the material was heavy and shiny and very nearly black purple over silks of deep burgundy. Despite the dark hue of his clothes, the consort was one of the most colorful men she had ever met. He looked her directly in the eyes, his expression slightly mirthful. “No, but I suspect he is with the duke. Shall I take you to them?”

“If you would be so kind.” She nodded, and prepared to follow. He turned and then stopped, holding out his arm in a gentlemanly way. Agadart was stuck taking it as a lady or spurning his manners like a gutter rat, so she linked her arm in his.

“So, Maid Aegirine, I suppose I should introduce myself formally. I am Mani Roki, Guardian to Duke Raudolf of Kaaltendt, Duke Julvua of Watt, Admiral Rodgardae Leonteinparre.”

“A heavy weight of titles you bear, my lord.”

Mani laughed, a warm and soothing sound that rang down the dark-stoned halls. “None of them are mine, they are all just tacked on to my name by association.” He looked at her slyly out of the corner of his eye. “You have none to bear yourself?”

“I cast off such trappings when I joined the Dragon Maids Corps.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Willingly?”

She grit her teeth as discreetly as she could. “Yes.”

“Was that a rude question?” He turned them down a smaller hall to an outside corridor with large windows.

“Some would say yes, but I am not offended.”

He hummed again. They walked in silence for a while, twisting their way through the interior of the aerie tower of the fort, before he spoke again. “At the risk of offending you again, I observe that you are a well-born Kaaltendt lady, of manners.”

It wasn’t a question, so Agadart did not bother to answer. He nodded for both of them before continuing. “I have been His Grace’s guardian and consort for five years. He could have chosen better, I think, and many of the clans—excuse me, noble families of Kaaltendt agree.” He sighed.

“News of Duke Raudolf’s love match filled the society pages. Your union caused great glee for many,” Agadart said neutrally. That much at least was true, even if a good portion of the glee was from the scandal of it all.

“Yes, it was amusing to them. But the duke came here to strengthen ties with Kaaltendt, not Akanata.”

“I believe he has done that admirably.”

He walked up to a utilitarian door and rapped on it. “Perhaps. But we should continue this discussion at another time.”

Before Agadart could open her mouth to reply, the door swung open and one of the admiral’s lieutenants ushered them in. “Guardian Roki! It is always a pleasure to see you. Oh, and Maid Aegirine.” The man bowed, and Agadart racked her brain for his damn name as she bowed in return.

“Captain Wildt, thank you. We are in search of Dr. Worthan.” Guardian Roki stepped away, motioning at Agadart.

“Here!” The doctor’s voice rose above the murmurs of people talking. Agadart noticed only then that the room was full of people standing around a large table covered in maps. It did not take any sixth sense for Agadart to know that she was face-to-face with the entire flight of Endestern’s dragons, as they were all decorated with the garish, red sash that marked their breed. Agadart had by that point met them all, but never in their walking forms. They all smelled the air discreetly, and Agadart assumed they were trying to place her.

“Admiral, Doctor, dragons.” She bowed again. “Maid Aegirine here, reporting for duty, Doctor.”

Most of the dragons recognized her name and odor, except for one woman, a tall raven haired beauty who did not look far out of her teens, if that. But she wore the uniform of the Dragon Corps, and she looked at Agadart with suspicion. Agadart wondered if she was new.

The admiral stepped forward and Agadart bowed even lower. “Lord Raudolf.”

“Here I prefer the military rank, Maid Aegirine. At least that one I’ve earned,” he said with a humble smile, giving her a slight bow. The other dragons shifted restlessly but were quiet. “Dr. Worthan, you are excused, if you choose, to familiarize your new assistant with her position.”

Dr. Worthan sighed heavily. “All the better to get out of this war room full of antsy dragons. Back! Move!” The doctor shoved at a couple of them to push his way through. Startled at the manhandling, they skittered to the walls.

Admiral Leonteinparre laughed. “Do not abuse the Kaaltendt dragons, dear Doctor. They are not used to such handsy physicians.”

“They’ll appreciate it when war comes,” Dr. Worthan mumbled as he stomped out.

With a quick bow to the room Agadart fled after him. For an older, short man, he waddled pretty quickly down the halls.

It was just the start of Agadart’s desperate run to keep up with the doctor.