Mani had followed him quietly to their rooms. The majority of their belongings had already been packed into trunks by staff and hauled down to the docks to be loaded onto the ship they would be sailing to Watt. That left personal belongings and a few changes of clothes for them to sort out personally. There was one open trunk in the middle of their bedroom, and several empty satchels ready to be filled.

Mani brushed by him and sat on the bed, leaning forward with his hands braced on either side of him. “Is this what jealousy looks like on you?”

“Yes.” Rodgardae turned his back to his mate and opened a drawer to start placing his jewelry into a small carrier. “No. I—.”

“It was a compromising position, after all,” Mani said, staring at him, his inflection flat.

It had been a very compromising position, but the feelings Rodgardae had felt then were not anger or fear, and the jealousy he experienced was not what Mani clearly assumed.

“Go on, yell at me then. Everyone’s temper is short and hot, I understand.” His voice remained emotionless.

“You started without me,” Rodgardae snapped, then froze when he realized what he had said.

“I…what?” Mani stood up. “Wait. Hold on. You were mad because I didn’t wait for you to seduce Maid Aegirine?” He sounded torn between being delighted and being furious. “Are you teasing me?”

Rodgardae snorted. “When have I ever?”

Mani came up to stand behind him, not quite close enough to touch, but Rodgardae felt his warm presence. “Ro, my beloved. Does Maid Aegirine pique your interest?”

“We have agreed that she is quite beautiful.” Ro did not move, frozen with one of his favorite broaches in his hand.

“We have.” Mani sounded amused. “Yet, you’ve never mentioned an interest in bringing her to our bed, or building a triamond—”

Rodgardae squawked at that, as undignified as it was. “Who said anything about a triamond? We’ve never—”

“That’s right,” Mani interrupted. “We’ve never. Even when we were propositioned at the Kaaltendt court, we’ve turned them down. I assumed because you had no such proclivities.”

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“I had no such proclivities with them,” Rodgardae clarified.

“Oh.” Mani ran one finger down Rodgardae’s spine, from his neck to his tailbone. His nerves lit up.

“Mani,” he started to say something, but the thoughts flew away.

“It’s not that you oppose the idea, you are just picky.” He placed hands on Rodgardae’s hips.

“I thought you knew that.”

“That you’re picky? Yes, I know that well. But we’ve never talked about triamonds, for or against. I assumed with how you flippantly turned down some of the greatest beauties of Kaaltendt, it was not to your tastes.”

“I was not flippant,” Rodgardae argued, because he was proud of his formal etiquette and manners, damnit.

“That is what you want to argue about?” Mani shoved him to spin him around so they were facing each other. Mani brushed his lips over his, whispering. “You were mad that I had a hand on her, and you didn’t?”

Rodgardae’s words fled, leaving him with little more than draconic grumblings which, in his walking form, sounded more like a hungry kit than a grown dragon.

“Or mad that you had not been invited to watch?” Mani laughed before kissing him properly. Rodgardae dropped the broach he still had in his hand and wrapped his arms around his mate. They kissed for a while, heated but not going anywhere for the moment, until Mani pulled away to study his face. “Would you? If she were interested?”

“I would, if the both of you were interested,” Ro said, breathlessly.

“I am very interested, I think you know that. I find her enchanting in ways most Kaaltendt humans are not.”

Rodgardae rolled his eyes. “You like her air of mystery.”

“I do! But also, hmm…” He paused for a moment. “What do you like about her?”

Rodgardae stopped to think for a moment. She was gorgeous, but not the greatest beauty he had ever seen. By all reports she was a competent dragon maid, and Milles was pleased with how quickly she was learning about draconic medicine. There was something to her that made his heart rate pick up though, something about her that was clever. As a dragon he would say that her blood sang to him, but humans rarely liked that kind of metaphor. Then again, his mate was Lord Mani Roki, guardian and Matrica, son of Akanata.

“Her blood sings to me,” he said softly, looking down into Mani’s brilliant green eyes.

“Oh,” Mani said, his expression going soft with wonder.

“Mn,” Rodgardae hummed in agreement.

Mani shuffled even closer. “I can work with that.”

Rodgardae figured the packing could wait.