A few days later, Mistress Seraphinite sent Agadart to the admiral’s lair again, as there had been some kind of conflict between two of the more boisterous apprentice maids that she would have to resolve herself and thus could not attend him personally. Agadart knew the girls, of course, and had seen them butting heads before so steeled herself to expect that one or the other or both would be kicked out of the Corps for their childishness. She was sympathetic to the fact that dragons did not want to be surrounded by immature maids, but she was also eager to not have to play witness to the games herself. Compared to the literally life-or-death disputes she went through at court, it all seemed so silly.
She veered off from the course she had originally been assigned in order to trudge up to the admiral’s lair. This time, though, she stalled at the entryway, staring blankly at the admiral. He was curled up with his head resting on one wing as a very sharp-dressed gentleman worried at one of the dragon’s knuckle claws. It was the admiral’s guardian, and Agadart remembered his beauty from the brief time she had seen him long before on the train station in Ransewellen.
He looked up, his expression neutrally polite but his eyes sharp as the talon he was holding. “Who are you?”
“Maid Aegirine, sir. Here to, ah, straighten up?” She coughed, trying not to stare at the admiral. “To clean the drinking trough, mostly.”
“I thought that was the job of that terrifying woman? Seraphinite?” He looked at the dragon, who gave a very small shrug — small for his stature, anyway. “Such as it is, I don’t care.” The admiral huffed out a laugh in response to the careless reply.
“I can return later, sir, if—”
“I’m Guardian Roki.” His manner was as brusque as his clothes were fine. Agadart remembered him looking dapper at the train station, but he was far more alluring in person. The stark black suit and the silky pink shirt contrasted beautifully against the darker tone of his skin, which was tan with a deep umber undertone. He looked out of place but comfortable, still clasping the giant knuckle claw as if he and the admiral were simply holding hands. Which, Agadart realized, they were.
“Yes sir.” She bowed.
“Do you know him?” he asked, pointing at the admiral, who finally lifted his head up in the air, as if to get a better view of the both of them.
“We only briefly met last week.” Agadart bowed again just to be safe and went to the utility cabinet. The admiral and his guardian ignored her as she set up to clean the trough. While it was draining, she took a rag and went around dusting off the small amount of human-sized furniture. There was a bed recessed into the wall, literally a small cave, that she had not even noticed the day before. The drapes that hid it from view were now tied back, though, and she saw that the bed was adorned with a multiplicity of overly stuffed pillows and luxurious, heavy blankets. She steered clear of it and returned to the trough once it was empty.
She knew they were watching her but she did not want to encourage interaction. One of the rules of the Dragon Maids Corps was to be discreet to the point of invisible…not unlike the maids that used to serve Agadart herself back home, or when she was married. Servants were not meant to stand out, which was directly opposite of what her mother had trained into her as the daughter of a lord of the realm: stand out, stand strong, stand proud. Unlike her mother, Agadart was no great beauty by Kaaltendt standards, but in the right dresses and with the right attitude her introduction to society had not shamed the family name at least. In her innocent youth she had enjoyed the attention.
Her life had turned to the point where being invisible almost felt like a gift rather than a punishment. Sometimes she wondered if Queen Theaedra meant it that way, as a mercy given to Agadart to disappear for long enough that most people would not care about the scandal anymore by the time she returned to society. It was possible. The dragon queen’s thoughts on any given matter were inscrutable.
Scrubbing kept her mind busy. The trough was clearly cleaned every day as befitting the admiral’s station so it was hardly dirty by any stretch, but it did not matter. She was there to clean, so clean she did.
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Nonetheless, it was hard not to overhear the discussion of the admiral and his guardian-consort. Or rather, his guardian talking at the admiral.
“I suppose I should be grateful this doctor is coming to us. I hardly dare trust the butchers that Kaaltendt calls physicians.”
There was a heavy sigh from the admiral, strong enough to gust against Agadart’s back. She had to hold back a laugh at the idea of a dragon sighing with such obvious resignation.
“No no, I understand. They do the best they can with such tragically limited resources.” There was a clinking of glass as he talked. Agadart assumed he was fixing himself a drink from the small bar set against the wall near the bed cave. “But I’ve heard of Dr. Worthan. His published work on wing rip physiotherapy is well known in Akanata. Hurricanes tend to throw a lot of debris around, you know.”
The draconic huff in reply was, even to Agadart’s untrained ears, a sound of agreement.
“Right. Oh no, don’t look at me like that. It’s not like anyone wants to fly through a hurricane. Mother sends out search-and-rescue teams if we know there are boats still at sea.”
“Oh, Father has done the same when we experience a rash of tornadoes,” Agadart said without thinking, then froze.
There was dead silence behind her.
“Aren’t you a Kaaltendt native?” The question was spoken from right behind her, and she jumped in surprised. She had not heard Guardian Roki move.
“I…I am a dragon maid, sir.” She spun around and bowed low. “I have no home but the aerie and no name of my own.” She repeated the first lines of the Dragon Maids Corps oath without looking up.
“That’s a lie,” the guardian said, but he sounded amused, not angry. “Rise,” he added. She saw him flap a hand at her, motioning her to follow his command. She did, but kept her eyes focused on his shoes. “You have some prior experience with dragons, despite being a Kaaltendt native. That’s interesting.” He peered at her so intently that she could feel his gaze.
“No. I have had very little interactions with dragons. I was simply stating the orders my…my father gave after natural disasters.”
“Interesting,” he said. His gaze was intense and she felt like something deep in her rib cage was melting.
There was another huff from the admiral, although Agadart had no idea what it meant.
“Fine, fine, I’ll quit pestering her.” Guardian Roki took a sip from his tumbler. “No, wait, I do want one honest answer from you. Where are those tornadoes you talk about?”
Agadart thought for a moment about how she needed to phrase it before answering. “As all Kaaltendt knows, the principality of Battenruck experiences a rash of tornadoes every spring. It can affect shipping on the Wywaar, so the queen often sends out two dragons from the capital to assist the local lords.”
“Two dragons?” Guardian Mani exclaimed loudly. “How are two dragons supposed to help in a natural disaster? Dearest, are you listening to this? Outrageous. Mother sends out two dozen for every storm—”
Another heavy sigh stopped the guardian in his rant. He grimaced, then saluted Agadart with his drink before sharply turning on his heel to walk away from her.
She took in a deep breath as she picked up the scrubber brush and quickly set about finishing the job. Talking about her past was a direct violation of her apprenticeship oath, and the admiral was within his rights to have her kicked out of service that very day. While neither he nor his guardian seemed too upset, Agadart did not want to push her luck.
As she went to put the cleaning supplies back into the little hidden cabinet, she glanced over at them only to lock eyes with the admiral. His eyes as a dragon were like those of a cat, the pupil a vertical slash of darkness against a bright, faceted golden iris that glowed despite the low light of the candlelit lair. She froze, staring back at him.
She knew that dragons were like most large predators and stared down their prey, often as a form of hypnosis before attacking. Yet, she did not feel threatened, instead overcome by an irresistible tug of curiosity. She caught herself stepping toward the admiral when Guardian Roki’s voice broke the trance.
“Interesting,” he said, his voice and his eyes dark and intensely unsettling as he stared at her.
She collected herself quickly and bowed at the admiral first, then his companion. “My work here is done for the day. I shall take my leave. Good afternoon, Your Grace, Guardian Roki.” She swiftly spun away and speed walked out of the lair into the welcome anonymity of the warrens. She did not breathe freely again until she was two levels down and standing in an empty, unused lair.
She had no idea what had just happened.