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Bram was quick to nod. “Yes, we’ve been briefed on your requests. Two riders will be at his side at all times to act as guards while within the great city. We have an entire legion prepared to escort him through the Deadwoods as well.”
Meira backed away from the fireplace, practically stumbling forward as the vise of magic gripped her and nearly stripped her of free will. She fought the curse as it sunk its claws into her mind screaming at his nearness. When Vigor shot her a glance at her abrupt movement, she feigned interest in the books upon his shelves. Letters swam before her vision, never making comprehendible words.
“Very good, very good.” Vigor nodded.
Behind him, the steady sound of footfalls grew louder until a man with short golden hair appeared. His smile was a stark contrast to the deep frown his father wore. There was a spark of excitement in the heir's eyes as he quickly assessed the room and clapped a hand on his father’s back. He started with long strides toward Bram holding his hand out.
“I’m assuming you’re my escort to Croughton. My name is Valen Brendal. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Bram looked down somewhat reluctantly but took Valen’s hand in a firm shake. “Bram Dearson. This is Meira and Lowell.” He motioned to them, though neither Meira nor Lowell had shifted from where they stood at a distance.
“Please take a seat. I’ve already called for tea and sandwiches to be brought in and you all can warm up before we head out. I’m sure the rest is much needed. You flew here, correct?”
Bram dipped his chin in answer. Then Valen was making his way toward Meira, forcing her to stop staring so intently at the spines of novels she wasn’t actually reading. Valen was practically a foot taller than his father and of medium build, but the way he walked toward her was feline, the stalking steps of a predator. He stopped a foot in front of her and held out his hand. “I take it you’re Meira.”
All she could do was stare at his palm. A fresh trickle of perspiration ran down her spine. If she moved she didn’t trust herself not to frantically dart from the room and follow the lure of the curse. Eventually, Valen let his fingers curl into a gentle fist and dropped his hand. His smile remained though his shoulders tensed. Those ocean-filled eyes ran over her form clad in the leathers of her riding gear. It wasn’t an appreciating glance but merely an observation as if he was keeping stock of her curves and evaluating her for a threat.
“I didn’t realize you had women in your employ,” Valen continued with a flash of his all too white teeth at Bram.
Scale riders were not a job out for hire. The notion of it being some sort of employer was befuddling to hear. Meira assumed it was common knowledge that the riders had been born from a group of rebels during the war that had won Emperor Grandith Augustine his seat on the throne. They’d fought in his favor at the time, but it hadn’t been a secret that it was only because they’d shared a common enemy. From there, the tradition of taming and riding Bold Wings had mostly been passed down through family lines.
“There are many women amongst our ranks,” Bram answered when Meira stared at Valen blankly. He motioned Lowell forward and the men lowered onto the tufted couch. Lowell lounged back into the seat, crossing his legs at his ankles, seemingly enjoying the luxury he’d been so quick to put down.
“Are they all as friendly as Meira?” Valen laughed, keeping his tone light. He even passed her a smirk over his shoulder on his way to shake Lowell’s hand.
A rider didn’t need to be friendly. Though she never heard anyone complain if one of her male counterparts appeared rude or outright aggressive and cruel, she’d been told to smile or be pleasant on more than one occasion and the slight jab only made her teeth grate together. The comment only came from citizens of the Empire, never other riders. She wondered at their lives and if all their women were berated until they walked around with false grins and insincere kindness.
“They’re all as deadly as Meira.” Lowell took Valen’s hand but dropped it just as quickly.
“That’s exactly what I like to hear,” Vigor chimed in, watching them all with a considerable amount of disapproval belying the encouraging statement.
Running a hand through his blond hair, Valen finally settled into a high-back chair beside the couch. He stayed perched on the end of the seat, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees, and watching the riders as if they were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
A bit of red marred his shirt sleeve, something Bram must have noticed too because he pointed toward the spot. “Are you bleeding?”
Valen’s grin faltered then. He glanced down at his sleeve and shook his head. “We had a guest with an injury. He must have managed to bleed on me while I brought him back to the physician. A shame considering this is one of my favorite shirts.”
Him.
It had to be.
Her heart was thudding in her throat making it harder for each breath to reach her lungs. Sweat coated her palms, slicking the inside of her gloves.
“You have a physician staying here?” Meira tried her best to sound curious and leach every ounce of hope out of her tone.
“We do.” Valen offered yet another smile in her direction.
The words, take me to them, sat on the edge of her tongue, but there wasn't any reason to and it would only cause Bram more worry and frustration over their already strained relationship. So instead, she reverted to the only thing she could think of that would allow her time to step away and look for her stranger.
“Do you also have a bathroom?”
Bram shot her a look of annoyance. She refused to look at him, knew if she did he might see something in her that she couldn’t, wouldn’t show.
Valen stood from his seat. “Of course, you’ve had a long journey. Anyone who needs to use the facilities is welcome to.” He shifted easily around the room and pointed into the foyer. “Just beyond the stairs is a hallway, it’s the second door on your right.”
Sconces were lit in the hall, giving her a dim understanding of exactly where she was heading. She dipped her head, finally meeting his blue stare. Valen’s expression brightened at the small act of thanks before he turned back to the sitting area where Bram and Lowell watched. She didn’t stay long enough to read into their expressions before she hurried to the hall. It wasn’t long before her absence would cause questions and concerns. Then, if someone came looking for her and she wasn’t where she ought to be, she’d be in a world of trouble with Bram, potentially stripped from the mission.
The moment she rounded the corner, she eased herself against the wall and listened. No eager footsteps came after her. No one cared. She exhaled slowly, letting her attention drift down the hall. Portraits of men as large as the warlord peered back at her, but other than their painted forms there was no one else for as far as she could see. Which, to her surprise, was quite a way. Meira knew the home was large, that much had been clear the moment they arrived, but here in the maze of interconnected halls and rooms, it felt as though it went on forever.
