Instead I went to the open arch on the far side of the room. I peeked. The hall looked like all other halls in the Kyer, with Lights and doors evenly spaced. The closest door had a golden sign with a ball dangling from it. I crept closer.
Seneschal, the sign said. Somehow fixed to the wall underneath, a note read in neat, even handwriting: Shake for Assistance.
“Shake the ball?” I murmured and glanced down the hallway. No one. The dangling ball was made of glass, and dark green sparkles swirled inside. Magic? Orrik had never mentioned dark green magic.
I knocked first. No answer. I reached for the globe. Hesitated. My insides surged with a panicky feeling that I was beginning to notice whenever I encountered, well, anyone.
“Do you need help?”
I jumped at the sharp, no-nonsense voice. An elderly woman emerged from a blur in the hallway. Soft wrinkles covered her face instead of stiff folds. Her white hair a tight bun and not a braid. Stranger still was the straightness of her back. I realized that must be how someone would stand when they hadn’t bent over a field for decades…
I was staring. “Um. I have a message. For the Seneschal.”
“Just missed him. He went to dinner.”
“Which dining hall?” I asked, my heart sinking. Delivering a message, nerve-wracking enough, but in front of other nobles? Not to mention I’d only memorized one of the three dining hall locations.
“Shamino’s an odd one. He cooks for himself. Hand me that.” The woman reached for my message and pulled a slim pencil from her bun. “Here’s his address.”
Great. I wouldn’t be interrupting him during a meal with others, I’d be disturbing his personal time at home. I glanced at the new address—at least he lived nearby—and within minutes I stood outside another door.
Smile and hand over the envelope. Leave. It’s that simple. I pulled the cord that rang the bell inside the Seneschal’s rooms.
The most handsome man alive opened the door.
He stood a hand’s-breadth taller than I, with dark, tousled auburn hair that curled slightly. Muscles pulled at his shirt, and as he leaned against the doorway his eyes met mine. I may have forgotten how to breathe. Dark green, the color of deep forests and fantastic. Laugh lines ghosted the corners, but as I gaped, his eyes narrowed.
“Can I help you?” Even annoyed, his voice both warmed me and sent a shiver down my spine.
A heartbeat more, and consciousness slammed into me. Stop staring as if you were a besotted cow!
“Oh, I… have a message.” I fumbled, dropped the envelope, scooped it up. “I must have the wrong door, I’m so sorry to bother you. I—”
He grabbed my arm before I formed a thought clear enough to whisk me away. Warmth jolted through me again, and when I didn’t release the envelope, he pried it from my fingers.
“You have the right door.”
“You… you’re the Seneschal?” I blurted. He couldn’t be more than twenty. He was so, so…
There is no word to describe him.
The annoyance returned. “You’re a trainee, aren’t you? I wish everyone outside the Kyer would hear that Ramiel retired. Yes, I’m the Seneschal, yes, I’m nineteen, and yes, the dragons seem quite happy with their choice.”
He ripped open the envelope and began to read.
I wanted the floor to swallow me. Or my Gift to turn me to ash. Or a dragon to gobble me up. “I’m sorry, I—I was just surprised, you’re not much older than me and…”
Stop talking, Adara, STOP TALKING.
The paper fluttered as he sighed. “Long day. I shouldn’t snap.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Come inside? I need to send a reply.”
Go into a noble’s apartment? A boy’s apartment…
“I do mean it. I am sorry for snapping. Merram’s always telling me I’m too quick to anger.” Shamino gave me the slightest of smiles.
The giddy feeling returned. “I’ve had a long day, too.”
Shamino broke into a real smile and I nearly melted into the floor. He rolled his eyes as he turned away.
I tiptoed after him, reminding myself that Shamino didn’t need drool on his furniture. He was just a man. A gorgeous man.
Shamino gestured to the sofa on his way to his desk. I perched on the edge and tried to distract myself by looking at everything that wasn’t him.
In many ways, Shamino’s room resembled the foyer in the Dragon Quarters. He’d decorated it with the same dark greens. Yet, Shamino’s rooms felt… cozy. Maybe it was the smell of fresh bread baking in the kitchen, or the dents in the fabric of the chairs that meant people often sat in them. The tapestries weren’t bold and majestic, either; the dragons in them seemed amused.
Yet, something felt off. I fiddled with the seam of the sofa’s cushion as I tried to figure it out. Meanwhile, Shamino adjusted a candle and scribbled at the desk.
Candles. He didn’t use Lights. That’s why the room felt cozy to me.
“Where are you from?” Shamino asked as he folded his letter.
Great. My favorite topic. “Threepines.”
“Oh? You should adjust easier than most. Half the folk from Dragonsridge go home the first month. Not enough servants, and the commoners at the Kyer speak their minds.” He dribbled wax on the paper. “Not to mention, we expect Dragon Mages to work.”
I decided to respond with silence. Adara of Threepines knew very little of Dragonsridge, the capitol.
Shamino examined the seal and mumbled something else, but I didn’t catch what because a faint, airy sound had caught my attention. Not wind, not in a mountain. Something more regular, more…
Breathing? Breathing from something large.
Tense alertness shot through my body. There’s one more thing wrong with Shamino’s room. It has too many doors.
Very slowly, I turned my head. There, its face filling the entire doorway, a dark green dragon blinked at me.
Chapter Five
“Done,” Shamino said as he stood with the sealed envelope. “If you
