“Receiving space?”
“A chamber where you would meet with guests. It has benches, chairs…”
“We call that a living room or parlor.”
“The food replicator is here.” She waved open a room. A floor-to-ceiling food dispenser took up most of the closet-sized area. “I’m told Princess Helena will have human-style meals sent over to you, but, if you get hungry, the replicator is at your disposal.”
“Have you, uh, worked as a donatta long?” Was it a real occupation? Or had she been tagged by T’mar to babysit him?
“Not long. About two hundred years—since V’ton and I were mated.”
Only. He’d forgotten how long dragons lived.
“My mate is one of Prince T’mar’s guards, and through him I secured a position as donatta for His Highness’s guests.”
“Do you have children?”
She bared a mouthful of razor-like teeth. “Seven so far. The youngest is only twenty-five years, but he has mastered the ability to throw fireballs,” she said proudly.
Fireballs? “He must be advanced for his age,” he offered politely.
Another proud, toothy smile. “Very. He takes after his sire.” She beckoned. “Now, don’t get me started talking about the dragonlings! Come this way. I have a surprise. I’m told it is something humans appreciate.”
She led him across the residence and pointed to another door. “Go inside.”
“What is it?”
“See for yourself.” She swished her tail.
“You’re not coming in?”
Her snout wrinkled. “I’ll wait here.”
He glanced at her before approaching the portal. The door peeled away to reveal crystal clear water sparkling in a three-lane lap pool running the length of the marble chamber. Smooth polished sapphires tiled the perimeter and glittered on the bottom.
Helena had said there was a pool. He knelt and dipped his hand in the water. T’mar had gone to a lot of trouble to accommodate the tastes and habits of potential human guests and please his mate. He didn’t smell chlorine or other chemicals and surmised the water was cleaned through some advanced technology—like all things Draconian. He glanced at J’leen hovering almost apprehensively in the hall. “You’re not coming in?”
“No, no.” She backed away, shaking her head, and he caught a strange odor.
Fear? He tried to name the oddly sweet smell. “You’re not afraid of water, are you?”
Her neck frill flared, and she jerked her tail. “I am a dragoness. I fear nothing.”
But she obviously was. They all probably were. Fire. Water. Not a good mix. No wonder there weren’t any real showers or fountains—none that spewed water anyway.
“My apologies. Of course, you’re not,” he lied to maintain a rapport with the sole friendly dragon he’d encountered. He stood and returned to the corridor. “Thank you.” He would have found the pool on his own, but it was thoughtful of her to show it to him, given her fear. She took her responsibilities as donatta seriously.
Their conversation resumed, albeit a little strained, but awkwardness soon evaporated as she filled him in on other matters. She demonstrated how to use the comm centers through which he could contact her and/or send a message to Helena’s donatta.
Some things are the same everywhere. He choked off a wry laugh. To reach any government leader or politician on Earth, including First Daughter Helena, one had had to go through an intermediary often referred to as “the dragon at the gate.” Same situation now, except the assistants were real dragons.
Lastly, J’leen pointed to a richly decorated passage leading away from his suite of rooms. “That is how you get to the palace proper.”
“Am I allowed to go there? Is it safe?” Helena had said he’d be free to roam, but J’leen’s warnings of the resentments still rang in his ears.
“Yes. No one within the palace will accost you, but remember, many areas will be open air, so be sure to have your inhaler. If you attempt to venture into forbidden areas, you’ll be stopped.”
“Got it.” Casually he asked, “How far are we from the Temple of the Eternal Fyre?” He would hold to his promise; he was just curious.
She looked surprised. “You wish to pay homage to the sacred flame?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Just wondered.”
“If you wish to go there, I will take you. It’s about the same distance from the landing pad as to here, but it’s in the other direction.”
Far away, then.
J’leen left, and, after peeking at the pool again, he went in search of a bedroom. His duffel had been placed in the largest one, so he opted to remain there. He unpacked his bag to check if anything had been taken or touched—it hadn’t—and placed his clothing in a massive armoire and his toiletries in the attached bathing chamber.
He looked for a secure but accessible hiding spot for his weapons but discovered no nooks, no crannies, vents, or ducts. He yanked the covers off the massive bed, hefted up the sleeping pad, and slit the underside with his knife—only to have the cut sew itself together. He tried again, slicing longer and deeper, and the bed repaired itself again.
J’leen had said he’d be safe here, but there was no telling who had access to this wing. Someone had delivered his duffel. There had to be palace staff. Did guards patrol the halls? Henry assumed people couldn’t waltz in from the outside, but he didn’t have confirmation. J’leen had emphasized the human area had been designed to keep out shifted dragons, so did that mean demiformas were allowed in?
A knife and blaster had been confiscated on his original trip to Elementa; he couldn’t risk losing more weapons as he had no way of replacing them.
With no good hiding places, he settled for tucking a blaster in a pair of boots, setting a knife atop the wardrobe, and slipping another beneath the mattress. If somebody searched his room, those would be the
