The castle gardens were impressively green, lush, fragrant, and flower-filled, especially given that less than a week had passed since the dragon attack. The last dragon attack, Trip hoped.

The finishing touches for the weapons platform were still in progress, but it hovered in the sky over the city around the clock, at least for the time being. There had been discussion as to whether a proper landing and storage area should be built for it, but Trip had assured his commanders and the king that it was like a sailing ship and built to withstand existing in its element year round. Also, that the power sources he had created wouldn’t burn out for a long time.

“You’re looking dapper and dashing today, Trip,” came Rysha’s voice from behind him.

Trip had sensed her coming, but she’d been walking and talking with Major Kaika as she strode into the garden, so he hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Now, he turned to smile warmly at her. Rysha and Kaika wore their dress uniforms, both appearing sharp and professional. Kaika continued on, but Rysha stopped in front of Trip.

“Thank you,” he said aloud, though he was tempted to use telepathy. He hadn’t expected the gardens to be so crowded, with dozens of conversations going on all around and a man playing a woodwind instrument in front of a hedgerow. “You look good too.”

Rysha smiled and tucked a deep pink lilac flower into the pocket of Trip’s uniform jacket. The bushes were in bloom all over the garden, an array of purple, blue, white, and pink, and their sweet scent filled the area.

“Did you cut that from one of the king’s lilac bushes?” Trip asked.

Rysha patted Dorfindral’s scabbard, which hung in its usual place on the left side of her belt. The medal recipients weren’t technically supposed to be armed, but when Trip had asked Zirkander about it, he’d said to bring Azarwrath. Rysha must have received the same advice from Kaika about her blade. Trip smirked at the idea of using a sword to cut flowers.

“Is that allowed? It seems like taking the king’s flowers might be deemed a heinous crime, punishable by public flogging or life in prison.” Trip kept waiting to hear whether or not he was going to spend his life in prison. The dragon attack had interrupted his inquest before it could start, but when he’d left that Colonel Srandark glowering, he’d expected he would have to see him again. However, when Trip had reported in for work the next morning, none of his superiors had said anything about it. The whole week had been like that, and now, he was getting a medal. Did they give medals to people before throwing them in jail?

“I was merely pruning the bush,” Rysha said. “Its flower production was overzealous, completely dwarfing that of the neighboring lilacs.”

“So, you’re saying that bushes that outshine the others and don’t fit in should be trimmed back to match the herd?” Trip arched an eyebrow.

“The herd? Trip, do they not garden in Charkolt? Bushes don’t grow in herds.”

“I see you avoided my question.”

“Only because your metaphor distracted me by tripping and falling on its nose.” She stepped closer and patted him on the chest. “You know I’m partial to bushes that stand out.”

“Hm.” He knew they weren’t supposed to display affection while in uniform, but he slipped his arm around her waist, just for a moment.

“On that note, I see you’re not radiating your scylori today.”

“No. I tried letting a little show one day, and everyone kept asking me if I’d gotten my hair cut.”

She snorted. “It’s possible you weren’t doing it right. Dragons just let it all hang out.”

“If I did that in the king’s garden, I’d be in even more trouble than a flower bandit.”

Her next pat was more of a swat. “I mean that I don’t think they try to modulate their auras. It does seem to be naturally diminished when they shape-shift—perhaps that’s part of why they evolved to change into other creatures, as a defense mechanism to hide from other dragons. But even when Shulina Arya is human, you still feel her otherness. And want to gaze at her in an enraptured state. And bring her baked goods.”

“I mostly want to tug on her pigtails and ask how much she would charge to babysit some of my siblings.”

“It’s possible you have some inborn immunity to the effects of dragon auras.”

“Possible.”

She gazed thoughtfully at him, and he could tell she expected a response to her observation.

“I have decided that I don’t want my scylori to affect my friends or family or comrades, so I’ll keep it in check during my day-to-day life, but if there are opportunities when it may prove useful, I won’t hesitate to let it shine through. And I won’t try to hide what I am anymore. I suppose now that I’ve been written up in the newspapers, there isn’t much point of that anyway, but… I’ve spent too much time hiding what I can do out of a fear of rejection, and it shouldn’t have taken me nearly as long as it did to realize that I could build something like that.” He waved toward the weapons platform. Most days, it had been positioned a little north of the city, but today, the corner was in view from the gardens. “I love flying and will happily continue to be a member of Wolf Squadron for as long as they’ll have me, but if I can do more by stepping out of the cockpit, I have to be ready to do so.”

“I do believe you may be maturing, Trip.”

“I have to. Otherwise, this older lady I know might get tired of my youthful antics.”

“She would be more likely to get tired of having sex in a tiny barracks bunk. Perhaps we should pool our resources and rent a small apartment with a large bed.”

“I was going to build a place on the lot across from General Zirkander’s house, but I saw that the for-sale sign disappeared. I hope whoever bought it doesn’t mind dragons sleeping in the yard across the street.”

“Huh. I wonder what crazy person has been real estate shopping in the capital when dragon attacks have been a weekly event of late.” Rysha smiled as she spoke the words.

“What do you know that I don’t know?” Trip was tempted to skim through her surface thoughts, but he tried to respect her privacy. Most of the time.

Someone clapped his hands, and the woodwind player increased his volume for a few seconds before winding down.

“I know that the ceremony is starting.” Rysha winked and walked over to stand with the elite troops sword wielders who were also being given medals.

Trip? Rysha thought, glancing back at him. Are you listening?

I’m always attentive to your needs.

Exactly what a woman wants to hear. Rysha looked skyward, toward the weapons platform. When you get a chance, use your dragonly powers to paint a mural on the bottom of that, will you? It’s all beams and girders and conduits and who knows what. It’s hideous. There have already been newspaper articles complaining that it’ll bring down property values in the city.

So does having dragons light your neighborhood on fire.

Or your orchard or vineyard.

Trip grimaced. He hadn’t meant to remind her of that. Sorry.

It’s all right. I’m merely suggesting that if it’s possible…

My dragonly powers didn’t grant me the ability to do artwork, but I’ll see if I can find an interested party who would like to work on it for little-to-no pay.

Excellent.

I think Tylie likes art, Trip said, inspiration striking. I’ve seen her wandering around the house with brushes.

She already babysits for little-to-no pay, doesn’t she? Rysha asked. She may be looking to move up the financial ladder.

I’ll ask. Maybe I can find someone to babysit for her while she paints.

That… actually could be easier than you think soon. She gave him that knowing smile again.

Once again, he was tempted to pry, but someone thumped him on the back.

“Nice flower, Trip,” Leftie said. “Very manly.”

“Not everybody can afford to adorn himself with gold balls.” Trip allowed himself to be drawn over to join the other pilots.

“Just one of my balls is gold. The other is tungsten.”

Duck, Pimples, and General Zirkander all turned toward Leftie, their faces taking on expressions ranging from puzzled to deeply concerned.

The musician played the final notes as the king walked in flanked by his bodyguards. Even though more than two dozen soldiers were receiving medals, Trip suddenly felt nervous and worried he would do something wrong. There had to be close to two hundred people in the garden, including two journalists with pads and pens and a photographer with a large box camera set up near the king’s small dais. What if Trip tripped on his way up to get his medal? The two previous times he’d been awarded medals, they had simply been given at the front of the end-of-day company formation back in Charkolt. Not in front of royalty. Or photographers.

Two assistants trailed the king and the bodyguards, one carrying a velvet-lined box with the medals inside and the other carrying a tray with its contents hidden by a silver dome. As the king turned to face the gathering, the medal recipients lined up in tidy squads. The rest of the people, a mixture of soldiers and civilian relatives, found seats.

As soon as everyone was quiet, King Angulus started a speech about bravery and selfless sacrifice and protecting the country. Trip would have paid more attention, but he was distracted by sensing a dragon approaching. Not an enemy this time, fortunately. Shulina Arya.

Did she plan to come watch her rider get a medal? If she flew over the garden in her dragon form, that might alarm those audience members who weren’t yet accustomed to seeing dragons up close. Trip looked toward the garden entrances, also envisioning her arriving in human form and on a scooter.

While he was looking back there, his gaze snagged on two familiar faces, faces he hadn’t expected to see here. His grandmother and grandfather stood behind the seating area with Sardelle.

Trip lifted a hand and almost spoke to them telepathically before catching himself. They might have gotten the newspapers and learned more about him than they had ever suspected—he’d written a couple of letters since coming out west and had mentioned embracing his talents and studying with Sardelle—but he still hadn’t broken the dragon-sire news to them, and he’d been intentionally vague when explaining where his little siblings came from. He doubted they were ready for telepathic greetings.

They saw his wave, smiled, and waved back, appearing supportive rather than judgmental. Not that he’d expected anything less from them. After all, they had sacrificed much over the years, moving often to keep him safe.

Not far from them stood Rysha’s aunt Tadelay. Trip was glad she wasn’t looking at him, because he would have blushed horribly—he still hadn’t gotten over the circumstances, and lack of clothing, of their first meeting.

To his surprise, Rysha’s mother and father stood next to her aunt. Trip hoped their presence here meant they were coming to accept Rysha’s enlistment in the army. Though they were nudging each other and pointing at Major Kaika, not at their daughter. Quite a few people in the audience were doing that. And the box camera seemed to be pointed in her direction. Were some—or many—of these people here to see the future queen? Maybe they had little interest in the soldiers receiving medals.

Oddly, Trip found that a relief. Maybe nobody would even look at him.

Leftie cleared his throat and poked Trip with an elbow. “He said your name,” Leftie whispered.

“Oh!” Trip blurted, turning back to the front and catching King Angulus looking at him as Duck strode back from the dais, having just been pinned with his medal.

Trip’s first instinct was to sprint up there so he didn’t cause a hold up, but that would be a good way to draw attention, and he’d just been delighted that the attention was focused elsewhere.

He lifted his chin, let a tiny bit of his scylori show, and strode forward, attempting to look dignified. Angulus’s eyebrows twitched. Trip hoped he wouldn’t ask if he’d had a haircut recently.

While Trip was in the middle of saluting, Angulus’s gaze flicked to his chest—no, to his lilac—but he didn’t comment on it. Maybe Trip should have tucked that fully inside the pocket.

“We thank you for your service to Our country, Captain Telryn Yert,” Angulus said solemnly and held his hand out toward one of the assistants.

The blank-faced man placed a gold medal in Angulus’s grip. Trip hoped Leftie wouldn’t ask that he receive tungsten instead of gold.

“I suspect you’ll be pleased to know,” Angulus said in a low voice, stepping forward to pin the medal on the flap of Trip’s jacket pocket, the one opposite the pocket holding the non-regulation lilac, “that Lord Lockvale, once he recovered his voice, came to see me with his brother. He said that he believed he made an error that night outside of the Ravenwood property and that you did not attack him.”

Once he got his voice back? What did that mean?

Trip resisted the urge to glance back at Rysha, though Angulus did look in her direction, smiling slightly.

“I’m glad to hear that, Sire. Does that mean there won’t be an inquest?”

“It does. I would suggest you go out of your way not to irk any nobles in the coming years, but they are an easily irkable bunch.”

Trip sensed he was referring to the rigmarole he was dealing with in the wake of announcing his engagement.

“I’ll try, Sire, but it may be hard if Lieutenant Ravenwood invites me to another family dinner. Her kin haven’t yet accepted how handy it can be to have a sorcerer around.”

“Oh? It was my understanding that Lady Tadelay finds your assets appealing.”

If the king hadn’t been holding his pocket flap, Trip might have fallen over. Was he referencing the night of… nakedness? How could he have heard about that? Surely, he didn’t have tea regularly with Tadelay. Did he?

Trip’s cheeks grew so warm, they felt like someone was painting the insides with a blowtorch.

“Yes, my assets,” Trip managed to respond, since Angulus was looking at him, eyebrows raised. “I try to make them useful.”

“I’m sure Lieutenant Ravenwood is pleased.”

“I…” Seven gods, what did he say to that?

“On an unrelated note, you might be curious to know that an elder gold dragon has appeared in the Tlongan Steppes and is apparently waiting for lobsters to be delivered to him.”

“Drysaleskar?”

Angulus nodded. “It seems he reconsidered your offer.”

“Oh, uhm.” Though Trip was relieved to be discussing something other than his assets now, he didn’t know how the king would take this. Now that they had a working weapons platform capable of driving off dragon attacks, would he be willing to pay tribute to an old grump simply for taking up residence in their country?” “Will you be sending the lobsters?”

“Yes. It won’t hurt to have him down there, so long as he behaves himself, especially since it’ll take a while to make more of those platforms to station around the country.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Trip was glad the king planned to go through with the offer they’d made to the dragon. It would be better to have too many allies than too few, and who knew what the future would bring? He remembered Shulina Arya’s parents’ presentation about population difficulties and assumed there would continue to be clashes between humans and dragons.

Angulus finished with the medal and rested a hand on Trip’s shoulder. “I don’t know if your commanders and fellow pilots tell you this—knowing Zirkander’s people, I doubt it—but We are deeply appreciative that you have joined the Iskandian army and are using your powers to help protect Our people.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Trip said.

“While I must appear fair and impartial to the populace, know that you can come to the castle any time if you want to see me about dragons or your siblings or anything else. The guards have instructions to let you in, though I suspect you could get in on your own.”

“Er, yes, Sire, but an invitation is nice.” Trip was stunned by the offer. He wouldn’t have expected the king to want a lowly captain to pester him any day, much less any time of the day.

You’re a powerful sorcerer, Telryn, Azarwrath put in. Your military rank is immaterial.

“Just avoid times when I’m making my assets useful,” Angulus said. “Unless it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, Sire.” Damn, there went that blowtorch again.

Angulus patted him on the shoulder and nodded for him to return to the queue. As Trip strode back, the first of the elite troops sword wielders, Colonel Grady, headed up. Rysha, Captain Brex, and Captain Onkali were also receiving medals—Trip had seen those two officers during the battle, flying behind Pimples and Ahn, and he’d healed Onkali for burns afterward.

Major Kaika, Colonel Therrik, and General Zirkander stood off to the side, watching the proceedings. It seemed they weren’t being awarded medals this time, though the awards and ribbons on their dress uniforms indicated they had received many in the past. Maybe the king and the army had decided to highlight the newer generation of soldiers. Or maybe Angulus would have simply felt odd pinning an award on his fiancée’s chest.

“What was he talking to you about up there?” Leftie whispered.

Angulus had said a few words when each of the other pilots had gone up, but as Grady soon returned, Trip realized the king had spoken to him longer.

“My assets,” Trip said, not wanting to fuel any envy, not that Leftie would necessarily want an invitation to the castle. An invitation to a brothel, more likely.

“Seems like that would have been a short conversation, not a long one.”

Trip elbowed him, which prompted General Zirkander to look over and raise a finger to his lips.

After the male officers received their awards, Angulus crooked a finger for Rysha to come up. Trip sensed Shulina Arya on the move. Earlier, she’d landed on a rooftop down the hill from the castle. Now, she flew swiftly toward the gardens.

Trip debated whether he should warn the king, but Angulus hadn’t included an invitation to make telepathic contact in his offer.

Your dragon is coming, he said silently to Rysha as she walked toward the dais.

I know. She’s very excited for the ceremony.

Because you’re being honored with a medal?

Because we’re being honored.

A shadow fell across the gardens, and the spectators looked up, many gasping in surprise and alarm. Some of them looked to the king for a cue, saw that he didn’t bat an eye, and settled quickly. Others looked uneasily toward the exits. Trip sensed Sardelle spreading a feeling of unconcern and contentment, trying to influence the spectators. It seemed to work. They settled further, turning their attention back to the king.

Shulina Arya glided into the gardens and found just enough room to land and sit on her haunches between the dais and the first row of medal recipients. The soldiers scooted back to give her more room.

As Trip checked the king for a reaction, he realized Angulus had expected this. Had he invited the dragon to come?

Like he could have stopped her. Jaxi snickered into Trip’s mind. You’ve seen his guards ineffectively chase her in human form.

She is difficult to catch when she’s wheeled.

Angulus started talking to Rysha—and to Shulina Arya, as well, Trip realized when he glanced up at the dragon’s head. Trip hadn’t paid attention to what he was saying to the other medal recipients, since he’d been speaking in a low, private voice, but curiosity drove him to magically augment his hearing so he could listen in.

“As I recall,” Angulus was saying, “I had some reservations about permanently assigning a magical sword to such a young officer and also allowing her to become the first dragon rider Iskandia has seen in over a thousand years.”

“I do remember that, Sire.”

Angulus started to speak again, but Shulina Arya bent her long neck so that her large head was level with his and Rysha’s. Her violet eyes regarded them from only a few feet away. Murmurs went through the crowd, and the king’s bodyguards fingered their weapons.

Trip caught Colonel Therrik’s mutter of, “It’s not worth being king if you have to let dragons breathe on you.”

Zirkander elbowed him, much as Leftie had done to Trip earlier.

“Don’t tell me you and your sarcastic mouth weren’t thinking the same thing, Zirkander.”

“Actually,” Zirkander whispered, “I was thinking that Angulus better finish pinning on that medal quickly and give the dragon whatever he’s got under that cloche.”

“Do you get used to that and stop finding it alarming?” Angulus asked Rysha, tilting his head toward Shulina Arya.

Shulina Arya appeared curious, unthreatening, and maybe even eager, but she still exuded typical dragon scylori, and it couldn’t be easy to ignore her. Most of the spectators had grown silent and wore the enraptured looks Trip had come to recognize as they gazed at her. His grandparents looked as much stunned as enraptured, and he assumed this was their first dragon sighting. Certainly, their first up-close dragon sighting.

“It depends on how early in the morning it is when she pokes her head in, Sire,” Rysha said calmly, appearing unflappable speaking to the king, as always. “And whether I’m wearing my spectacles or not. If I’m not, the large gold blur can be a tad alarming.”

A mental throat clearing sounded in Trip’s mind. Judging by how wry Angulus’s expression became, he heard it too.

“I believe that’s our signal to get on with things.” Angulus accepted one of the last medals from the assistant with the velvet-lined box, then stepped forward to pin it to Rysha’s pocket flap. He raised his voice so the spectators could hear him. “We are grateful for your assistance and your bravery in dealing with Iskandia’s enemies and trust that you will have a long and fruitful career in Our military, since it is clear to Us that you were destined to be an officer and a dragon rider.”

Angulus looked over at Rysha’s parents before continuing on, and Trip was tickled when they squirmed under his gaze.

“We hope that there will be fewer attacks on Our fine country in the future,” Angulus went on, “but We are relieved that you and the noble dragon Shulina Arya are here to defend Us.”

Rysha grinned over at Shulina Arya, and Trip sensed the dragon had said something to her. She radiated pleasure at being called noble, and the tip of her tail lifted and waved about, the gesture somewhere between a dog wagging and a cat swishing its tail. Trip hadn’t seen it before. Maybe excitement that she couldn’t quite contain? There wasn’t room for her to twirl here.

Zirkander, Therrik, and Kaika, who were standing behind the tail, scooted back lest they be whipped by the scaled appendage.

Angulus finished pinning on Rysha’s medal, then waved to his assistant with the box. The man lifted a velvet tray and withdrew another medal from underneath it, this one larger, with a very long ribbon.

Angulus looked at Shulina Arya and seemed to be considering how to get it around her neck when the medal was lifted from his hands. The audience murmured as it floated through the air by itself. The ribbon unraveled and slipped over the dragon’s head. It settled around her neck, the gold medal coming to rest against the gleaming scales of her chest.

“We also thank you for your help in defeating Our enemies, Shulina Arya,” Angulus said formally, lowering his hands.

Nobly, Shulina Arya replied, the word going out to everyone.

“Nobly,” Angulus agreed, then gestured to the second assistant.

The man watched the dragon warily as he approached with the covered tray. Shulina Arya’s head shifted, her violet eyes locking onto the silver cloche with more intensity than she had considered the medal. The man halted, perhaps thinking those eyes were locked onto him. He looked like he might flee.

“Over here, Adlei,” Angulus said firmly, pointing beside him.

But it was Sardelle, once again sending out a sensation of soothing, that affected the man. He managed to get to the king’s side with the tray. Angulus accepted it, then held it toward the dragon.

“A small token of our appreciation, Shulina Arya.” Angulus lifted the cloche with dramatic flair.

A gorgeous array of colorful miniature tarts of different varieties lay on the tray. Lemon, blueberry, apple, and ones made with exotic fruits that Trip couldn’t identify.

A surge of delight emanated from Shulina Arya, one he suspected the entire audience experienced. Then her great tongue slid out to lick the various tarts. Trip, remembering the jawbreaker incident, imagined them falling onto the ground and the tongue following them, having difficulty picking them up. But Shulina Arya knew how to handle tarts. After this first taste, which Angulus watched with an unalarmed and bland expression he must have spent his entire reign mastering, the tongue withdrew, and the tarts floated one by one into Shulina Arya’s mouth.

I wonder if Bhrava Saruth is going to be upset that he wasn’t invited, Trip thought so the soulblades could hear him.

A second dragon would not have fit in the gardens, Azarwrath remarked.

I understand a similar assortment of tarts was delivered to his temple, Jaxi replied.

But no medal? Trip asked. No adulation from a crowd of potential worshippers? Is a tart delivery enough? He seems like a rather needy dragon, and he did help with the battle.

He did, Jaxi agreed. And that’s why the king invited him to come. But he declined. Due to extreme busyness. You see, there was a write-up recently in the newspaper about the bravery of Iskandia’s dragon allies, and he and his temple were mentioned. Somehow, a line got in about his godliness and how he is available at his temple to give blessings, and especially enjoys blessing young, beautiful women.

Uh, Trip thought. Did he write that article?

Sardelle and I suspect that he visited the journalist late one night and exerted his dragonly influence.

Is the journalist female?

It seems she is.

That dragon is shameless, Azarwrath said. Though from what I remember of my era when dragons had more of a presence in the world, shame isn’t a word in their language.

Unsurprising, Jaxi said.

What of Phelistoth? Trip asked. Was he recognized? He also arrived in time to help.

He was not interested in being recognized. He dislikes crowds, especially crowds of Iskandians. He is, after all, a Cofah dragon, even if Tylie has chosen to live here. Angulus wasn’t quite correct in naming Rysha as the first rider. Tylie has been riding Phelistoth around for years. She simply isn’t a warrior at heart—and Phelistoth considers himself a scholar rather than a fighter—so they never stepped forward to proclaim themselves here to defend the country. That said, Phelistoth certainly ends up in a lot of fights for a dragon who doesn’t like battles. It may have something to do with his aloof personality.

It does seem a shame if he wasn’t recognized. No tart delivery?

Not tarts, but there was a large delivery of coffee beans to the house with a thank-you note from Angulus with wishes that Phelistoth would enjoy the variety of exotic blends from other continents. You know that you and your lieutenant are the main reason that coffee made it to Iskandian shores. Given how many people drink the stuff, you probably should have received a second medal for that deed.

Once Shulina Arya had finished the tarts and sufficiently licked the tray, she sprang into the air with her medal around her neck and twirled and twisted impressively. Trip didn’t know if she was intentionally putting on a show for those below or merely expressing her pleasure and appreciation of her treats, but ooohs and ahhhhs came from the crowd as she gyrated in the air, defying gravity. He sensed a palpable wave of disappointment when she disappeared from view, flying back to that rooftop to wait for Rysha to finish.

The king thanked everyone for coming and invited them to enjoy snacks and drinks that would be brought out shortly—presumably, it had been deemed wise to wait for the dragon to leave before serving the refreshments intended for human guests.

“Is she as pleased as she seemed?” Trip asked when Rysha came to stand next to him.

The formal rows had broken up as soon as the king left the dais, his bodyguards surrounding him to keep him from being flocked by onlookers. Trip doubted anyone aside from the sword wielders had weapons or presented a danger to him, but the bodyguards were likely also there to keep people from pestering him about wedding details. He did walk straight over to join Major Kaika. After head nods and polite murmurs of “Sire,” Therrik and Zirkander stepped away from her side.

“Very pleased,” Rysha said. “She kept me up late last night asking how the ceremony would go. I had no experience receiving awards—unless one counts the medals I won in sports, math, and spelling competitions as a youth—so I couldn’t tell her. I did relay stories of historical medal ceremonies for prominent heroes throughout the ages, though I couldn’t remember any tales of kings giving awards to dragons.”

“I imagine it happened occasionally in the First Dragon Era.”

“You would think so. I find it hard to believe that Shulina Arya is the first dragon delighted by such things. I believe it’s now a proven fact that sweets are the way to their hearts. But if Shulina Arya wants to believe she’s the first dragon to have been so honored by a human king, I see nothing wrong with that.”

Trip nodded. “Seems reasonable to me. Do you think his comment about the army being your destiny will change your parents’ opinions of your career? I noticed he looked their way.”

“We’ll see. I’m more concerned about changing their opinions of you.” Rysha clasped his hand. “Why don’t we go to them and see if they’re affected by how dapper and dashing you are? And flower-adorned.”

“I’m willing. And my grandparents are here too. They’ll be pleased to see you again, I’m sure.”

“That’s them at the buffet table, isn’t it?”

“Yes, they’ve never been to the castle. I’m sure they’re eager to enjoy the offerings. Though my grandmother is probably already commenting on the food and remarking how her recipes are superior.”

“Perhaps you can distract her by asking her about the empty lot they recently purchased.” Rysha’s eyes twinkled.

It took Trip a moment to understand what she was implying—and to realize why she’d been acting like she knew something that he didn’t earlier.

“I understand your grandmother has already had a long chat with Sardelle—she’s interested in helping out with your siblings—and that your grandfather has ordered lumber to start building soon.”

“How did you know all this before I did?” Trip wondered if his grandparents had sent a letter and he had missed it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had checked the mail room at the barracks.

Her eyes twinkled even more. “I haven’t been spending all my time at Bhrava Saruth’s temple, building weapons and cleaning latrines.”

“Huh.”

Telryn, Azarwrath said as Trip and Rysha walked hand-in-hand toward the crowd, I do believe you should visit your grandparents first. They’re far more pleasant than Rysha’s parents, and it’s been longer since you’ve seen them.

You just want me to go to the buffet table and try the king’s food, don’t you?

I have been observing the offerings as they’ve been brought out. The lobster is dripping with butter, there’s chilled caviar, and oh goodness, what are those slender steaks with some kind of jam on them? You must try everything, Telryn.

“Are you all right?” Rysha asked, watching his face.

“Yes, it’s just that my sword wants to fatten me up.”

“Perhaps if you learn to shape-shift and fly, you’ll have the metabolism of a dragon and be able to eat whatever you want.”

“Is it the flying that allows that or their size?”

“I don’t know. That would be an interesting scientific study. I wonder if Shulina Arya would lend herself to it.”

“Her parents would be interested, I imagine.”

“It’s too bad they didn’t come to the ceremony,” Rysha said, “though I imagine there’s a limit to how many dragons can fit in the king’s gardens.”

“Not really.” Trip pointed to a couple of familiar men at the buffet table dressed in professorial attire.

Rysha laughed. “Oh good. I didn’t see them before.”

Hurry, Telryn, or those shape-shifted dragons will eat all the food.