Page 32 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
I went first.
The transition from shadow to light made me squint. The main thoroughfare was wider here, carved to accommodate Drakarn wings and tails. Spectators lined the upper levels, Scalvaris citizens who'd come to watch the Skalanth. Their voices created a droning background noise. Cheering. Commentary. Placing bets, probably.
Some of them noticed us immediately.
"Humans?"
"Is that the Warrior Lord's mate?"
"What are they doing here?"
The whispers spread like fire. I felt the weight of attention shift toward us. Hundreds of eyes. Judgment and curiosity and hostility all mixed together.
Keep moving. Don't react.
The street sloped upward, following the natural contours of the mountain. Ahead, I could see where it branched into multiple paths. Some leading deeper into the Temple district. Others curving toward different sections of the city.
I heard more whispers from the crowd.
"Give them ten minutes."
"I'm betting five."
"The Warrior Lord's going to lose his mind when his pet gets broken."
I kept walking. Let them talk. Words were just noise.
But the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades intensified. Being watched. Being judged. Every step documented and assessed.
"You okay?" Vega asked quietly.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'm fine."
She didn't push. We turned onto a side street that ran parallel to the main route. Fewer spectators here, but still visible from the upper levels. Present but not suicidal.
The street narrowed as we climbed. Buildings carved from the mountain itself pressed close on either side. Some had windows that glowed with internal light. Others were dark, abandoned or used for storage. The architecture was beautiful in its way. Functional but decorated with carvings that depicted battles and ceremonies and moments from Scalvaris history.
I'd studied some of those carvings during my time here. Learned the stories. Tried to understand the culture I'd mated into.
None of those lessons had prepared me for this.
"Movement ahead," Lexa warned.
I looked up. A warrior descended from above, wings spread to control his fall. He landed maybe twenty meters in front of us, claws scraping stone. His scales were a mottled brown and gray, good camouflage against the rock. Young, probably mid-twenties. Confident in the way that came from never having been seriously challenged.
He saw us and grinned.
"Three little humans, all alone." He flexed his claws. "This is almost too easy."
"This doesn’t have to be a fight," I said.
"You’re funny." He took a step forward. "Capturing the Warrior Lord's mate during the Skalanth? That's a story I can tell for years."
I put my hand on the hilt of my blade. "That’s not going to happen."
