Xyra scurried close behind Miss Vora. She walked so fast! The strange things on the wall made keeping up hard. They pulled at her eyes, slowing her down to look at them. Were they...people? In a way, they looked like people. Like someone took colors and mixed them together to make people. All so strange. Before, when she trailed behind Volsten, many of them resembled humans, with a few dragons here and there. This was the other way. There were no humans, and centaurs and minotaurs joined the dragons.

Xyra wanted to ask what they were, but Miss Vora seemed eager to move.

At the end of the hall was a light. As they came closer, a wonderful smell filled the air. When they crossed into it, she gasped. The room was huge, much bigger than the one they left. All was white, and the walls looked smooth and shiny. The floor was white as well, but Xyra's barefeet felt its roughness.

On one side was clear glass, and this let her see...what did Volsten call it? The White Tower? Yes, the glass let her see the White Tower. It seemed to go up forever! And it was very pretty. Though, looking at it made her feel strange. It sat in the middle of a big empty circle of blue road, as if it didn't want anything close to it. Far away, yet she felt it right above her.

Back to the room, she put the tower out of her mind. In the room's center was what Xyra could only think was a square pond, set into the floor. The water was clear, calm, and the sun played gracefully on its bottom.

Clink, Clink

The sound brought Xyra's attention to Miss Vora. Her golden things rested on the white floor, and she was just beginning to slip out of her dress.

"Those clothes are disgusting," Miss Vora said. "Be rid of them."

"Yes, I've had them on for quite a while..." She pulled the robe over her head, followed by the tattered gown.

"My goddess!" Vora gasped. "Who tied your wings like that?"

Xyra looked down. Oh! The pain had become so familiar that she forgot. "Volsten...did." Xyra grabbed the rope and snapped it. She didn't bother flaring her wings.

Miss Vora's gentle face hardened into a mask as she slipped into the water. Xyra felt eyes on her body as she placed a foot into the water. Warm! She sank her weary body neck deep. The relief was almost too much. She closed her eyes, mind numbing to all but the comfort.

"Xyra, dear," Vora's gentle voice called out to her.

The words pulled Xyra back into the moment. Across from her, Miss Vora's hair was different. It was still black, but two large, long braids hung on either side of her shoulder. Did she wear someone else's hair? Did human hair change that fast? Answering her question was the stone head behind Vora that now wore her old hair. Humans are so strange!

"How old are you, if I may ask?"

"19. Why do you ask, Miss Vora?"

"It's just...hmm. 19?" Miss Vora raised an eyebrow. "You aren't a mature dragon yet, so I guess that explains that."

What does she mean by that? Xyra didn't think her age mattered much at all.

"You poor thing!" Vora said. "Those wings look terrible. How long have they been like that?"

Terrible, awful flashes of darkness and blood. Xyra sank even lower into the water. "Days. I was...I was taken."

Vora's face was very confused. "Did...Volsten take you? I didn't think he was that stupid. Or resourceful."

"No. They were tall and thin, with masks of white. And there were a lot of them."

"Elves!" Vora said, eyes narrowing.

"That's what Volsten said..."

"I believe you've escaped a terrible fate."

Xyra swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when you consider the very nature of elves, you'll find that anything they do leads to horror." Vora brought her hand up from the waters and snapped. Xyra watched as a small flame appeared above her fingers. Volsten never told her that Vora knew magic.

"Do you know of blood magic?" Vora continued.

Xyra shook her head. She didn't know much of anything about magic, and neither did most dragons. As far as she knew, she was the only one to use it.

"I'll spare you the treatises written on it by mages long dead and make it short. Everyone with an affinity for casting spells and whatnot draws from the Well. We don't know what it is or why we do so, but we do. However, instead of the Well, one can also draw on the power inherent in life itself-in blood itself." The flame above Vora's hand grew brighter and fiercer. "Life burns quickly, and it burns brightly. Blood is a much stronger fuel for magic than whatever we can get from the Well. But it comes at the price of both life and sanity. As such, it's been banned in Adamore for much of our history."

"They wanted my...blood?" Xyra asked. The flame was casting its light over Miss Vora and the bath.

"I believe so. It's to my understanding that your people possess a potent lifeforce, far beyond all other creatures. Enough to fuel hundreds of blood castings." Vora snapped, and the flame was gone. "That is to say, they'd use you to fuel something massive."

Xyra found herself cold despite the warm waters. "What would they do...something really bad?"

"I've no idea, darling. Anything they so desire."

"Oh..." Xyra stared into the waters. Then, she remembered. Words said through masks, in sharp bursts. "They said...I'm special, Miss Vora."

Another of Miss Vora's thin eyebrows raised. "How so?"

"Do you see my color, Miss Vora?" Xyra raised herself from the water to give Miss Vora a better look. "My skin is pale, very pale. They said that a dragon like me may never come again. And my magic..."

"Goodness, you know magic?" Vora's eyes widened. "Dragons aren't known for their mages."

"Yes..."

"Then it's assured that you'd be fodder for something quite awful." Miss Vora grabbed at a small bar of something on the edge of the bath. "I shudder to think what it could be."

"Would they kill me?" Xyra asked, again sinking low. Kill. The word triggered her, and she blinked away the memories of dead people in the forest.

"It's possible." Miss Vora was sliding the small bar all over herself, and a wonderful scent was wafting into Xyra's nose. "If they needed a massive burst, they'd kill you. If they needed to sustain something powerful, then you'd be in for a lifetime of agony."

Vora became blurry through Xyra's tears. She imagined a dark room with masks shifting in and out of view, far from home, far from anyone who loved her, screaming in pain as they drained her of life.

Water sloshed until she felt a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Xyra. They can't touch you here, not when you're deep in Adamore."

Xyra nodded, but tears already joined the water below.

Miss Vora held up the small yellow bar. "Now, do you know what this is?"

"No, Miss Vora."

"It's soap," Miss Vora said. "It's something we humans use to mask the fact that we naturally smell quite foul."

"So...it smells good?" Xyra already knew that it did, but she didn't know what else to say.

"I think so." She pushed it towards her. "Try it yourself."

Xyra took the small yellow bar. It was wet and smooth, and Xyra nearly dropped it. She mimicked what Miss Vora did earlier. The wonderful scent of it filled her nose. "It smells so nice!"

Miss Vora squeezed her shoulder, then waded back to the other side. She slapped something shiny next to her.

Ding

A few moments later a small, high voice answered. "Yes, Mistress Vora?"

"Would you bring something nice for our guest to wear?" She pointed at something behind Xyra. "Oh, and burn those rags."

Xyra heard the rustling of clothes behind, but she was too busy washing to look. The soap felt amazing on her skin. She coiled her tail up and ran the soap all around it. That made her giggle.

"Don't stare, Kita," Vora said. "It's rude."

"But Mistress Vora..." the voice trailed away.

"The clothes, Kita. Please."

There were loud, fast footsteps out of the room.

Xyra looked up to see Miss Vora's hand on her face. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Vora said. "Just...be careful. It may take some time for my help to warm up to you."

"Oh. I hope they like me."

"They'll learn to." Her hand fell away and revealed a smile. "Now, let's finish up so that our putrid knight may clean himself!"

*

Volsten waited in the dining room. After the relaxation of bathing, he'd nearly dosed off again. All that kept him awake was the aroma of something divine, and the ill-fit of Dolent's clothes. Volsten was a considerably larger man than Vora's father, so his black tunic and trousers were suffocating.

Volsten waited, head propped up by a hand. He watched as the pale little Tenraki girl set the table. She'd been the one to wake him in the study just moments before Vora and Xyra burst in, smelling of sweet soaps. Vora ushered him out of the room with haste and forbade him from going anywhere that wasn't the bath.

The girl was new. She still moved with small, unsure motions, as if afraid of the very air itself. She set the plates a bit too hard; they clanked. A few times, she knocked the silverware from the table onto the floor, and tried to hastily place them back on their napkins. Volsten floated that she should wash them, in a voice he thought to be reassuring. At the first sound of his words she flinched as if struck, before stammering a "Yes, sir!" in her thick Tenraki accent and sprinting away. In truth, he was quite annoyed with her presence.

Vora sauntered into the room. No longer was she a whiter version of a Khebian queen. No gold inlaid with jewels, no painted eyes. She wore her hair as usual, with two thick braids on either side. No thin veil of a dress either, discarded in favor of a simple white gown. Simple for Vora, that was. It was still thin enough for one to see the shapes beneath it. Volsten willed his heart be quiet.

She walked the length of the table, and when Volsten saw that she picked the seat next to him, he stood.

"My lady," he said. He pulled the chair out for her.

She thanked him with a backhand to the chest. "Sit, you fool."

His chivalry riposted, he sat wounded next to her. "I do my duty."

"Did Kita set this table?" Vora asked, staring at the napkins missing silverware.

So, her name was Kita. "Pale Tenraki girl? Yes, she did."

"I told her to expect three, yet she sets the entire table. Missing silverware. Offset plates." She sighed.

"To be fair, she did drop some of them too." He held his laugh when Vora's green eyes narrowed at him. "So, even worse than you think."

As if called, Kita stepped in from the kitchen door, laden with silverware, apron wet with dishwater. She pretended to not notice them, but Vora made sure that it was short lived.

"Kita, dear," she sang softly, yet not soft enough to calm Kita. "These plates are offset."

She nodded ferociously and made her way around the long table, jerking each plate into proper position, placing forks and spoons neatly on napkins. When she finished, she stood behind the two of them, quiet as a mouse.

"That'll be all, Kita. Tell Netti and Igna we're ready now."

She curtsied and nearly sprinted to the kitchen door. After a moment a man and a woman wearing the tell-tale whites of a chef burst through the door, each holding a dome-topped platter firmly with two hands. Netti and Igna. Igna was a fine enough woman, somewhat plain for Volsten's taste. But he didn't dislike the look of her.

"Ah, Sir Volsten!" Netti said, planting his platter in the table's middle. Netti's smile was quite possibly the most disturbing thing in the world. Not because he was particularly ugly, but his was a face not meant to look joyful. "I thought you were dead this time."

"As did I," Volsten said.

Both he and Igna lifted their coverings at the same time. Beneath Igna's were two huge slabs of sweetened venison, topped with bits of cabbage. Next to it was a bowl of salad, with sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and what looked to be olives and spinach.

Beneath Netti's was a white pudding, surrounded by a sea of tarts filled with cream and strawberries.

They stood with heads high and arms behind their backs. No one could ever understand a chef's pride.

"Goodness, Igna," Vora said, eyeing the platter. "For the sake of the deer I may ban venison from my table."

"I'm sorry, my lady," Igna said as she bowed low. "I heard 'guests', and the last thing I wanted was for them to go hungry. A knight's hunger is large." Igna winked at him.

"That it is," Volsten attested. He was already going for the venison.

Vora smacked the shit out of his hand. He drew it back in boyish shame, trying to hide the fact that it stung quite a bit. The echo was enough to prove him a liar.

"And more of your wonderful pudding, Netti," Vora said with a delighted clap. "It all looks so wonderful!"

"Of course. To entertain our guests, it was the only choice."

"You darlings are dismissed."

The two bowed low and left in a hurry for the kitchen. Volsten waited for the door to close. "So, why is it that we wait?"

"Did the promise of money push Xyra from your mind? There are three sets here, for Inera's sake!"

"Oh, right." Volsten stared at the empty chair across from them, then to the steaming venison. "Where is she, then?"

"She wanted a bit more time in the study."

"To do what? Read?"

Vora flicked a braid from her shoulder. "Dragons are intelligent, whether you believe it or not. She's probably not reading, but there are many things in there for her to look at that don't involve words."

Volsten leaned back in his chair. Vora knew more about Val Eneyas and its creatures than anyone else. He'd defer to her opinion on that, but it didn't calm his growling stomach.

He'd given up on eating by the time Xyra shuffled in. She held a hefty book close to her chest with both arms, and Volsten realized something. This was the first time he'd seen her arms. The previous robe had tight sleeves that hugged, but this one did not. Her face told him that she was pale, but he'd never thought much of it. The red scales on her cheeks diminished her whiteness. But the arms, bare of scales as they were, showed it in full.

Xyra's feet pattered softly as she approached the table. She sat across from them, and placed the book on the table. She smiled a tiny smile as her eyes found the tarts.

"Well Xyra, what do you think?" Vora asked.

"I don't know, Miss Vora," she said. "There's so much!"

"Take whatever it is you want, dear."

Xyra reached with care for a tart. She held it lightly between two fingers and took a bite. Her face lit up, as bright as Volsten had ever seen it. That made her more beautiful than before.

"Oh my!" She placed a delicate hand on her scaled cheek. "These are amazing!" She reached for another.

"I'm glad you love it, Xyra," Vora said. "But don't fill yourself on dessert before the main course, dear."

Volsten was already in the process of cutting venison. Prepare to be perplexed, my lady.

Xyra finished the second tart, then looked to the main course. She and Vora were of the same mind, for they both reached for the one bowl of salad on the platter.

Volsten slapped the table to stifle laughter.

"Oh, the salad is mine, Xyra." Vora smiled at her.

Xyra looked utterly defeated. "I-I'm sorry! Is the meat for me?"

"Yes. Dragon diets are, by most estimations, majority meat."

One pale hand was drawn back to its side of the table. Xyra stared at her empty plate.

I suppose she won't speak up. "Do you remember what she called herself?"

Vora's eyes widened. "My goodness that was serious? You don't eat meat?"

Xyra's head shook without looking up. "No, Miss Vora. I can't stand to..."

A shame, because Igna's venison was simply divine. Goddess did he miss good food. Not bathing was terrible, but the true horror of the road was the dice-roll of inns and taverns.

"Take it, then," Vora said. She held the bowl across the table.

"No, it's fine-"

"Take it," Vora insisted. "I've no qualms with eating meat, even if I prefer not to."

Two pale hands cupped the silver bowl gently. "Thank you, Miss Vora!" Xyra dug into the salad with delight. She didn't see any reason to use a fork.

Volsten stared with amusement as he sipped from his glass. Bah! Wine. Far too sweet.

Of course Vora drank it with zeal, using it to wash down venison that was already sweet enough on its own.

They ate in silence for a while, silverware clanking on white porcelain plates. Xyra had drained her glass of wine, without so much as word about what it was.

Vora broke the silence. "We must discuss something."

He could tell by tone that she was serious. There was more venison on his plate-the last of his slab-but he decided to leave it alone for the time being. "Discuss away, my lady."

"Are you sure that no one caught a glimpse of her before you brought her here?"

He had to think about that. It was possible that, along the way, someone had seen her face. If they had, they didn't make it known. "A few bandits did."

Vora turned to him. "Where?"

"Redcrest, outside of a place called Ostic. There's no need to worry; most of them are dead."

"Most?" Vora didn't seem too fond of that. "They aren't in the business of telling the authorities anyway, so I believe that's fine. What about in Tregar?"

"Not that I know of," Volsten said, glancing at Xyra. She stared directly at him, and he turned right back to Vora. "What's wrong? Scared the Order will come knocking on your gate?"

"Yes, actually, I am! The Order has eyes in every corner of this city."

He didn't know what he expected. The King's Order cared little for titles or status. There were probably quite a few nobles beneath the tower.

"Reasonable fear," Volsten said, "but you have servants all over this palace. Surely that's-"

"I don't have as many servants as a woman of my stature deserves. With my name alone, I could fill this place to the brim. But I don't, because above all, I value loyalty. That should be all I have to say about that ridiculous assertion!"

Volsten sighed. "Yes, of course."

"The King's Order isn't all, however," she continued. "As you know, she was taken by elves. After what she's told me, there's no reason to believe that they've given up on her."

Xyra whimpered at that.

"I don't see what this has to do with me," Volsten said.

That caught him Vora's searching eyes. "Nothing I suppose, but in the event that someone did find out about Xyra, you're as good as executed. Better that than the elves find her scent on you, I guess. There's no telling what those things would do."

Volsten found his appetite waning. "Yes, you're right. But in Tregar? We're in the heart of Adamore."

"We are," she gestured towards Xyra, "wandering knight. Who knows if you'll be snatched on one of those roads you're so fond of."

"So what?" Volsten shrugged. "You want me to tremble in the capital for the rest of my life?"

"No," Vora said. "I just want you to be careful. No undue wandering, no grand trips to the Westland or any place too far. Be safe, Volsten."

The concern in her voice worried him. Vora was always worried about him, ever since they were small. It bordered on annoying, but at least he knew someone wondered where he was at any given moment. That comforted him at times. But this seemed less worrying, and more a warning.