Page 2 of The Dragon King’s Claw (The Dragons of Serai #17)

I spent most of the ride to the royal castle peering out the window. But I don't need to look directly at someone to investigate them. I mean, er, pay attention to them.

Sergeant Trand stared out the open window of the carriage as well, but he wasn't as calm as I was.

Oh, on the surface, he was the picture of a stoic soldier, but just beneath that, I saw the tells of a nervous man—the clenching of teeth, squeezing his knees with those big hands, and the twitching around his eyes.

The man needed a distraction. It seemed the perfect opportunity to practice my craft.

“How old is your daughter, Sergeant?”

Sergeant Trand jerked his stare at me. “What?”

“Your daughter. I believe she had a birthday recently. You gave her a kitten?”

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you a sorcerer?”

“Sorcerers work with the dead, Sergeant. I think you mean seer. I am neither. Although, I do see a lot. I'm very observant.”

“What did you observe about me that told you all that?” Trand leaned forward, all tension gone—replaced by fascination.

And we know how much I love fascination.

I smiled. “You're covered in cat fur.” I waved at the pale, fine fur that clung to his cuffs.

He looked down, then back at me. “All right, that tells you I have a cat, not a kitten. Nor does it say anything about my daughter.”

“There is a trace of frosting caught in the lacing of your left boot.” I sniffed. “Butterwhip, judging by the scent. Butterwhip is reserved for birthday treats, usually for children. Thus, I determined there was a child's birthday recently.”

Trand's jaw fell. He looked from his boot to me. Back at his boot. He found it at last—the crust of butterwhip frosting on a white shoelace. Imperceptible to most. After scratching it off, he lifted his finger to sniff it. “You could smell that from your seat?”

“Eljaffna have excellent senses. Mine are especially sharp when I focus.”

“All right, all right.” He held up his hands. “That still doesn't explain how you knew I had a daughter.”

“You are correct; the cat may have been a part of your household previous to the event.

But to have that much fur on your uniform makes me think that you're not used to the animal yet.

You haven't learned how much a cat sheds.

I deduced it was a gift, which led me to conclude that it was a young cat.

More often than not, parents give kittens to little girls and puppies to little boys.

I don't know why, but that has been my experience. Thus, you are the father of a little girl who recently celebrated a birthday and received a kitten as a present.”

“Dear Gods.” Trand sat back, his face splitting with a grin. “So that's why His Majesty sent for you. You're fucking amazing.”

I inclined my head. “Thank you very much, Sergeant. But I doubt the King knows anything about me or my skills as a claw. I assume he asked for the claw assigned to this case.”

Trand frowned. “Well, yes and no. He ordered me to fetch Claw Shinkai. Someone probably informed him that you've been assigned the case. But he knew your name.”

The Dragon King knew my name. Why did that give me such a delicious thrill?

Ridiculous. I wasn't a man controlled by sexual urges or any type of desire.

I had needs like anyone, and I saw to them—sometimes voraciously and always enthusiastically—but I wasn't led by them.

Thus, the thrill down my spine was merely a precursor to trepidation.

The Dragon King already ruled me—he didn't need more leverage. I decided not to give it to him.

Just as I engraved that decision into my mind, our carriage rolled past the castle gates and into the courtyard.

Trand was out before it came to a complete stop, then held the door open for me.

I climbed out, straightened my coat, smoothed my hair, and looked around.

The Sergeant made for the main steps. I remained where I was, taking in the extra guards on the walls.

No, I didn't give a shit about the grandeur of the castle keep.

I'd seen it before. But an increase in the amount of soldiers guarding that keep?

Now, that was enough to warrant a careful examination.

Trand reached the landing and finally looked back. He scowled. “Claw Shinkai?”

I nodded and climbed the steps. Then I met his stare. “When was the command given to double the guards on duty?”

Trand flinched.

“That long?” My brows went up again. “So, he knew.”

Trand cleared his throat. “Knew what?”

“Don't be coy. I've proven what I'm capable of. The King knew a murder was imminent. Why weren't we warned?”

“I don't know what the King knew. All I can say is that the Commander doubled the guard a week ago. We weren't told why.”

“I just told you why.” I sighed and waved him into the castle. “Very well, Sergeant. Take me to the King. He can answer my questions, I'm sure.”

“I'd be careful with the King if I were you. Dragons don't take kindly to observation or interrogation.”

“Noted.” I waved him forward.

Shaking his head, Sergeant Trand led me into the Royal Castle of Rushao.

I clasped my hands behind my back and followed him, gaze forward but with attention everywhere.

I missed nothing. Not the courtiers whispering in the rooms we passed or the servants cleaning with trembling hands and darting stares.

The castle was in an uproar, albeit a silent one.

The King may think that he'd kept his concerns quiet, but if he did, he'd be wrong.

Noticing the extra guards may have been insightful of me, but these were the people who lived and worked in the castle.

They knew how many soldiers walked the walls.

It would be impossible not to notice if that number had doubled.

And any moron could deduce that a double watch was not a good omen.

With this behavior observed, I turned my focus halfway inward.

A Chelli man. Burned to a skeleton. And the Dragon King of Rushao.

What did they have in common? What was the connection?

Maybe I was putting too much thought into this.

I should leave my pondering until later. After I had more information.

Just as I decided this, Trand stopped before a lifter panel guarded by two Dragon knights. They looked at Trand, then at me, and stepped aside. One of them even pushed the button for us.

The panel opened, revealing the lifter compartment.

I went to the back and turned to face forward, noting the spaciousness.

Most lift compartments were much smaller.

But this one was made for Dragons—a race comparable to the Ricarri in stature, if not larger.

On top of that, I concluded that this was His Majesty's private lifter.

There wouldn't be Dragons guarding a public one.

A panel in the lifter wall offered a selection of buttons but not as many as I expected.

The options included 20 through 24. Trand pushed the button marked 22.

We surged upward toward the 22 nd floor.

So, not only was I to meet with the King, but I was also to enter the royal apartments.

The 22 nd floor. Why there? I concluded it was where he conducted private meetings. Interesting.

We came to a stop. A subtle whoosh came as the panel slid open.

Clenching his hands, Trand stepped out. I paused, watching him approach yet another two Dragons.

Seemed excessive to me to have four Dragon knights on duty.

One would have done the trick. These two stood across the room from me, and to either side of a door.

After they nodded at Trand, I stepped out of the lifter.

Hands still behind my back, I strode across the King's library.

An interesting choice for an entry room.

Passing long tables and freestanding bookshelves, I glanced at the titles on the spines.

Books on geography, farming, and masonry mingled with fictional stories.

I couldn't guess the personality of the owner yet.

I'd need a little longer with the books to be sure.

But upon first glance, such a diverse selection implied a curious mind and a healthy intellect.

This king was no fool. Perhaps that was the purpose of making his guest traverse his library.

It was his way of pointing out that he was not a man to be taken advantage of.

I stopped beside Sergeant Trand and looked from knight to knight.

“Only him.” The Dragon to the left of the door jerked his chin at me.

Trand showed no reaction—only offered me a hand. “Good luck, Claw Shinkai.”

I shook his hand. “Tell your daughter to brush her kitten daily. That will help with the shedding.”

“Thanks. I will.” Chuckling, he went back to the lifter.

Meanwhile, the knight on the right opened the door.

The room beyond was bright, almost to the point of blinding me after the semi-darkness of the library.

I blinked as I stepped through the doorway, not at my most observant.

Still, it was impossible to miss the hulking form of the Dragon King, seated not on a throne but on a normal leather chair behind a desk.

I veered toward him as my peripheral vision took stock of the room.

More shelves here, but these held documents in wooden boxes and leather folders.

The seating was all covered in burgundy leather, the walls were forest green, and the ceilings were coffered in mahogany.

Such a dark color palette, and yet the room felt airy.

The glass doors—currently open to let in fresh air from the balcony—and the tall windows contributed to that.