Page 4 of Sereis
The ceremony continued. Presence and storm for Zephyron. Presence and wind for Caelus, who couldn't sit still even for this ancient ritual, his cape crackling with nervous energy. Each acknowledgment, each pour, brought me closer to Sereis's austere corner.
My hands started trembling when I was still three thrones away.
He hadn't moved once since taking his position. Hadn't shifted, hadn't gestured, hadn't even blinked that I could see. While other Dragon Lords fidgeted or whispered to their attendants or—in Caelus's case—rearranged their cape twelve different ways, Sereis remained perfectly, impossibly still.
"Lord Sereis," Morgrith intoned, "I acknowledge your presence and your frost."
Twelve steps. My boots silent on the obsidian floor. The pitcher suddenly felt like it weighed as much as the mountain itself.
Pour from the left. I raised the pitcher, and that's when those pale eyes fixed on me.
Not on my hands. Not on the wine. On me.
The look wasn't what I expected from a Dragon Lord. Wasn't dismissive or hungry or cruel. It was . . . curious. Intent. Like I was a book written in a language he'd forgotten he knew how to read.
The wine poured in a perfect arc—muscle memory saving me when my mind went blank. It filled his goblet precisely to the ritual level, not a drop spilled, not a tremor shown.
He wouldn't drink it. Everyone knew Sereis never touched the ceremonial wine, or any food offered at these types of gatherings. But his eyes held mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and in that moment, I forgot how to breathe.
"Lord Morgrith," he said, his voice like distant avalanches, "I acknowledge your presence and your shadow."
I fled to the next position, but I could feel his attention follow me. Not oppressive, not demanding, just . . . there. A cool pressure against my back like standing in front of an open window in winter.
The ceremony continued. Presence and flame for Davoren—and when I poured his wine, the liquid actually steamed. Garruk acknowledging Caelus. Caelus acknowledging Zephyron, though he got distracted halfway through and started talking about revolutionary changes to the acknowledgment formula before Morgrith cleared his throat.
Then came the moment everyone had been dreading.
"Lord Sereis." Davoren's voice could have melted steel. The temperature dropped ten degrees the instant he spoke, and I saw actual frost creeping across the obsidian floor from Sereis's platform.
The two Dragon Lords stared at each other across the vast space. Fire and ice. Rage and stillness. Davoren's golden marks blazed so bright that Kara winced, though she didn't let go of his hand.
"I acknowledge your presence and your frost." Each word came out like Davoren was spitting poison.
The frost spread further. My breath misted in the suddenly arctic air. Some of the servants started shivering, but I couldn't move, couldn't look away from what was happening between these two ancient powers.
Sereis finally moved—just his head, tilting slightly as if considering something. When he spoke, his voice carriedharmonics I hadn't heard before, layers of meaning that made my bones ache.
"Lord Davoren." A pause that stretched like centuries. "I acknowledge your presence and your flame. And I acknowledge the presence of your mate, the Lady Kara, who bears your mark with such . . . fascinating grace."
The hall went silent. Not quiet—silent. Even Caelus stopped fidgeting.
You didn't mention mates in the acknowledgment. It wasn't done. The ceremony was about the Dragon Lords alone, their eternal dance of power and territory. To include Kara was . . .
I didn't know what it was, but judging by the way several Dragon Lords shifted uneasily, it meant something. Something significant.
Kara herself straightened, those golden marks flaring brighter. She met Sereis's gaze without flinching, and something passed between them—not hostility exactly, but . . . recognition? Like two people realizing they were playing the same game.
"How kind of you to notice," she said, her voice carrying despite speaking softly. "Lord Sereis."
Another violation of protocol. Mates weren’t meant to speak during the acknowledgments. But this was the first time in history that a Dragon Lord had found his mate. And Davoren's hand covered hers, his marks pulsing with what looked almost like pride.
Sereis inclined his head—the most movement I'd seen from him yet. "Kindness has little to do with it, Lady Kara. Merely observation."
The frost retreated as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only damp spots on the obsidian. The temperature returned to normal, but the tension remained, crackling between the platforms like Caelus's cape.
I poured the remaining acknowledgments in a daze. My hands moved through the proper motions, but my mind kept circling back to that moment—Sereis's eyes on mine, the curiosity there, the unexpected warmth beneath all that ice.
When the ceremony finally ended, hours later, my feet ached and my arms trembled from holding the pitcher. But as I followed Tam back to prepare for the feast, I risked one glance back.
