Page 5 of Sereis
Sereis was watching me.
Nightfelllikeacurtain of smoke over the Conclave, and with it came the welcome feast—a celebration that felt more like a wake. The great hall blazed with floating fire-spheres that cast dancing shadows across the obsidian walls, and the air hung thick with the scent of roasted meat and mounting tension.
"New pattern!" Caelus announced for the fourth time since the feast began. "Servants should move in figure-eights between the tables! No wait—spirals! Spirals represent the infinite nature of wind!"
Tam shot me a look of pure murder as we adjusted our routes again. My feet already ached from the Introduction Ceremony, and now Caelus had us essentially dancing between the Dragon Lords' tables. The other servants from different households watched with barely concealed pity.
My new circuit included Sereis's table in the far corner, where he sat completely alone.
No attendants. No guests. Just him and an untouched place setting that might as well have been decoration. While Davoren's table overflowed with his mate's guard, while Zephyron held court with merchant princes, while even antisocial Morgrithhad two shadow-cloaked advisors, Sereis occupied his space in perfect isolation.
My hands started trembling three tables away.
"Breathe," Tam murmured as our paths crossed. "He's just another Dragon Lord."
But he wasn't. Something about that stillness, that way he'd looked at me during the ceremony—like he'd seen through the collar and the servant's clothes to something I'd forgotten existed underneath.
The wine pitcher felt slippery in my grip as I approached his table. He wasn't watching me. His pale eyes focused on something in the middle distance, or maybe the middle of time—that thousand-yard stare of immortals who'd seen too much.
I positioned myself at the proper angle, pitcher raised. The wine began its arc toward his goblet—wine he wouldn't drink, food he wouldn't touch, all of this just empty ritual for someone who'd removed himself from physical needs.
"You gave your food to the younger one."
His voice stopped my pour mid-stream. The wine wavered, and I quickly finished filling the goblet before I could spill.
"My lord?"
Those pale eyes shifted to me, and this close, I could see they weren't pure white like I'd thought. There were hints of blue in them, like sky seen through ice, like the deep places in glaciers where light goes to die.
"Earlier. In the servants' quarters." His voice remained quiet, meant only for me. "You gave your bread and cheese to the girl. The new one."
My throat went dry. How could he have seen that? The servants' quarters were three levels down, solid stone between us and the introduction chamber. Unless—
"Compassion is rare in these halls." He said it like he was commenting on the weather, or the wine, or any number ofmeaningless things. But his eyes held mine, and there was something there that made my chest tight.
"She was hungry, my lord."
"Yes." A pause. Then, softer: "And you were not?"
The question hung between us. Such a simple thing, but the way he asked it—like my hunger mattered. Like it was worth noting. No one had asked if I was hungry in three years. Not since the selling.
"I'm used to it." The words came out before I could stop them. Too honest. Too real. You didn't give Dragon Lords pieces of yourself; they took what they wanted anyway.
But Sereis just nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "The ash wastes. You're from the territories around Mount Kerynthos."
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway. "Yes, my lord."
"Harsh lands engender harsh choices." His fingers moved slightly—the first gesture I'd seen him make during the feast. "And yet you choose kindness when you could choose survival. Interesting."
I risked meeting his eyes again and found something there that stopped my breath. Recognition. Like he saw past the collar, past the servant's bent spine and careful words, to whoever I'd been before. Whoever I might still be, underneath.
"If you'll excuse me, my lord." I could barely get the words out. "Other tables—"
"Of course." He inclined his head slightly. "Your . . . what does Lord Caelus call it? Your spiral of infinite wind awaits."
Was that . . . had the Ice Lord just made a joke? About Caelus's ridiculous serving pattern?
I fled before I could do something stupid like smile. But I felt his attention follow me through the rest of my circuit, cool and steady as winter starlight.
