At midmorning, his secretary Sedric had visited her study, to ask if any vital invitations were still pending, and to inquire if any other important missives had arrived during the master’s absence. Sedric had spoken formally, but smiled as he did so, and after a moment his good nature and charm had forced her to return that courtesy. As annoyed as she was with Hest, she would not take it out on his secretary. Sedric had that effect on most people. Although he was only a couple of years younger than Hest and older than Alise, she could not help thinking of him as a boy. It wasn’t only that she’d known him since childhood when she and his sister Sophie had been close friends. Even though he was older than both of them, they had still treated him as if he were younger, for so he had always seemed to Alise. There was a gentleness to him that she’d never seen in other men. He’d always been willing to pause in his day and listen to their girlish concerns. Such attention from an older boy had been flattering.

He was, she reflected, still a favorite with her. His attentiveness and interest in her conversation at meals often eased the sting of Hest’s near contempt for her thoughts. Not only Sedric’s manner but his appearance was always charming. His head of gleaming brown curls was perpetually tousled in an artlessly perfect way. His eyes were always bright, never showing the effects of a late night spent accompanying his master to whatever gambling parlor or theater Hest’s latest merchant partner favored. No matter how short the notice, Sedric was always able to rise to the occasion, appearing impeccably clad and groomed and yet still retaining an easy manner that suggested it was effortless for him.

Alise had long since ceased to wonder why Hest made Sedric his constant companion. In any social situation, the man was an asset. Born of Trader stock himself, he moved easily in Bingtown society and with acumen when Hest was dealing with his trading partners. There had been a flurry of gossip when Hest had offered Sedric a position as his secretary; it was obviously beneath his perceived social position, no matter how poor his family had become. Alise had been a bit startled when Sedric accepted it. But in the years since then all had come to see that he was far more than a humble servant. He had proven himself as an excellent secretary to Hest and certainly as an affable and entertaining comrade on the long sea trips that Hest had to undertake yearly. He advised and assisted Hest in matters of dress and grooming. When Hest’s sometimes abrupt manner gave offense or cooled a budding business relationship, Sedric artfully employed his tact and charm to set things to rights.

And when Hest was home, Sedric’s affable presence at her table was something that Alise greatly enjoyed. He excelled at all social occasions from dinners to cards to long afternoon teas. As she was prone to be a listener rather than a talker, Sedric enlivened their meals with his jests, wry observations of their latest travel disasters, and gentle harrying of Hest. Sometimes it seemed to her that it was only due to Sedric that she knew her husband at all.

Did she know him at all? She watched Hest now as he smiled distantly at her, so certain that he could postpone this discussion with her. Well they both knew that if he could procrastinate long enough, he’d be off on one of his trading trips again and she’d once more be left behind at home. She firmed her courage and replied to him, “Perhaps you have forgotten that you promised me that one day I should visit the Rain Wilds and see dragons for myself. But I have not forgotten your promise.”

“Nor outgrown your desire for it?” he asked her gently.

She flinched at the barb, wondering, as she frequently did, if he was aware of how often his words stung her. “Outgrown?” she asked him quietly, her voice going wooden.

He came back into the room. He had not entered it in search of her. Rather, he had come in quietly, selected a book from the shelves, and attempted to leave just as covertly. He could walk so softly. If she had not chanced to lift her head, she would never have known he’d been there. Her words had detained him just as he’d stepped outside the door. Now he closed it firmly behind him. The book he’d chosen was still in his hands. It was an expensive one, she noted, bound in the new way. He turned it gently as he mused over her question.

“Well, my dear, you know that times have changed. Dragons were quite fashionable the year we were wed, but that was five years ago. Tintaglia had only recently appeared, and Bingtown was just emerging from the ashes, so to speak. Talk of dragons and Elderlings and new treasure cities as well as our independence from Jamaillia—well, it was a heady mix, was it not? All the ladies in their Elderling cosmetics and every fabric patterned to look like scales! It was no wonder dragons fired your imagination. You’d come of age in a harsh time in Bingtown. You needed to escape reality, and what could be a better fantasy than tales of Elderlings and dragons? Trade was in a shambles with the New Traders and their slave labor undercutting all our established ways. Your family fortunes were suffering. And then we had a war. If Tintaglia hadn’t appeared and come to our aid, well, I think we’d all be speaking Chalcedean now. And then she locked us into that bargain that we’d help her serpents get up the river and tend the new dragons when they hatched. Well, we certainly discovered that the reality of a dragon was far different from any fantasy you might have imagined.”