Eno walked over carrying two small plates. He placed one in front of Caelan, the wonderful scent of fresh biscuit, greasy sausage, melted cheese, and egg drifting up to his nose. Eno offered the other to Mio, but she shook her head, so Eno gave it to Adrian instead. “Can you tell us why you were sure Izumi’s home would be attacked?” Eno asked.
Mio locked her eyes on the half-empty cup in front of her. The white porcelain was decorated in swirling blue flowers and seemed about as delicate she did at that moment. “Both Izumi and I run sort of recovery homes for dragons who are kicked out of clans and sent to live in the Chasm,” she answered with a sigh. “When someone is forced out of a clan, they usually have no resources, no understanding of the new life they have fallen into. They’ve lost all contact with their family, have no money, and quite possibly have no job. And even if they have already been forced into service at another clan, they have no understanding of what that means. We give them a place to live for a short time. We help them find employment or teach them about what it means to be a clan servant.”
“You’re giving them protection and critical survival skills to acclimate to their new life,” Rayne said from the stove. “That’s very admirable. I’m sure you’ve saved countless lives.”
“Izumi and I have tried, but there have been many who couldn’t accept their new position in our society. We’ve lost them.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “And then, we are a frequent target of the night raids.”
“Because the other clans see you as helping those who have fallen from grace,” Caelan supplied.
She nodded. “Some can’t accept that a dragon has lost everything but keeps their life. The night raids are permission to kill indiscriminately. Takahashi Masaru claims no one is supposed to be killed in these ‘training exercises’ but he also doesn’t punish anyone when it happens.”
“Barbaric,” Rayne snarled as he handed another plate holding two sandwiches over to Eno. The guard smiled and brushed a light kiss across his cheek as he accepted it. Eno dropped into the last remaining seat at the table and dug into his sandwiches like a starving man. The only person Caelan had ever seen who could keep pace with Eno when it came to eating was Drayce. Caelan had never understood where the man was packing the enormous amounts of food. It made a lot more sense now that he knew Drayce was a dragon.
“It is, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Masaru doesn’t care about the safety of the Chasm. None of the clan leaders have pressed for more security, as they’ve all used the night raids as a way to get rid of enemies.”
“And it would have been the perfect cover to get rid of a certain king,” Adrian said before popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.
“I’m more inclined to believe this was a test of Mio’s and our defenses when it came to Caelan. Also, a chance to see him use his powers,” Rayne speculated from the stove.
“You don’t think they were specifically attacking him?” Eno asked.
Rayne finished putting together his sandwich and carried the plate over to the counter, where he stood facing them. “I don’t. If they really wanted Caelan dead, Masaru would have sent more against us. The effort was mediocre at best. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had been watching from a safe distance to see what happened when we were attacked. The news of Caelan taking out a dragon would have already been carried back to the clan leader.”
Eno hopped up with his plate, one sandwich already devoured. He put his plate by the stove, grabbed Rayne’s plate, and wrapped his arm around Rayne’s waist as he ushed him over to the free seat. Caelan smiled as he watched his advisor flush and sputter. Eno ignored it all as he put the plate on the table and Rayne in the empty seat.
“You cooked,” Eno murmured into his hair as if that were all the reason that was needed.
A mix of longing, jealousy, and envy rippled through Caelan. He wanted that, or at least something similar with Drayce. Not that he thought a simple scene like that would happen between them. Neither he nor Drayce could cook. They were more likely to burn a structure down than make something remotely edible.
But then his mind brought forth a simple memory of all the times Drayce had picked the sugar snap peas from his food and put them on Caelan’s plate because he knew they were Caelan’s favorite. Or the fact that on the rare occasions they picked up fast food, the bag fries were always Drayce’s because his friend lived for potatoes in all forms.