“I can safely say that no one even breathed a hint of it in my schooling.” Tori sounded perturbed by this, and he was blindly staring out the passenger window. “Evora, I think I know the answer, but let me ask anyway. Under the Accords, are male mages discriminated against at all?”
“The Accords make no mention of gender. Nor is gender a consideration at any point. We only judge according to knowledge and skill.” Evora was definitely the hungry wolf waiting for a hunt, now. She looked ready to tear a few throats out. “Tori, I do not like your question.”
“Yeah.” Tori turned, hiding his face a little against Baldewin’s chest. “Yeah, I don’t like it either.”
Baldewin idly wondered if Evora would like a wingman while she took the Taavi Clan on. Pairing up with her to beat sense into them sounded like a lovely way to express his anger. How could anyone be so arrogant as to throw out the Accords, when all they had done was set a law down that kept discrimination from happening?
The ride to the clan’s territory was blessedly short. It kept Baldewin from planning things like going Godzilla on the small fishing town.
They drove up into Taavi territory before Baldewin fully realized they had arrived. Tori had thoroughly described the town and the leaders of the clan, and yet Baldewin was still surprised. There was no town square, no main road to truly speak of. The town was off to the right of the main highway, a two-lane affair. It was nothing more than a handful of businesses, some houses, and nothing else.
Baldewin turned his head, taking in the slight roll and dip of the land, the lack of any real trees, and the green grass spreading as far as the eye could see. They weren’t far from the river, and he could smell moving water, but it was out of sight at the moment. So, this was where Tori had grown up, eh. No wonder he escaped the place. There wasn’t anything here.
“Shit, this place really is ugly,” Tori said on a sigh. “I always kind of suspected, but with Burkhard Castle to compare it to, it’s pretty obvious. Thiago, you’re not going to find a good place to make a stand. See that red house next to the gas station? Pull in there. That’s where the clan leader lives.”
Thiago lifted a walky-talky and relayed this over, as they weren’t in the lead car. Alric radioed back an acknowledgement before the first SUV pulled smoothly into the gas station parking lot. Thiago parked next to him, giving enough space for everyone to open doors and get out, while the third SUV settled on the other side of them.
Tori’s nervousness was clear; he didn’t readily let go of Baldewin. He looked perfectly ready to turn right back around and leave that very second. Baldewin leaned in to kiss him, gentle and sweet. Against his lips, he promised, “I have you.”
There was an answering kiss, just as sweet. “You’re the only reason I have the courage to return here. Just don’t set fire to the place.”
“You’re taking all the fun out of this,” Baldewin accused, mostly to make him smile.
Tori snorted, but he let go and opened the door, cool wind blowing past them. Baldewin followed him out and felt instantly that he’d set foot on enemy territory. And wasn’t that an alarming sensation?
Alric turned and gestured, and Tori went to him, Baldewin following.
“Tori, I think it’s best you knock on the door and announce us.” Alric indicated the red house in question.
“Oh, trust me, she already knows you’re here.” Tori turned and faced the small, single-story house before raising his voice. “Pormestari! Come and meet your guests.”
The door opened with a bang, a short and stocky woman walking out. Stomping out, really, as she made for them.
Mathilda Taavi’s greying hair was in a simple bun at the back of her head, tough jeans and a worn-in work shirt making it clear she had been in the middle of something when interrupted. She shook a finger at Tori as she moved, her voice rough with anger. “You! You dare to leave us and then bring back dragons?!”
Alric stepped forward, smoothly cutting her off before she could reach Tori and forcing her to a halt. His Finnish was impeccable as he introduced himself. “I’m Alric Burkhard, King of the Fire Dragons. With me is Rodrigo Valerii, King of the Ice Dragons, and our retinue. Who might you be, madam?”
She stopped, eyeing him with poorly disguised hostility. “I don’t really care who you are. You’re dragons. I know what you did in the war.”
“You’re entirely wrong in what you know,” Tori said. His voice was firm, shoulders squared. “Everyone in this clan is. When I escaped from here—”