“You’re visiting?” Carla asked, curiosity rising. “From where, may I ask?”
“India. I saw the interview with your king and consort on TV.”
“Ahhh. We’ve had many people saying the same thing. Really, that interview has become something of a godsend.” Carla rolled her eyes toward Ravi meaningfully. “Even if the reason for it wasn’t planned.”
Ravi’s smile was bright enough to be a deflective shield. “Now, now, all’s well that ends well. That’s how the saying goes, right?”
“You are such a troll.” Shaking her head, Carla dismissed him. “Sora, I’d love to sit and chat with you, swap stories and magic. We haven’t had a good magic chat with another mage in ages. Make sure that Ravi shows you where the dining hall is; that’s where we all congregate to eat our meals. And if you see me there, come and join me.”
Sora was surprised at this friendly gesture. She wasn’t the first to make such an overture, but still, it surprised him. Was every person in this clan so nice? And still, she didn’t ask more than where he’d come from. Not one person demanded answers of him. It was very different from what Sora had expected. In their shoes, he’d certainly be asking more questions.
“Thank you, I will.”
“I’d talk more, but they’re waiting on the bottles. I better get back to work. Swing by our potions workroom later, if you’d care to join us.” Carla gave him another smile before fetching her box again. As an afterthought, she threw over her shoulder, “And, Ravi, don’t get him into trouble!”
“Perish the thought!” Ravi responded gleefully.
Carla’s expression did not indicate trust. For that matter, Sora didn’t trust that smile on Ravi’s face. He was such a typical wind dragon in this sense—mischief was fun.
It wasn’t just that, either. Ravi, superficially, looked very much like his own kind. His features were distinctly Middle Eastern, the dark hair in loose, short curls around his head, his brown eyes wide and too innocent. Sora found his eyes lingering on Ravi more often than the castle he was touring. Part of it was that Ravi was just so fun to watch. He was like a circus entertainer, constantly in the middle of some extravagant gesture and laughing remark. His beauty was part of it, certainly, as he was a very handsome man and Sora wasn’t oblivious to that. But that wasn’t why his eyes followed Ravi around.
Ravi caught his hand again, the touch light but confident, tugging him gently forward before releasing. “This way, the greenhouse is through those doors. The place is awesome.”
He did that often. Sora wasn’t used to people casually touching him like this. He could tell Ravi didn’t really mean anything by it. He just liked Sora, and it was in his nature to be touchy-feely, so he reached out. But for Sora, the touch was nice. His skin tingled a little where Ravi had touched him. He wanted Ravi to do that more. To let the touch linger.
His own reaction surprised him. Sora wasn’t normally the one who initiated getting into another person’s space. But somehow, Ravi broke the norm on this. He wanted the wind dragon closer. The next time Ravi grasped his hand, would it be strange if he held on?
It probably would be strange. Dammit.
For that matter, it was strange that Sora wanted to hold hands. He’d only known this man for a few hours, so why…?
Sora had no time to really think about why he liked Ravi’s touch because Ravi burst through the doors that led to an outdoor area like a whirling dervish.
The greenhouse was nice, the glass structure dominating the courtyard area, and it had obviously been very lovingly kept up. But it was also rather…small? Especially for a clan’s use. Surely this wasn’t the only greenhouse.
Ravi popped open the door, ushering him inside. “I have to tell you, this place is awesome during the winter. I take naps in here because it’s so warm. Unlike the fire dragons in this clan, snow is not my friend.”
“That’s your excuse for being a heat-seeker?” an amused voice called out to him. “And who are you showing around, anyway?”
“A new friend.”
The other person came into view, a wand in one hand. He wasn’t very tall, grey eyes penetratingly sharp, with a rugged sort of look to him. The mage had smears of dirt and green against his jeans and wife beater shirt, so he’d clearly been hard at work when they’d interrupted him.