Origin (Scales N' Spells #1) - A.J. Sherwood Page 0,1

to his home, was as incredible as it was odd. Why now? Why here? Surely it couldn’t be coincidence.

Assuming Ravi was right.

For the young dragon’s sake, he’d better be. Alric really would wring his neck if he’d gotten all of their hopes up for nothing.

Also, fortunately for Ravi, none of the revelers seemed to be paying much attention to them. They were too focused on enjoying the festival to the fullest. Dragon masks—most of them colorful, gaudy, and covered in sequins or glitter—were either on people’s heads or shoved to the side to give the wearer room to eat. People flocked to different stands offering merchandise and souvenirs. Mostly dragon-themed, naturally. The statues and pictures depicting the dragons were a little off, even accounting for artistic license.

Then again, the Dragon War had ended five hundred years ago, and the dragons had disappeared more or less at that time. Old records and depictions were all that modern people had to go off of. It made sense nothing was quite right.

Alric moved through the streets, trying to squeeze between groups of people, Baldewin his dedicated shadow. There was likely no danger here, but the royal bodyguards were not in the habit of letting their king wander around alone outside of the castle. And bodyguards came in handy. Alric may or may not have used his friend’s bulk as a trail blazer. Once or thrice.

He kept the phone to his ear, keeping tabs on people even as he scented the air with every breath. “Lisette, anything?”

His senior mage sounded a little dragony herself in frustration. “We’re getting readings of magic, yes. But there’s so many magical elements in play down there it’s like trying to find a particular drop of water in the ocean.”

“Would it help if I ordered all the dragons back out?”

“No, not really. Frankly, at this point I think you’ve got a better chance than we do of finding her. Our seeking spells just aren’t that accurate unless we have a focus.”

Alric grimly acknowledged this with a grunt. He knew that, all too well.

“I say keep searching. If Ravi’s caught her scent once, surely he can do it ag—”

“FOUND HIM!”

Alric’s head snapped up and in the direction he could hear Ravi. He’d been loud enough that even above the din the crowd was making he still heard the man’s voice. “Where?!”

“Front of Petratschek—excuse me, coming through, move, move, move!”

Alric wasn’t far from there. He and Baldewin moved as one, fighting through the crowd, trying to cross the small square parking lot and to the clinic in question. Even as he fought through the crowd, his mind couldn’t help but question the pronoun. Had Ravi said him? A male mage? It was rare—most mages were females—but not unheard of. Alric didn’t care, gender wasn’t relevant. Just finding a new mage was cause for celebration in and of itself.

It meant magic wasn’t dead after all.

It meant his people had a chance.

Between one heartbeat and the next, he spied Ravi. The little wind dragon was practically glommed onto a taller man, his slender frame vibrating with excitement. With his curly dark hair standing up in interesting angles, and the overwhelming words pouring out of his mouth in frantic German, he probably looked like someone wired…or on drugs.

At least, the man he held onto obviously had that impression. His body language shouted discomfort as he leaned away from Ravi, trying to pull his arm free.

Alric stole a moment to get the man’s measure, to catch his scent for himself before trying to pull Ravi off. The scent was strong, unmistakable—like the sky right before a storm, lightning poised to strike. That kind of charged, power-enriched air couldn’t belong to anyone else but a mage. Ravi was right on that, and Alric owed him an apology for accusing his excitable bodyguard of pranking him.

On the heels of that impression was another Alric hadn’t quite expected: the mage was attractive. He looked of Asian heritage, black hair swept back from his face in a romantic fall that brushed his collar, highlights of brown catching the rays of sunlight, flattering his olive skin. He was taller than Alric, athletic in build, dressed in jeans and a white, form-fitting button-up shirt.

Dragons were, by nature, pansexual. Alric had never really paused and thought about that much, or considered if he had a type. All he’d ever really wanted was a mate, consort, lover, and best friend. If that person came as male, female, non-binary, gender fluid, or something else