Greenpool was the closest major port to the isles, so it was there that Drachia went, expending quite a bit of energy to telaport herself across the ocean. The trip left her more exhausted than she had hoped, and she resigned herself to having to spend the rest of the night in the city before striking out to follow Tarvick's trail.

She pulled her hood over her horned head as she prowled down the street. It couldn't hide her face from everyone, but Greenpool wasn't Nautilus and Drachia had no intention of dealing with riff-raff who were offended by red scales and ear-frills. 

Just as she was thinking that a meal would be nice and her eyes flitted up and down the street at the menagerie of creaking, poorly-spelled shop signs, a tall figure in a gray robe fell in step beside her.

"So lovely to see you back in Greenpool, my Lady," came a low voice that Drachia recognized right away. "I had just about given up hope that I would ever see you again. You are the sun, and my heart is turned to ice in the shadow of your refusal. Have you come to bring light back into my life?"

She chuckled and turned to look up at the man without breaking her stride. "How dreadful for you, Maximus. Perhaps you should go back to Rhemes. If it's the sun you're pining for I'm sure the desert would do you some good. I don't have time to dally."

The man sighed dramatically. "You wound me. It's as though you haven't gotten any of my letters."

"I did," she retorted with a swish of her tail under the back of her cloak. "All one-hundred and twenty three since the last I saw you. But I am not interested in being your paramour, Maximus..."

She was cut off sharply when he reached for her wrist and pulled her up short, moving in front of her with her wingbones backed up against the stone building behind her.

"You can't deny that we've had good times, Drachia," the affectionate lilt in his voice had vanished and was replaced with something more insistent and desperate. The magus narrowed her eyes and glared up into his.

"I never denied it," she spat back. "But I wont be another pretty flower on your arm at the next royal gala. I have better things to do, Maximus. And you should know better if you think that looming over a half-dragon is going to do anything more than make her angry."

Her face inched closer to him and she stepped forward, forcing him to edge back a step. With a twist of her arm she broke her wrist free of his grip and reversed the hold so that his forearm was bared to her sight, the billowy sleeve of his robe falling back to reveal his chocolaty skin. Skin that was thickly etched with intricate runes. Her cat-like pupils widened and their little lover's quarrel was forgotten in an instant.

"Oh Max! What are these? You're not still dabbling in rune magic are you? You're going to get yourself killed, or worse." Her voice became an urgent hiss. "Is this why you keep begging me to recommend you to the Mage College?"

The dark-skinned man grew shifty eyed and snatched his arm back, folding his hands back into his sleeves. "It's easy for you to be so righteous, dragon. Not all of us were born with magic in our blood."

She shook her head slowly, knowing that nothing she said was going to turn him from the path he was on. They stood in the shadows, glaring at each other to the uncomfortable silence of their differences until Max lifted his hand and stroked his fingers along the outer phalanges of one of her wings. "Stay with me tonight? At least so you don't have to rent a room and eat week-old gristle instead of fresh meat and good wine."

Drachia turned to look north, her eyes following the road out of the city and towards the distant mountains. "I have to leave early. I'm following someone up to the Malcrists."

"Then you should get some rest."

"With you? Somehow I don't think I'll be getting much sleep."

He grinned, and so did she.