Abia’s brow is perfectly straight, her expression serene. “No,” she says simply, quietly, yet the power in the single word resounds through the chamber.
“We’re here to trade,” Shyan says. “Abia’s not looking for a job.”
“No,” the dragon rasps. “Of course not. You’ve brought the spoils of royal larceny in exchange for common coins.”
Shyan glances at Cang to confirm this, but he’s tracing the tiles with his gaze, trying to find the loosest seam into which one might insert a prybar.
“Well, yeah,” Shyan says to the dragon.
“I love your scales,” Fassn adds.
“The coins, then. Let’s get this done.”
Logan Bright — Works 