Adwyn knew it was mistaken, but sense was sense.
The schizon-clad drake lighted down on the granite hall like the pupil of Gwymr/Frina. One glance was spared to the male assistant barring the door. Then the adviser scanned the four guards watching.
He smirked, and strode right up to him. “I must speak with Mlaen.” The words came piercing like light, and his studied glare shone upon the assistant.
The other drake could have flinched. He swallowed and said, “She went out looking for you.” He didn’t mean Mlaen.