Maeve
I manage to make it outside. Clinging to Nael‘s arm like it is a life raft. We have been stopped by what feels like a hundred people. And the dragon prince’s rigid posture is starting to freak me out. His eyes changed color back to the dark shade of green and only occasionally seem to flicker orange. But that could also just be me imagining things.
I’m definitely not imagining that Nael is weirdly quiet, though—way more reserved and less sovereign. When people come up to us, he greets them with a curt nod and exchanges about two sentences worth of pleasantries, and then he just leaves it to me to finish the conversation.
After the 10th person, I got the hang of it. The blush of my cheeks reduced, and I didn‘t stutter when making small talk.
This is still hell. And I wish I coul
