Aiden's Exile: Book one of The Storm of Scale
an excerpt

The tower beckoned, late in the Harvest night. Aiden made one last check of Aniis's chambers, gentle pads of leathery feet scratching on the fluffy rug that the Princess professed to dislike, but refused to have replaced. His smooth-scaled neck craned in the direction of the canopied bed, velvet curtains thrown back to let the moonlight caress the sleeper's fair skin. Tousled bark-brown hair spread across the sparse pillows, and fetchingly covered one closed eye as the princess, now heir, slept in the dark of night.

Satisfied that his charge would not stir for the hours until his next check, a single claw slid back a well-oiled panel in the main chamber door. Quiet though it was, the guard on duty heard, and his back pressed against the stone of the hall next to the door with a quiet scrape. Turning his head only a fraction, keeping the cornered hall fully in view as he spoke quietly to the open panel. "Is all well with the night, Der Drakkan?"

An amused snort ruffled the corner of Grelin's cloak. "I knew there was a reason you were assigned to these watches. I'm up to the near tower until the next sweep. Relay to Nek as he passes." The panel slid closed as Grelin brought a silent fist to his heart, and Aiden crept to the double windows in the princesses' drawing room. Easing the well-oiled panes of leaded glass and ironwood shutter open, the dragon swung deftly out over the courtyard below, clinging to the angled corner of the keep wall with three hands of claws and both wings, all gleaming darkly in the three quarter moon. After closing the window with a click, and a brief rattle to ensure it was sealed behind him. Stretching each of his six limbs in turn, claws probing into the smallest of crack in the well-fit granite of Camelot Keep, Aiden der Drakkan, Dragon Captain of the Heir's Guard, scaled to the crenelations of the Heir's Tower.

Reaching sparsely fleshed wings along the outside of the corner merlon, Aiden pulled himself up with a small grunt of effort and stopped, hanging, as his snout encountered resistance of a sharp variety.

"Kill."

"Vaxenar, the Heir's Tower is not part of your night's patrol path. If I find you switched with Erdin again, I'll have you both on garderobe trap cleaning so fast you'll leave your helmet behind."

"Not Erdin, Drakkan. Hargathsson."

Sighing, Aiden eyeballed the gleam-absorbing, yet obviously shar, spearhead angled at his left eye. "Fine. Double beer fund on next Leaveday, and you buy Hargathsson at least two rounds. Now move this weapon so I can get my scaly ass off of this wall, or I'll kick you off the tower."

Grinning, Vaxenar stepped back a few healthy paces, and snapped his spear to parade rest with a silent fist held over his heart. "I hear and obey, Drakkan. Est ka Frek der Muninn granst Huginnar." May the Tree of Memory grow from your thought.

Turning smartly on his soft leather boot, the Vinlander moved onward on his patrol as his Captain gazed thoughtfully at his back while cresting the tower's top.

These Vinlanders might be warriors to the bone, but I'll be damned if they aren't as much trouble as they are valued...and just about too damn smart for their own good.