Page 35 of Dragon’s Ending

“One for the road, Dad?” Heath suggested in his father’s direction.

Robin moved into the bar, removing his long, black coat as he did. “You’re buying.”

Heath rolled his eyes at his father but grinned, because he’d got what he wanted. “You good?” he asked, gesturing to us, then his eyes fell to my orange juice and I saw him actually bite his lip to stop himself ripping the shit out of me in front of Rhodri.

“We’re fine, thank you.” Rhodri spoke to Heath, but his eyes were on Robin.

Taking that as my cue, I went to the bar with Heath. I hoped Rhodri would realise I was being tactful by taking myself away from the two heads of family, but he’d be more likely to think I was going there to tip a pint of vodka into my orange juice.

I glanced back to see Robin had taken my chair and they were talking in low voices. Probably wanting to compare notes on Mortimer without giving anything away to one another. This was my chance to dig, I realised.

“You know what Mortimer wants with us?” I asked, hitching a hip onto a bar stool.

Heath’s blue eyes seemed sincere on my face. “Not a sodding clue. The only thing I did pick up is that he’s a cunning old bastard. Powerful, too.” He shivered slightly, and though he’d done it for effect, there seemed to be something there that wasn’t just for show.

A member of staff crossed the room on hushed feet and spoke in a low voice to Rhodri. He stood, and I instantly abandoned my conversation with Heath to follow him out of the room and across the lobby to a private sitting room.

An elderly dragon rose from his chair to meet us, and I had to work harder than I’d ever done to keep my dragon from surging to the surface and showing in my eyes. This man was a threat, pure and simple. Oh, he looked perfectly civilised, in a beautiful dark suit with the suggestion of gold cufflinks visible and a silk pocket square that matched his sober tie, but there was no mistaking the aura of power and savagery under the exquisite tailoring.

It made sense why this man was the leader of all the dragons. I couldn’t imagine anyone ever standing against him in anything. And that was without the fact he was so damn influential in the human world that his face was already familiar to me from the news.

He offered his hand to my father with a wintry smile. “Rhodri, good to see you again.”

Then he looked at me, delaying for an instant before extending his hand. Summing me up and letting me know he was doing so. At that moment, something in me settled. This was familiar ground—being judged, and always, always found wanting. Well, he’d find out soon enough that I didn’t care about his opinion of me.

“How do you do,” he said. “I’m Abimelech Mortimer.”

“Dominic Bedwyr,” I supplied. Our handshake was brief, and I gleaned nothing from it other than his surprising wiry strength. He must be around ninety years old, but he stood and moved as if even age and gravity were under his control.

“Have a seat. Tea?”

Rhodri accepted, and I found myself nodding because it appeared to be the expected response. The member of staff who’d shown us to the room disappeared out of the door, there was the murmur of voices outside, and he came back in bearing a tray with china cups and teapot.

I admired Mortimer’s efficiency in lining things up so that we didn’t have to worry about being interrupted by humans later, when discussing dragon business. I also felt the offer of tea had been a test of some kind, but I had no idea what kind of test it could possibly be. Maybe to check how civilised we were. We were Welsh, after all, and I knew how some of the English viewed us.

After pouring the tea and handing it round, the staff member disappeared, leaving just the three of us in the room. I sipped my tea, aware of my father doing the same, both trying not to show our unease. Which was undoubtedly very obvious despite our best efforts, and not helped by the fact I didn’t even like tea. Still, drinking it gave me something to do, and it hadn’t seemed like a good idea to decline anything Mortimer offered. Not yet, not until I knew what he was after.

“So, Dominic,” Mortimer said. “I’ve been talking to your father and other heads of family about the future for all of us. How we can’t risk repeating the mistakes of the past.”

Of families locked in combat, of rupture and hatred, sowing the seeds of mistrust that were now bearing rampant fruit. Exhibit one: the way we were watching Mortimer, waiting for him to spring a trap.

I tried to keep an open mind, though something was crawling up the back of my neck each time I looked at him. Once I’d put my teacup down, my right hand had formed a fist, clenching hard around my ring. What had I been thinking, bringing part of my treasure this close to a predator?

It was becoming harder and harder to keep my dragon in check, to stop him from showing in my eyes. But as well as that sounding like a really bad idea when facing Abimelech Mortimer, I knew it would be the final straw for my father. I’d be banished, with no hope of ever returning to the family, let alone leading it.

“As you know, families have recently begun experimenting by mixing with previously unknown families,” he said. “My grandson first proposed this to me, and I understand his suggestion has been welcomed by many of his generation. Hence my request to speak with you and hear your thoughts on the matter.”

Two things were immediately clear to me. First, I mustn’t betray that I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. If he thought there was weakness in our leadership structure, we’d be sitting ducks. And whatever my father was as head of family, he wasn’t weak. I knew he’d protect us. God knew, he did it every day by refusing to let me take my role as heir. I was also sure that Abimelech didn’t care about my opinion. So why was he asking?

For once, I thought before opening my mouth, aware of Rhodri’s tension beside me. Also aware of the fact he hadn’t jumped in to direct the conversation away from me, underlining just how much power Abimelech held.

“I think it’d be best discussed at another Moot, openly between all families,” I said. “It’s almost irrelevant what a single person thinks. It’s the majority opinion that matters.”

“Yet the majority rarely want change. It’s the agitators, the activists who drive it through. And in time, almost everyone adapts, with no recollection they were ever against it.”

A hint of amusement crossed his face as he looked at me. As if I were simply young and naïve.

“But we’re not talking about changing a piece of legislation,” I pointed out. “This is more intangible, and highly personal. We want people to trust one another, to work against their own nature. Change has to be driven, sure, but it can’t be imposed if we want to change attitudes rather than simply ensure compliance.”