Page 37 of Dragon’s Ending

I’d been disappointed, and then I’d been annoyed at myself for being disappointed. I was only disappointed because I’d wanted to fly again, I’d told myself. But even I didn’t believe me.

Thinking about flying brought the unwelcome realisation I still hadn’t fulfilled Evelyn’s request to look at the markings in dragon form. It hadn’t even crossed my mind when I’d flown with Dominic. Flying with him had, apparently, swept all other thoughts out of my head. I still needed to work out who I could ask to go up there with me. Asking Dominic felt like assuming a closeness that wasn’t there, simply because I’d quite like it to be.

My reward for leaving my bed at this godforsaken hour was finding that the dining room was much fuller than previous mornings. Pausing in the doorway for an instant, I took stock of the room. Dominic wasn’t there.

Rhodri sat at the head of the table reading on his phone while occasionally responding to comments from the white-haired dragon to his left. The rest of the family seemed to orient subtly around him, like iron filings around a magnet. It still fascinated me, the sheer force of authority he exerted without visibly trying.

It was also noticeable that no one else had a phone out. They were all expected to have impeccable manners, but Rhodri played by different rules, it seemed. I supposed he could be conducting urgent head-of-family business. Or maybe he was hooked on TikTok.

“Morning, love,” Glenys said, appearing at my elbow with toast before I’d even fully sat down.

“Thank you.”

Teddy, already sticky with jam somehow, waved enthusiastically at me from across the table.

“I found a huge pine cone!”

“Congratulations,” I said.

“It had a spider in it!”

“That’s less congratulations.”

Teddy shook his head fiercely. It appeared I’d misjudged—a pine cone with a passenger was evidently a bonus.

A few people laughed softly, and Teddy looked around and beamed stickily, no doubt glad to share the pine cone joy.

Then Dominic walked in, and my stomach swooped embarrassingly. He looked different this morning. Not quite as careless, and quieter.

His gaze flicked first towards Rhodri. And that tiny movement told me more about Dominic than almost anything else had so far, because the expression on his face, just for an instant? It was longing. Not obvious enough that anyone else in the room would notice it, but then no one else was watching him the way I was.

Rhodri didn’t even look up from his phone, and something behind Dominic’s eyes shuttered as he dropped into his seat and reached for the coffee.

And for the first time, I wondered what it must be like to be Rhodri Bedwyr’s son.

* * *

The records room felt welcoming when I stepped inside and switched on the little heater. The one that Dominic had brought for me.

Dominic had barely looked at anyone during breakfast. He’d drunk a cup of coffee in brooding silence and disappeared again. Something in the way he moved had suggested everyone should leave him alone.

Everything in this room reminded me of him in some way, and I hoped he’d find his way here again today. But if he did, it wouldn’t be for some hours yet, based on the pattern of the last few days.

Belatedly getting a grip on myself, I sat down with my notebook and focused on the sixth century records we’d uncovered. They were frustratingly lacking in detail, but the fact they existed at all was miraculous. They were copies, of course, made centuries later, but I’d been pleased to see how seriously Bedwyrs of generations past had taken their record-keeping. They’d made a copy of each record in Welsh, along with an English translation. Each of these had been signed as accurate by the copier or translator, and then certified by another Bedwyr who’d checked their work.

In the midst of the genealogy pages, there was a random judgement from a twelfth century court case, which took my attention for a while. Until the door opened and Dominic wandered in.

“You’re early.” The words spilled out of me in surprise, and I wished I could bite them back. Nothing like making it obvious I was aware of his comings and goings.

His eyes flicked towards me immediately, and just for an instant, something eased in his face.

“Careful, Berstow,” he drawled, dropping into the other chair and stretching his legs out. His long, leanly muscled legs in jeans that clung. “People might think I’m developing a work ethic.”

“I admit, I was briefly concerned.”

“Don’t worry. I remain fundamentally useless.”

I huffed a laugh despite myself, and he glanced over at the leather-bound novels we’d talked about yesterday. “Find anything out about them?”