Page 66 of Dragon’s Ending

“Well,” I said eventually, “that’s certainly a sentence.”

Ben snorted. And breathing became a little easier.

The morning settled around us almost normally after that. Ben buried himself in records with frightening intensity while I prowled restlessly around the room, occasionally pretending to help while mostly distracting him. Every now and then he’d read out another absurd rent payment, apparently delighted by the existence of medieval administrative nonsense.

At one point he looked up. “A red rose annually in June.”

“Honestly, I’d take that deal.”

“It’s symbolic.”

“I feel people should accept more symbolic payments in general. I could absolutely pay my taxes in vibes.”

Ben looked genuinely affronted. “That is not how taxation works.”

“Smash the system!” I demanded. “Give me liberty or give me death.”

His laugh warmed the part of my gut that had remained stubbornly cold since yesterday. A part that hadn’t relaxed with the rest of me.

I watched him for a moment while he scribbled notes with fierce concentration, sunlight catching warm in his hair. Yesterday hadn’t gone away. It had left a bruise that I wasn’t sure would ever quite heal. But Ben was here. Laughing with me over castrated chickens and impossible rents like none of it had changed what he saw when he looked at me.

Maybe that mattered more than a piece of paper.

“Have you found anything Arthurian yet?” I asked eventually. “Anything Mortimer might want to know about?”

Ben frowned thoughtfully. “Not really. A few scattered references to names that crop up in old legends, but that’s about it. Certainly nothing supporting Mordred as the rightful king.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, though it felt like a pretty good guiding principle to not want whatever Mortimer wanted.

“Evelyn’s mouth gets this weird pinch every time she mentions Mortimer,” Ben continued. “What d’you reckon your father thinks about whatever he’s up to?”

“I think he’s worried,” I said slowly. Rhodri didn’t usually worry about other people. He simply bent them to his will. But when I thought about the conversations we’d had—well, the brief sentences we’d exchanged—and the fact he’d listened to my thoughts about Mortimer, it suggested he was anxious enough to forget his usual opinion of me.

But then, Rhodri had asked me to go with him to visit Anne, where I’d been able to sprinkle charm around to cover for his austereness. And that had nothing to do with Mortimer.

It seemed almost as if he’d changed his mind about me. Yesterday’s record had made it painfully clear what he used to think, but things were different now. The pieces of information he was sharing with me were very carefully selected, of course. Going to wish an elderly member of the family a happy birthday was scarcely worth noticing for most people. But the fact remained, just a few weeks ago, he’d never have included me.

I was beginning to dare to hope this was the start of something new.

Chapter Twenty-seven

BEN

As the days passed, Dominic seemed to shed any lingering effects from reading those reports. At least, he gave no sign that anything had changed. Perhaps, in one sense, it hadn’t. He’d always known he’d been sent away.

I was different, though. I was blindingly angry at Rhodri. I didn’t know who’d compiled those reports, but someone had sat down and made notes, year after year. They’d made a conscious decision to record those words, and then chosen to preserve the record. I suspected Rhodri’s hand at work, because the lack of mercy was striking.

Something else about that record nagged at me in quiet moments. Assessment ongoing. What did that actually mean? Did it explain why Dominic’s role as heir seemed so limited? It seemed less like an observation and more like a label. A justification for what Rhodri wanted to do.

He was still away on his trip visiting other families, and the house was lighter for it. Nothing fundamental had changed, but conversations over supper were easier and more carefree without his presence at the head of the table.

The days slipped past, my time split between discovering new historical records, flying in the dark sky, and nights in Dominic’s bed. And through everything, underpinning everything, was Dominic’s presence. I didn’t know how I’d lived without him. I wanted him more than I’d ever thought I could want anyone. Not just sexually—though God, I couldn’t get enough of him that way. But when we were apart, I missed him. When we were together, I wanted his attention. I wanted him to touch me. That was never actually a problem, because Dominic seemed physically incapable of not touching me for long, and whenever I looked up from my work, I’d find he was watching me.

Over the week of Rhodri’s absence, we’d formed a routine, which included usually managing to make it to the lunch table. Though if Dominic had been particularly distracting, we still occasionally missed it.

On our way to lunch on Friday, we were intercepted in the hall by a very sticky tornado. Teddy had evidently had his meal early.

“Dominic!” he shouted, and Dominic instantly crouched down to listen seriously to whatever Teddy had to tell him.