Page 86 of Dragon’s Ending

“Ray-Banned,” Megan filled in.

“Anyway, he raved about it for some reason and ever since then, it’s been fully booked, but when people get here, they find there’s absolutely nothing to do.”

“Except the locals. Especially Dominic,” Josh put in with a laugh. Then he looked at me, and the horror that filled his face was almost comical. “I mean…”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to rescue that one. Luckily for him, I was aware of Dominic’s reputation. And perhaps I wasn’t the only one, because all three of the newcomers were looking over at him. Or maybe that was just the Dominic Effect. He immediately leaned in and kissed me. Nothing too much for public consumption, but definitely more than a kiss between friends.

“They’re probably going to go looking for the castle tomorrow, and we’ll have to explain again that it’s private land,” Rhys said.

“I still don’t know what people expect to find up there,” Josh complained.

“Ghosts,” Megan said immediately.

“Drugs,” Dafydd countered.

“Dominic chained to a wall reciting poetry,” Rhys suggested.

“That’s only Thursdays,” Dominic said.

I nearly inhaled my beer laughing.

“Anyway,” Josh continued, “there’s barely anything left to see now. They’re a few centuries too late.”

“Tourists in the Middle Ages were just as exhausting,” I said.

That got everyone’s attention for some reason.

“Oh no,” Dominic murmured beside me, sounding delighted. “You’ve activated him.”

“Wait,” Megan said. “Tourists existed back then?”

“I mean, they called themselves pilgrims, but yeah,” I said. “They’d buy cheap souvenirs, visit spas, and everything. Philip the Good’s castle was basically a theme park. He had one particular doorway with a machine that bonked you on the head when you walked through. And then there was the mirror with a notice, ‘If you want to see what you look like covered in flour, look in me’. And,” I said, pausing for a sip of my beer, “people actually fell for it.”

With everyone watching me instead of Dominic for once, I was surprised to find I didn’t mind being the centre of attention. I wasn’t shy, but I wasn’t the kind of person people gathered round to listen to. It was kind of nice, made me feel like I really belonged.

Somehow, we all ended up in a ten-minute-long argument about whether medieval people had been fundamentally more or less gullible than modern ones, during which Dominic contributed absolutely nothing except increasingly outrageous hypothetical examples involving trebuchets.

We left before last orders. Megan and Josh lived in the village, so it was just the four of us heading to the house. As we staggered back, I realised that I’d had fun. Not just a pleasant evening, or a nice time, but I’d laughed so hard at some points that my ribs were going on sympathy strike with Dominic’s bruises.

Dominic joined in the rousing chorus of Puff the Magic Dragon that Dafydd and Rhys had started. His voice was deep and clear in the cold night air, and suddenly I thought of his mother.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re not allowed biscuits in the records room.”

He almost held back his laugh. “Whatever you say, historian.”

“I’m not drunk,” I informed him.

“Clearly,” he said. And started singing again.

But as we made our way up the drive, the singing faded away. No one said anything; it was simply what happened near the house. Near Rhodri.

Dafydd and Rhys were through the front door ahead of us, and then I bumped into Rhys as he came to a complete, sudden standstill. “Flying,” he said, looking at Dafydd. “We need to fly.”

“Oh my God yes,” Dafydd agreed, and turned immediately to leave.

Dominic blocked their way. “No flying when drunk,” he reminded them.

“Rules are nonsensical.” It took Rhys a couple of attempts to get the word out. “You know that.”