Page 87 of Dragon’s Ending

“Hey,” Dominic said, somehow steering them away from the front door. “This one’s important. If you go off course even slightly, you might be seen. And that’s without the likelihood of you suddenly deciding you need another beer and landing in the centre of Cardiff.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Rhys protested. “Cardiff’s miles away.”

“You probably would,” Dominic said. “But listen, it’s not worth the risk. Nothing’s worth the risk of getting dragons discovered. It’d change life for every single dragon and not for the better. Go watch some rugby instead—there’s the Australia match on in a few hours.”

“Oh my God, how did I forget?” Rhys looked at Dominic in absolute horror, then turned on Dafydd. “Why didn’t you remind me?”

But Dafydd was already halfway up the stairs, as if Dominic’s words had given him wings in human form.

“Fucking hell, Dafydd,” Rhys said, and bolted after him.

The house fell blissfully quiet after that. For a moment, only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the fading sound of Rhys thundering up the staircase disturbed the silence.

Dominic sighed beside me. “Honestly. Herding dragons is exhausting.”

And that was when I realised Rhodri was standing in the doorway to the study.

I had no idea how long he’d been there. The light from the study fell across one side of his face, leaving the other in shadow.

Dominic went still beside me.

For one awful moment, I thought this was it. Judgement finally delivered.

But Rhodri only looked at Dominic for a long second. Then he gave the slightest nod.

“Goodnight,” he said.

And turned back into the study, closing the door behind him.

Neither of us moved for a moment.

“Well,” I said eventually.

Dominic was still staring at the study door like he suspected it might reopen and unleash catastrophe after all.

“I think your father just acknowledged your existence.”

“That was probably a muscle spasm.”

I laughed softly. “No, seriously. He saw what you did.”

Dominic glanced sideways at me. “Persuaded two drunk muppets not to fly to Cardiff?”

“He saw you handling them.” I hesitated. “Looking after them.”

Dominic looked away almost immediately, shoulders tightening. “He probably thinks I got them drunk in the first place,” he muttered.

I raised my eyebrows.

A reluctant smile tugged briefly at his mouth. “Okay, I sort of did.”

“So how many times did you drunkenly try to fly to Cardiff?” I asked as we headed up the stairs.

He cast me a wounded look, all big, innocent eyes and a hand clasped dramatically to his unfairly accused chest.

“Three,” he admitted.

Yeah. That sounded about right.