Chapter Eleven
Urien
I have to get this right. Urien stood in his garden at half-past five in the morning, debating between the Cherokee Purple tomatoes and the Brandywines.
Both were at the peak of ripeness. He’d coaxed them through late frosts and an aphid invasion, and fertilized them with his own carefully balanced compost mixture.
His dragon hummed approval. Treasure will love them.
“The Brandywines,” Urien decided, selecting three of the finest specimens. Not too many - he didn’t want to overwhelm Sam. He wanted to provide just enough to show care and attention, with elements he’d grown personally from seeds.
He moved through the garden, gathering herbs he’d started from cuttings last spring. Basil - the irony wasn’t lost on him - with leaves so green they looked painted, thyme that smelled like sunshine, and rosemary branches thick enough to last weeks.
The zucchinis practically glowed in the dawn light, their skins blemish-free. Urien selected two medium ones, just enough for a single person’s meals.
Our mate, his dragon, corrected. Not single. Ours.
“He doesn’t know that yet,” Urien muttered, adding rainbow chard to the basket. The stems ranged from deep magenta to brilliant gold, and to him, looked just as pretty as the flowers he’d given when Urien first introduced himself.
One of the things Urien noticed – while he was admittedly watching Sam cook through the kitchen window - was that Sam used fresh vegetables, and that when he was preparing them, he seemed to chop them carefully, implying Sam wasn’t someone who relied on frozen meals or takeaway.
Which means this gift will show I’ve paid attention to what you actually like and need… At least Urien hoped so.
He arranged everything in a handmade willow basket - it was something he enjoyed doing on long winter nights. The produce looked stunning, artistic. He smiled quietly as he thought, a painting of plenty. Urien’s heart stone flared.
He drove the Range Rover through empty streets – understandable when most people in town were still sleeping. Urien had already decided it was better to be early. That way, there would be fewer witnesses to his extremely questionable decision to show up at Sam’s cottage before six in the morning.
“This is romantic, not creepy,” he told his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Farmers deliver produce early all the time.”
The front garden of Sam’s cottage was wild with flowers that Sam clearly didn’t tend but looked charming anyway. Urien parked at the curb and killed the engine, looking at the basket on the passenger seat.
His dragon pushed at him. Go. Leave the offering. Show our Treasure we can provide.
“Right.” Urien grabbed the basket and stepped out into the cold morning air.
The street was silent except for birdsong. Sam’s windows were dark - of course they were, it wasn’t even six yet. Urien made sure to keep his footsteps quiet as he walked up the short path to Sam’s door, basket in hand, and heart hammering against his ribs.
He planned to leave it on the doorstep. That was the simplest way. Urien wondered if he should’ve written a note, but he didn’t have a way with words, and didn’t have a clue what to say. Thought you might enjoy these? Or, From an admirer?
His dragon growled. No notes. Actions speak louder. The quality of the vegetables will show our worth.
Urien reached the door and knelt to set the basket down gently. As he did, he noticed a curtain twitch in the front window, and he froze. Seconds later, the front door opened.
Urien stared up at him, his willow basket still clutched in both hands.
“Urien?” Sam’s voice was rough, as though he hadn’t had his first coffee yet. He wore soft flannel pajama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt with a faded book cover on the front. His hair was still messy, and he blinked behind smudged glasses as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Beautiful, Urien’s dragon purred.
“I brought vegetables.” The words tumbled out. “From my garden. I thought…you might…”
“You grew these?” Sam crouched down, peering into the basket. His face transformed when he smiled. “These tomatoes are gorgeous. And this chard - I’ve never seen colors like that.”
The genuine delight in Sam’s voice made Urien’s heart stone pulse so hard he nearly gasped.
“The Brandywines took months.” Urien found his feet, stood carefully so he wouldn’t loom. “The soil here is too acidic, so I had to amend it. And the chard - rainbow variety. The stems are sweet if you sauté them separately from the leaves.”
“You really grew all this yourself?”
“I have a large garden…at my estate, with Mabon and Rux.” Urien gripped the basket handle. “We have more land than we know what to do with, honestly, and I like growing things, so…”
“That is so sweet of you. Would you like to come in?” Sam straightened and smiled. “For tea? It’s chilly out here, and it looks like you brought me half your garden. The least I can do is make you breakfast.”
Urien’s dragon went very, very still. Inside our Treasure’s home?
“I don’t want to impose…”
“You’re not.” Sam stepped back and held the door wide. “Besides, I want to know how to cook that chard properly. I’ve never worked with it before.”
Letting out a long breath, Urien crossed the threshold, looking around as Sam closed the door behind him.
The front room was comfortable, with overstuffed furniture, mismatched lamps, and shelves crammed with paperbacks.
A laptop sat closed on the coffee table, and there was a blanket wadded up on the sofa.
“The kitchen’s through here.” Sam padded ahead in bare feet. “I’m sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company at - what time is it?”
“Six.” Urien winced. “I should have waited. This was…”
“Kind,” Sam interrupted, setting the basket on a little wooden table. “Weird timing, maybe, but kind.”
The kitchen was tiny with cheerful yellow walls and open shelving displaying chipped mugs and mismatched plates.
A window over the sink overlooked the wild front garden.
Evidence of Sam was everywhere - a shopping list magnetically stuck to the fridge, a single coffee mug in the dish drainer, cookbooks stacked haphazardly beside the stove.
Urien’s dragon settled in his chest with a contented rumble.
This is right, being in our Treasure’s home, while he makes us tea.
“Sit, sit.” Sam gestured to one of two chairs tucked under the table. “I’ve got Earl Grey or English Breakfast. Or coffee, if you want - although after watching Rux drink six cups in twenty minutes that one time, I’m worried about enabling you lot.”
“Tea will be lovely.” Urien sat and watched Sam fill an electric kettle. “Rux told us about that. We’ve been - trying to figure out how to…”
“Make friends in Dinetell?” Sam pulled two mugs from the shelf. “Urien, you don’t have to try so hard. Just be normal. You know, like this. Showing up with vegetables at dawn.”
“I’m not sure that’s not normal.”
“It’s more normal than six coffees.” Sam grinned over his shoulder. “Or Mabon’s hundred-dollar tips. Or calling my drink choice basic.”
“He feels terrible about that.”
“I know.” Sam’s expression softened. “He came back the next day and apologized three times.”
The kettle clicked off. Sam poured water over the tea bags, added milk to one mug without asking if Urien wanted it.
“Here.” Sam set the mug in front of him and sat down with his own. Their knees almost touched under the table.
Urien wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic and tried to remember how to breathe normally. I must not mess this up.
“So the tomatoes,” Sam said, cradling his mug. “What’s the secret? Mine always split.”
“Inconsistent watering.” Urien relaxed slightly, grateful for a familiar topic. “People water too much after letting the soil dry out. The fruit swells too fast, and the skin can’t keep up.”
“That’s exactly what I do.” Sam grimaced. “I forget for three days, feel guilty, and then drown them.”
“Dragon fruit…” Urien caught himself. “I mean, heirloom varieties especially need steady moisture. Not wet, just consistent watering... And calcium helps with the cell walls.”
“Do you mean like crushed eggshells?”
“Or bone meal mixed into the soil before planting.” Urien found himself leaning forward. “The Brandywines are worth the effort, though. They are the best flavor of any tomato I’ve grown.”
“They’re beautiful.” Sam glanced at the basket. “Almost too pretty to eat.”
“They’re meant to be eaten.” Urien’s dragon purred at the thought of Sam enjoying something he’d grown. “Maybe with fresh mozzarella, basil…”
A soft thump from the doorway made Urien look up. A massive tabby cat stood frozen in the threshold, his tail swishing slowly and very deliberately. The cat’s green eyes locked onto Urien.
Oh, no.
“There you are.” Sam twisted in his chair. “Basil, come meet…”
The cat was not impressed to see his human had company. Every hair on his body stood straight up, transforming him from a round tabby into a bristling puffball twice his normal size. A hiss started low in his chest.
“Basil?” Sam seemed confused. “What’s wrong with you?”
Urien went very still. He knew that sound and understood the reaction. Animals could sense dragons. Most of them avoided any shifter instinctively and gave them a wide berth. But Basil was defending his human and wasn’t likely to back down.
“It’s all right,” Urien said quietly, keeping his gaze away from the cat’s face. “I should go…”
Basil launched himself across the kitchen floor. No warning, no hesitation - just pure feline fury, claws fully extended, yowling like a demon that had escaped from the Underworld.
“Basil!” Sam lunged sideways, trying to catch him, but he was too late.
Twenty pounds of enraged tabby hit Urien’s ankles, and claws sank through denim and sock, piercing skin. Basil wrapped his entire body around Urien’s shin, back legs kicking in a rabbit-punch motion that would have disemboweled a smaller prey.
Urien’s dragon roared to life, furious that something dared attack them. Crush it. Defend…
No!