Chapter Twenty-Six
Sam
Monday, Rux appeared at the Daily Bean’s side entrance with a wicker basket.
“Lunch,” he announced, as if it were something he did every day. “I promise it’s not seven courses this time.”
Inside, there was a turkey sandwich on fresh-baked bread, cherry tomatoes, and a small container of chocolate mousse. Sam ate in the break room and then texted Rux a photo of the empty containers.
Sam: That was lovely, and the portions just right. No fainting from food overload
Rux: I’m learning restraint
Sam: Thank you
Rux: My dragon is sulking. He wants to feed you constantly
Sam: Tell your dragon I appreciate the offer, but my stomach has limits
/~/~/~/~/
Tuesday, Sam had a late shift, so Urien knocked on Sam’s door at seven in the morning - an almost civilized hour this time - with a tray of seedlings.
“Basil already hates me,” Urien said, eyeing the cat through the window. “I thought we could do something outside.”
They spent two hours in Sam’s tiny backyard plot, Urien’s long fingers demonstrating the proper planting depth for tomatoes. Sam learned about companion planting, how marigolds deterred pests, soil pH, and the difference between determinate and indeterminate varieties.
“You’re a terrible teacher,” Sam said, grinning as he packed dirt around his third seedling.
Urien’s hand stilled. “I’m…”
“Because I want to keep learning. Forever, probably.”
The look on Urien’s face - gods, Sam wanted to kiss him. He didn’t, not yet. He wasn’t that forward. But soon, maybe.
/~/~/~/~/
Wednesday brought Mabon to the coffee shop just before closing, his laptop bag slung over his shoulder and an expression somewhere between apologetic and determined. Sam was in the place alone as it was his turn to lock up, but he was instantly worried about Mabon’s expression.
“We need to talk about the gifts.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. “If you want them back…”
“What? No. Never.” Mabon looked horrified. “But you should know what you have. The gold bar alone...” He opened his laptop, pulled up a spreadsheet that made Sam’s vision blur. “It’s twenty-three thousand dollars, at current market value.”
What??
“The cashmere jumper was three hundred. The books were special editions, so another couple of hundred, and they will appreciate over time. The coffee beans, the chocolate...” Mabon scrolled through line items Sam could barely see.
“The total value, taking into account inflation and market projections, and discounting the coffee and chocolate because they were consumable, is approximately twenty-five thousand dollars, at this point.”
“I think I’m going to faint.” Sam was feeling woozy.
“Please don’t.” Mabon caught his elbow, steadying him against the counter. “It’s yours, Sam. We gave them freely. But you should understand...you could invest what you have, or at least start a savings account. You could quit working here, if you want to.”
“I like working here.”
“I know.” Mabon’s smile was soft. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
Sam stared at the spreadsheet, listing items that had real monetary value, and yet they were currently tucked away in his cottage, doing nothing but gathering dust.
“Could you teach me?” He asked quietly. “Honestly, the best I can do with money is try to remember to pay my monthly bills. I know nothing about finance, or savings goals, or anything like that. I’d really like to learn how to start managing this sort of thing.”
Mabon’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Every Wednesday, if you like.”
Sam nodded, then hesitated. “Are you sure this stuff is really mine, and not just on loan. As in, mine even if I decide not to bond with you?”
“It’s all yours. Dragon gifts, especially courting gifts, are always given freely with no expectation of return.” Mabon seemed very firm about that.
“And the Council won’t - I don’t know - take issue with it? For secrecy violations?”
Mabon’s expression became more guarded. “The Council won’t interfere with traditional courting gifts. That’s protected under our laws.”
“But they could interfere with other things?” That had been something Sam had been worrying about. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Mabon, Rux, or Urien.
“Eventually, yes. When you bond with us - if you choose to bond with us - we’ll need to present you formally to the Council and register you as our Treasure.
” He paused. “There are protocols to follow, old laws about revealing ourselves to humans, and about bringing humans into dragon society. The Council enforces them strictly.”
Sam’s stomach tightened. “Should I be worried? Because I have to tell you that I have been worrying about something bad happening to you three.”
“Don’t worry about.” Mabon’s hand moved from his shoulder to clasp Sam’s hand. “We’ll handle it when the time comes, together, just the same as we do everything else.”
Together. There was that word again, offered like a promise Sam really wanted to hold onto.
True to his word, Mabon showed up at his house later that night with a tablet full of investment tutorials - Basil had been securely left in Sam’s bedroom. Sam’s brain hurt after an hour of compound interest explanations, but he was learning. Slowly.
/~/~/~/~/
Thursday night, all three dragons texted within minutes of each other:
Rux: Dinner Friday? At the estate? I promise not to cook for an entire army
Urien: The tomatoes need watering tomorrow morning. I could show you
Mabon: Market analysis can wait. Want to see a film instead?
Sitting on his sofa, with Basil purring against his thigh, Sam replied to the group chat:
Yes. To all of it