Chapter 2 #2
I stared down at the large coin. It was a silver vestren, even more rare than a wild dragon.
In a country with no royal children, he was as much a prince as he was a duke’s son.
One vestren, the equivalent to twenty-five carands, was nothing to him.
It was more than a week’s wages and enough to cancel our eviction notice.
Maybe even enough to buy a ticket to today’s race.
No, I had to pay the fee at Evie’s school.
We’d been notified that if our fine wasn’t paid before the start of term, Evie wouldn’t get to attend anymore.
It was a stretch to even send her there, but it was worth it.
Evie was going to be the one who got us out of bottomside.
With her sunshine hair and angel’s face, she was our mother’s only hope for marrying well.
My mother made it clear, repeatedly, that nobody would want the too-tall mousy bookworm with calloused hands and a propensity to speak her mind.
The sound of footsteps startled us both. I jumped, clutching the coin to my chest. Covington spun away, hand reaching instinctively toward his holster. He cursed when he found it empty.
A man in a crisp wool suit the color of ash peeked his head inside the stall. A peppered beard hugged his chin, and a tall hat, rather out of style, sat atop his head.
“Ah, there you are. I was wondering if anyone was here at all,” he said, voice buttery and cheerful, such a contrast from the bloody scene I’d just witnessed that it grated on me.
“I’ve come to leave a message for your father.
” He clicked his heels together and clasped his hands at his waist. His movements reminded me of a windup soldier my brother used to have.
Covington tossed me a loaded glance, then he turned to the man and, in a harsh tone, said, “He’s not here.”
“Indeed not.” The man peered around, rocking forward and back on his heels. “And as you are clearly occupied, I will make my message brief. Then you may tend to your wound there.” He nodded at Covington.
“Fine. She was just leaving,” Covington said, waving me toward the door.
Tucking the coin in my skirt pocket, I hurried from the lair without a word.
“Pretentious godspawn,” I muttered, kicking over a tall mushroom that stood in my path.
The air was thick with humidity and the whine of gnats as I stomped back up the hill through the woods.
It was too early to go to Mim’s, and I needed a moment to revisit what had just happened.
I flexed my fingers, recalling the way Azeron’s scales had felt, the way the lance had trembled in my hand each time it had struck the stones, the way I’d wanted to slap the duke’s son.
The papers painted him as one of Treston’s most eligible bachelors, but his manners had proven he was no gentleman.
The gold-flecked dragon, according to Covington, was a wild dragon. I’d never seen a wild dragon before. Few had. And I’d scared him off.
Bev’s warning about an omen rang in my ears and I stopped on the trail, sweat crawling down my back like a beetle. Then I waved a hand and kept walking. I didn’t believe in those cards. Cards had ruined our family, and I’d never alter my life based on a deck of cards.
The snap of a twig had me whirling, knife drawn.
The well-dressed nobleman from earlier approached from behind me. He picked his way along the trail with a wobbly gait, his long limbs reminiscent of the waving limbs of a leafless tree.
“Oh, there you are,” he said with the same blithe and chipper tone.
I raised my brows at him. Noblemen tended to scowl when looking at me, the way one might scrunch their face when they saw a rat.
He paused, took a deep breath, and smiled. “I am not accustomed to tromping through the woods in heat like this. Not accustomed to tromping through the woods in any weather, to be fair.” He laughed at himself. “But no matter. I’ve found you now.”
I lowered my knife but did not sheathe it.
“Ah, you will be wondering who I am.” He took a small yet overly ostentatious bow. “I am Merlon Fairfax.”
My gasp made him chuckle again. I’d read his name in the papers, seen his caricature, but never had I expected to meet the man known for his unruly court antics and his unpopular opinions on dragon riding.
“Mr. Fairfax,” I stammered, inclining my head only a little. “W-what can I do for you?”
He grinned and hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. “Accompany me to today’s dragon race.”
My brows pinched. “But, sir…”
“Now, now,” he said, lifting one hand in a consoling way, “the race is merely the next place I am headed, and as it turns out, I have a proposition for you that I believe will be best communicated over iced drinks in my personal rooms at the arena. I dislike this heat, Miss…?”
“Mireaux,” I finished.
“Miss Mireaux. And I dearly hope you are inclined to watch the race today.”
I’d dreamed of watching the King’s Race every day of my life. But that was only for women in their sun hats and fresh cotton dresses, perched on the arms of wealthy men. Not for me.
I glanced down at my work shift, a plain brown thing I wore to muck out dragon stalls. My boots had dried mud, and likely something fouler, along the sides and a red smear of blood on the left toe.
Fairfax clicked his tongue. “If it would make you more comfortable, I will provide you with more suitable attire for the race.”
I balked at him, knife lifting slightly once more.
“Oh, good heavens, nothing like that. I am entirely too old for that sort of thing. Besides, I’m madly in love.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I assure you, my proposition is entirely to do with dragons.”
“A proposition, sir?” I swallowed hard, unsure what this man could possibly want to offer me.
“You look as frightened as a cow on a train track.” He clapped his hands when I frowned, as if delighted he’d ruffled me. “I mean you no harm, my dear. I was immensely impressed with your skills back there with that dragon.”
“You saw that?”
Fairfax nodded. “I saw you save that boy’s life.
And the dragon’s. It’s why I followed you.
And as it so happens, I have been looking for someone with—how shall I say it?
—guts to partner with me in an endeavor I have been wanting to attempt for some time now.
” He tipped his head forward in a jovial, conspiratorial way. “You have guts.”
It was an odd compliment, and yet I felt my frown weakening.
He extended an elbow. “What say you? Attend the race, hear my proposition?” At my hesitation, he added, “You are in no way obligated to accept. I wish only for you to consider it.”
For the first time, I truly studied him.
He wore no wedding ring, but the ring of an heir on his pinky finger.
He was graying but still able to hike up a hillside in the heat of summer, his skin touched with the color that only came from hours spent out of doors.
The most confusing thing was the easy smile he wore, like it was his most natural expression.
Everything about him was different from the noblemen I’d seen in town.
Most especially the fact that he’d walked to catch up with me.
I nodded slowly, finally sheathing my knife. “I’ll hear your proposition, sir.”
“Very good!” he bellowed, louder than I’d anticipated. “Now, let’s go to the arena, or we’ll miss all the fun.”
Out of the forest once more, we made our way down a few tight streets and up to a wide bridge where a sleek black automobile was waiting at the curb, a sigil painted on the driver’s door.
“After you,” said Lord Fairfax.
I swallowed and stared as the driver exited and opened the door for me. For the first time in my life, I bundled into an automobile. When the engine rumbled to life, I tensed, wondering if I’d made a mistake getting in here.
“To the arena,” barked Fairfax to the driver a moment later.
All my fears evaporated as a broad smile broke across my face.