Chapter 14 #2
I consider the notion. If Sigurd wants me to be sure, then that’s what I should be. Previous me would have immediately decried instant love. He would have said no one falls in love that quickly. It’s infatuation. Not real feelings.
But the previous me had never met a dragon, never spent days with him listening to his deep voice and feeling that pull between us that was as strong as it was indescribable.
I sigh. Nevertheless, I know he was right to insist. I do need to be away from him to think about us. With him, I’m swept along in delight.
“Oh dear. People who sigh like that should consider the feelings of the important members of the piskey community. I nearly took a tumble. It was like being at Land’s End when the sea winds blow.”
I gasp and knock over my cup. “Wilfred,” I say, cursing and grabbing a napkin to mop up the mess. “What are you doing here?”
A woman at a table nearby looks up, and I immediately manoeuvre my body so that she can’t see me talking to myself.
The little piskey is seated on the table, his legs crossed. He’s wearing similar clothes to before but has chosen to pair the outfit with a Santa hat. The white, fluffy bobble bobs as he rests his chin on his steepled hands. His eyes are as bright as a new penny.
“’Tis good to see you, Cary.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Preventing you from making a grave mistake,” he says simply.
I gape at him. “What do you mean?”
He cocks his head. “Are you not making a mistake right now? Sitting here so far from your mate.” He bites his lip, his face merry and mischievous. “Oh dear, what a silly fopdoddle I am. I should not have used that word.”
“Which one? You use a lot.”
His laughter is like bells on the air, and a baby in his highchair tilts his head as if he hears it.
Wilfred leans closer. “Mate,” he whispers.
I rub my forehead. “You are already giving me a headache. What are you talking about?”
“Did you not know? Can’t you sense it?”
My head comes up, and my heart picks up speed. “Sense what?”
“That you are the dragon’s mate, of course.”
I suck in a breath. “What does that mean?”
I don’t modulate my voice, and the people nearby get up quickly and leave, shooting me suspicious looks.
Wilfred rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers.
At once, a silvery net descends from the ceiling, draping over us.
It sparkles in the light, and I can smell peppermint, the scent sharp and sweet.
It’s cold where it touches my skin, and the noise around us immediately stops.
“There,” he says. “I have concealed us, but we do not have long. It drains my magic quickly.”
“Why are you saying mate?”
“Ah, the dragon did not tell you. I thought so. Why, only this morning, I thought to myself, Wilfred, that dragon will make a ham fist of this business. You had best help him, or he will lose his one true mate.”
“There’s that word again,” I say faintly.
“You are a dragon’s mate,” he says simply, his eyes glowing eerily. His gaze is far away, as if seeing something I can’t see. “Each dragon is gifted one mate for all his long years. A person who will complete him—the other side of his dragon soul. You are that to Sigurd.”
I gasp. “That can’t be.”
He cocks his head. “Can it not? Can you tell me that you do not feel it deep in your bones and blood where magic still lingers?”
I consider the excitement, the sheer… joy I feel around Sigurd. The sense of rightness—of safety and warmth—I have only ever felt with him.
“Does he know?”
“Of course,” he says in blatant astonishment.
I sag. He’s right. Suddenly, all Sigurd’s words make sense. And all the conversations he’s had with other magical people where they placed importance on my role to him—he closed them down every time.
“I’ve been so blind. How could I not have guessed?”
He chuckles. “Ah, humans. You never see what is right in front of you. Mayhap it is wilful blindness, but I prefer to think that you cling too closely to your perception of the world. Anything else unnerves you.”
“But why didn’t Sig tell me?”
“He has always been a proponent of free will. He holds himself to very high standards. It is why he is revered in the magic world. There is only one of him. I have known many dragons over the centuries. They are an interesting race. Warm and kind, but quick to anger, and stubborn when they have an idea in their head. Even if it’s wrong, they will cling to it like the gold they love.
He would want you to come to him yourself. ”
“He said that.” I look up. “But you’re telling me. Why?”
He gives me a wide grin that creases his weathered little face.
“I like you, Cary. I think you are my friend, and I love the old dragon. He is the kindest, most gentle creature, and he deserves a mate such as you. Someone who will protect his little weaknesses, someone clearheaded and as kind as him.”
“What does it mean? A mate?” I pause. “Is this wrongness I feel caused by not being with him?”
“How does it feel?”
“Sick and dizzy—as if I’m going to fall. The farther I get from Cornwall, the more I feel this tug in my belly. It hurts without him.”
He nods. “It will grow and grow.”
“And he left me with this?” I say incredulously.
“Ah, for all his learning, Sigurd never really believed in your existence, so he didn’t pay attention to the books about dragon mates. I would warrant he doesn’t know. He knows what it will mean for himself, but not that it is as strong for you. He thinks little of himself. It is surprising.”
I shake my head. Joy is growing in me, strong and pulsing like a fire being stoked into life. The greyness of the day seeps away. “Are you sure?” I ask more to say the words out loud than to have them affirmed.
He winks. “You bore a dragon’s knot, did you not?”
I flush bright red, and he laughs lustily.
“Nay, do not be ashamed, Cary. ’Tis the most natural thing in the magic world. It is something that can only happen betwixt true mates. I warrant he lost control.”
“Well, you know,” I say awkwardly.
His eyes twinkle. “I do not, but I look forward to finding out.”
My eyes narrow. “You said Sigurd knows what will happen to him. What do you mean?”
His eyes go a little soft. “Ah, for you, if you do not go back to him, you will be fine. He did not complete the mating ritual last night, and he has set you free. You will move onwards, and eventually he will become a distant, gentle memory.” He hesitates. “But for him…”
Dread fills me. “What?”
He looks up. “He will dwindle away,” he says simply. “He will grow dim and fade away and move into the Sunlit Lands. He cannot be himself now without you.”
I half stand, my chair crashing to the floor. “Oh my god, and he didn’t tell me this?”
“He is honourable, that dragon.”
“He’s a… He’s a silly twat,” I say fiercely.
He chuckles. “I think you are both going to be entertainment for us. What will you do now?”
“I’m going to him, of course.” Fear fills me. “I have to find him.”
“Try Pedn Vounder. It is foggy today, and that’s when the Mer sing there. Sigurd always goes there when he needs to think.”
I grab my wallet. “Thank you,” I say fervently. “I’ll never forget this. What will you do now?”
The net disappears with a pop, and the noise roars back in. He looks at the family next to us, the children throwing their food on the floor, and the parents ignoring their behaviour. “I shall have some fun.” He winks. “The M4 is waiting for them.”
“I take it that’s not the road they need?”
“Ah, but it is the road they will take. Farewell, Cary. I shall see you soon.”
I wave a hand, but I’m too busy running out of the restaurant for the car.
“Hey, darling,” my father says.
I stop the car, cradling the phone to my ear as I remove the keys and fling open the door.
“Hey, Dad. How was the cruise?”
“It was lovely. Your mother learnt to fold towels into decorative animals, which would be useful if she ever did laundry. How are you?”
I slam the door shut, looking around. The car park is empty of cars, which is hardly surprising as the fog is thick here.
I can scarcely see a foot beyond the car park.
I can hear the sea, though. Its roar fills the air, and I start to walk towards the sound.
Spotting a footpath, I take it down, the sand crunching beneath my feet.
I avert my eyes from the sign on my left stating that the path is challenging and very steep in places. Nothing is keeping me from Sigurd.
“I’m so sorry, but I can’t make Christmas,” I say.
“Oh no. Why?”
“I’ve met someone,” I say baldly.
There are a few beats of silence. I skirt a path of rocks, looking vainly for the end of the path. It’s impossible to see as the fog is all around me. I want to run to find Sig and make sure he’s okay, but I slow my steps. It won’t do to take a header off the steep path.
“Adrian?” my father asks dubiously.
“No way.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Your mother only said this morning what a douchecanoe he was.”
I blink. “Pardon?”
“It was in one of her American shows. So, you’ve met someone?”
“Yes, in Cornwall. He er… He lives here.” I hesitate. “I think this is the one, Dad.”
He’d always told me I’d know the one when I met him.
The silence stretches long enough for me to check that the call is still connected. “Where did you meet him?”
“Well, that’s the funny thing. On the beach at Porthcurno.”
“You’re joking.”
I frown. “No, why?”
“It’s strange. I don’t think I ever told you this, but when you were a baby, we were on holiday in St Ives.
Your mum was in a shop, and I was waiting for her with you in your pushchair.
A lady stopped me. I remember she was stunningly beautiful.
She said you were meant for Cornwall and that I should tell you the stories of the place.
She actually ran into her shop and brought me a book of myths and legends. ”
I stop walking. “The one you used to read to me?”