Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Ormdale
Una peered at the underside of a wyvern foot. The small operation in which she was occupied had to be performed quickly while the patient was distracted by the floral offering she had placed before it. Otherwise it was liable to give her a nasty nip, in place of the cowslips.
“Miss Una,” called an inconvenient voice. Una recognised it as belonging to one of the village boys who helped collect lost things at the menagerie.
“Not now, Tommy!” Una whispered. The wyvern wouldn’t tolerate this much longer.
“Found a fancy camera, left behind by mistake,” the boy said.
“Take it to Mrs Alfred,” Una whispered.
Just as her tweezers grasped the embedded pebble which had been causing the two-legged dragon to limp so piteously, Una heard a warning honk.
Claiming the pebble with a gasp of triumph, Una backed away as fast as she could.
The creature gave her the kind of deeply suspicious, side-eyed look that only a wyvern could, then went back to pecking at the cowslips, swishing its barbed tail.
Una wiped the tweezers and returned them to her belt pouch, then unclipped the little skirt-lifter keeping her frock out of the dirt.
Una was thankful that wyverns did not show the propensity to bond with humans that some dragon species did. She would have derived little pleasure from an affectionate wyvern following her about, with its spurred claws and chickenish, bipedal gait.
A wyvern was nothing like a Greater Welsh Dragon, an animal with the inborn potential to form a lifelong attachment to its trainer.
Edith had bonded secretly with her own dragon, Cariad, while a guest of the Welsh dragon-keeper family—about which family the less said, the better, at least as far as Una was concerned.
Indeed, that visit had turned spectacularly sour, and Edith had been forced to steal the beautiful golden dragon to escape their mountain stronghold.
Though Edith had sent Cariad back to her home, the dragon had refused to be ridden or trained by anyone else afterwards.
Later, the Welsh dragon-keepers had sent Cariad to Ormdale as a peace offering. That had been the beginning of an uneasy alliance between the dragon families.
Today, Una could not stop running the story about Cariad through her head, like tangled threads in her fingers. Might there be something there that would help Violet here?
Una pressed a lavender-scented handkerchief over her nose and headed for the cellars.
“Tell me about the day you left Ormdale two years ago,” Una demanded, as soon as she found her sister hard at work shovelling manure, dressed in an old shirtwaist and bloomers held up by a pair of suspenders that looked uncomfortably familiar.
She had probably taken them off the servants’ washing line without asking.
“The day I left? You mean two years ago? You ought to bag this stuff up and sell it, you know,” Violet observed, blowing hair out of her eyes.
“Thomas says it makes the pumpkins big enough for Cinderella, and Gwydion told me dragon waste is how they keep themselves in vegetables year-round up in Gwynedd.”
“Enough about Cinderella!” snapped Una. The air was not fresh and Una was anxious to get back outside as soon as possible. “My question is, did you say goodbye to Elfed just before you left?”
“Yes, but not that day. It was the night before.”
“The night before? Are you sure?” Una repeated.
“Of course I am! What’s this about, anyway? Why do you want to know?”
“Because as soon as you left, Elfed went wild when anyone came near him. And the same thing happened to Cariad. And Edith fixed it after. It was because they’d bonded. Remember?”
Violet dropped the shovel.
“What happened that night, Violet?” Una insisted. “Was it a full moon?”
But Violet wasn’t listening anymore. Her eyes had gone glassy, and she flew towards the stairs.
Una caught her arm.
“You smell of wyvern,” Una warned. “They won’t like that.”
Violet blinked once or twice. “I’ll wash in the beck on the way.”
“Do you want someone from the village to see you in your combinations, Violet?” Una said severely.
Violet made a noise of irritation. “I’ve worn a spangled léotard and scarlet tights in front of a crowd of strangers, I’ll have you know!”
For a moment, Una imagined this scene in excruciating detail. Then she shook her head clear of it.
“I’m going to pretend I did not hear that, Violet,” Una said, in a voice that was much calmer than she felt. “But you really mustn’t go see Elfed without getting that smell off you first.”
Violet looked about dimly, then picked up the pail of water and upended it over her own head. Una jumped back, gasping.
Violet shook out her hair, and ran out of the cellar up the stairs, leaving a trail of drips behind her.
Una stood for a moment with her mouth open. Then she stamped her feet in the empty cellar, suddenly laughing.
“Oh, Violet!“ she gasped.
Violet scrambled through the woods and plunged through the old fording place in the river with a wild hope throbbing in her veins like wine. She had almost reached the enclosure when she heard Una’s voice calling after her.
“Just wait!” Una cried. “I’m trying to help you!”
Violet peered over her shoulder. “You aren’t trying to stop me?”
“Why would I have even told you, numpty!“ gasped Una, throwing out her arms in exasperation. “If this is going to work at all, someone needs to distract Cariad.”
“Oh. Right,” said Violet. She patted her pockets helplessly.
“I’ve got it,” said Una, holding up a sticky twist of brown paper.
“Thanks,” said Violet weakly.
“Go round the back,” nodded Una. “When I’ve got Cariad, you call Elfed.”
Violet circled the enclosure, crouching low.
She watched as Una got herself over the wall and talked sweetly to the dragons, offering them treats and discreetly untying Elfed from his tether post. They were only tethered during tourist season, as there was always a fear that some visitor might have brought a concealed firearm and take a shot at a large flying dragon if it came too close.
Violet’s mouth was bone-dry. Finally, it was time.
She whistled. Both dragons turned to look for the sound. Violet stood up, scrambling up the wall and standing on it to make herself as visible as possible.
Both dragons, golden and rust, made a beeline for her. But Cariad stopped short, arrested by her tether.
Violet held out her arms for the huge creature thundering towards her.
He spread his wings and sailed straight at her like a hawk descending on a mouse.
There was a moment when all she knew was that she was not on her feet anymore, and then she was tumbling, head over heels, scrabbling for a grip that wasn’t there, on scales as smooth as water.
Then she felt the ruffle of the stretchy dewlaps that ran down his spine and managed to seize hold of one, the weight of her own body wrenching at her shoulder brutally.
They were ascending now, rapidly—she could feel the obscure pull of the vanishing earth beneath.
Ignoring it, Violet wrestled herself into a sitting position and pulled herself closer to his neck.
She could now take stock of the situation. Thankfully, Violet had an excellent head for heights.
Elfed had taken her above Drake Hall. Una was far below on the grass, shielding her eyes against the sun and gazing up at her.
No one was screaming—not yet—and that was a good sign, Violet thought.
She leaned low, snaking her arms as far as they could go round Elfed’s neck. Violet’s heart beat fast, not with fear but uncertainty—she still didn’t know if he recognised her, if he would reject her, or if Una’s theory might be right.
“It’s me, Violedd,“ she said, using the Welsh name that Gwydion had called her.
Elfed threw her off.