Chapter Three
BEN
The alarm sounded on my phone, warning me it was ten to seven. I’d found Glenys earlier and she’d led me to understand, without saying the actual words, that it would be an irredeemable sin for me to be even one minute late for supper. Which, in this house, appeared to be spelled with a capital S.
She’d told me to use the back door as I came and went from the car, that no one except immediate family was allowed a key to the front door.
And then I’d thought to ask her for the Wi-Fi password, because even standing on the bed with my phone stretched up to the ceiling hadn’t got me so much as one bar of signal.
She’d paused. “I’ll have to check with Mr Bedwyr. ”
What? Did she not know it herself? Or was life here so restricted that the head of family decided who could be entrusted with the Wi-Fi password? No, that would be an impossible way to live. It must be that Glenys was being overly cautious around a strange dragon from a family they didn’t know.
“Of course,” I’d said with a smile. “This is something of an unusual situation.”
She’d made a shushing motion, as if to stop me talking about it. I’d retreated, hoping that password would be forthcoming soon.
And now I was changed into a pair of dark brown chinos and a cream shirt, because if supper was what it seemed to be, I got the impression that turning up in sweatshirt and jeans wouldn’t go down well.
Thank God I’d thought to pack for almost every eventuality I could think of.
One of the problems about deciding what to bring for this stay was that, until I saw how many records this family had, I had no idea how long I’d need to be here.
If Mortimer hadn’t persuaded Rhodri to let me in, I wouldn’t have had a hope of getting near these records.
And the thing was, no one knew why Mortimer had pulled these strings.
His family was immensely influential and rich, and if something didn’t bring them power or profit, they rarely looked at it twice.
It made sense that they were in banking, I supposed, given how hard it was to get a loan.
The Berstows couldn’t have been more different.
My family’s treasure was dragon history, and we had a burning need to preserve and hoard records.
Unlike all other dragons, our treasure appeared to be communal—no single Berstow owned any particular historical document.
It was strange, but it worked for us. And honestly?
It was probably no stranger than having two forms would seem to humans, trapped forever in just one.
When Evelyn had returned from the first Dragon Moot in three centuries, called by Abimelech Mortimer, her face had been lit with excitement.
“Wales,” she’d said dramatically. “God bless those Welsh dragons. They’re almost as good as the Welsh humans at keeping records. They just didn’t think to tell anyone they still had them because…” She looked lost momentarily. “Why wouldn’t one lead with that in any conversation? They’re odd.”
She got no argument from any of us. Her uncharacteristic excitement dwindled as she looked around at each of us, the dragons who specialised in the earliest written dragon history.
“There’s a reason Mortimer’s pressured them into allowing us access, and I don’t yet know what it is.
So, we do our research just as meticulously as we always would, but I suggest you don’t share any unexpected discoveries with your host family until you’ve run it past me.
Report back, and if we can gather a picture, we may be able to work out what he’s up to.
Of course, it’s always possible there’s nothing to find.
But he’s looking for something, I’d bet my first edition of Beowulf on it. ”
So now, here I was, heading downstairs to the dining room that Glenys had indicated earlier. It was another room more suited in size to a castle than a house. There were double doors at either end, set beneath pointed stone archways, and a long table stretched down the centre of the room.
Multiple dragons were already seated around the table, and…
oh. It appeared they weren’t expecting a strange dragon, because those closest to me were instantly on their feet, squaring their shoulders threateningly.
The muted conversations fell swiftly silent, and I saw a blonde woman tuck her small child behind her.
“Hello,” I said, like an absolute dork. “I’m Ben Berstow, here at the invitation of your head of family.” Calling him Mr Bedwyr made him sound like some kind of businessman, and Rhodri felt far too casual for this place.
No one was exactly relaxing, but I no longer felt in imminent danger of being set on fire. And then Glenys slid in through the door at the other end of the room. “He’s coming.”
Suddenly, I was no longer the centre of attention. People swiftly sat down again, leaving an empty chair halfway down the table on the left-hand side. “Yours,” Glenys nodded at me.
I sat down, and had barely time to do more than glance at my neighbours before Rhodri Bedwyr arrived.
He strode in as if he didn’t even notice anyone else, yet at the same time, I had the distinct impression that he’d clocked everyone around the table.
Which was no mean feat given that there were twenty—no, nineteen of us.
Nineteen places filled and one empty chair, immediately to the right of the seat that Rhodri was making for at the head of the table.
I looked around, taking in the mixture of ages, and saw in many of them the same dark good looks that were evident in Rhodri and had been in the dragon I’d met outside.
Presumably they were immediate family. Did they all live in the house?
I realised how very little Glenys had told me, and couldn’t work out if that was because she was being deliberately cautious with information or because it hadn’t occurred to her that I might want to know.
There was no sign of the dragon who’d been outside earlier.
Glenys hadn’t sat down with the rest of us. She was standing by the door once more, eyes fixed on Rhodri. As were most people’s, although the woman who’d shielded the child from me was more intent on stilling the little hands that were attempting to beat a tattoo on the table in front of him.
Once seated, Rhodri looked around the table. I saw his gaze rest briefly on the empty chair at his right hand and the way his jaw tightened. For the first time it occurred to me—perhaps he kept it there in honour of his dead wife?
“We have a member of the Berstow family staying with us for a while,” he said. His voice was scarcely raised, yet I knew every dragon in the room heard him as he made my presence sound a little less fun than discovering a wart. “You will not impede him in what he’s here to do.”
And then he looked down the table at Glenys and inclined his head.
Glenys turned away and I realised there must be a trolley or a side table or something just out of my sightline because she turned back with soup bowls and proceeded to serve everyone, assisted by a teenage girl.
Rhodri first, then in strict order from the top of the table to the bottom.
No one spoke, so I kept quiet too, keeping my eyes on the soup bowl in front of me.
But once Rhodri started talking to the elderly male dragon sitting to his left, the room slowly filled with multiple, low-voiced conversations.
The young woman on my right, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, flicked a glance at me, and I gave her a small smile in return.
“This soup is very good,” I said.
“Glenys is an excellent cook,” she replied, encouraged enough to examine me thoroughly. “I’m Phoebe, by the way. The Berstows… I don’t know that family.”
And there was the sticking point. Rhodri had said nothing to the assembled dragons about why I was here.
Was he being mysterious about it because he really couldn’t be bothered to enlighten his family, or was withholding the information a way of retaining control?
Thinking quickly, I decided to play it safe.
I didn’t want to be booted out because I hadn’t followed Rhodri’s unvoiced instructions.
Those damn records had better be worth all this diplomatic tiptoeing.
“I don’t believe we’ve mixed with your family before.” I wasn’t about to go into why my family had spent the last several centuries avoiding other dragons. “Can you tell me a little about the house? It’s quite impressive.” And hopefully a completely neutral topic.
But at that point, she looked past me, and her eyes widened as she drew in a sharp breath.
I followed her gaze to see the dragon I’d met outside sauntering in through the open door behind Rhodri. He wandered over to the chair at Rhodri’s right hand and dropped into it, before leaning back and gesturing to the young woman who’d been helping Glenys serve.
“Rhi, if you don’t mind.”
And all of it without even a glance in Rhodri’s direction.
Rhodri, meanwhile, had continued in his conversation with the dragon to his left, giving no hint he was even aware of the new dragon.
“Oh, God,” Phoebe said beside me. “He’s—” She cut herself off.
I watched a furiously blushing Rhi place a bowl of soup in front of the newcomer, who glanced at her with a smile. I wouldn’t have said it was possible, but she blushed even harder.
Phoebe was watching Rhodri now. Half of those around the table were, eyes flicking to him even as they continued their various conversations. The woman with the child had a hand firmly on his shoulder as he wriggled in his seat, staring at the late arrival.
“Who’s the guy who’s just come in?” I asked quietly, leaning in to Phoebe.
She shook her head. “That’s Dominic, Rhodri’s heir, and I can’t believe he’s wearing jeans. What is—” She cut herself off again, as if finishing the sentence felt dangerous.
Dominic—and I was glad to have my suspicions confirmed—had changed since I’d seen him outside.
He was now wearing dark blue jeans that clung to his thighs just a little too well, as I’d somehow noticed in the seconds before he sat down.
His shirt was a deep purple that he appeared to have abandoned buttoning halfway through the task.
That was way too much cleavage to be showing at a formalish supper.
Way too much for anything outside a club, in my opinion.
As I studied him, he flicked his gaze up with disconcerting suddenness and held mine.
Just for an instant, the gold of his dragon flickered in his eyes, as if taken by surprise at having a strange dragon at his dining table.
But then the corner of his mouth raised in a lopsided smirk, and as his eyes turned brown once more, the expression in them was unmistakable.
He knew—or he thought he did—why I was watching him, and he was both amused and unsurprised.
I held his gaze a moment longer, letting him know he didn’t impress me, then turned back to Phoebe to ask her about the history of the house.
Yes, Dominic was attractive. Hot as hell, in fact.
And by God, did he know it. Which instantly made him far less attractive, at least so far as I was concerned.
He was evidently a spoiled brat, brought up in a house like this where everyone kowtowed to him and his father. Sauntering in late, with no apology or excuse offered… I hoped I wouldn’t have anything to do with him while I was here.