Chapter Nine
DOMINIC
Berstow had gone very still. He was absolutely focused on the markings, reaching out a hand before pausing as if he shouldn’t touch them.
Then, presumably, he realised that they’d been exposed to the elements for who knew how many years already, and traced one of the long slashes with his fingers.
Which were nice fingers. Just right for wrapping around that pen of his. Or something else.
He was communing with the wall, no longer aware of my presence, so I took myself off to what used to be the front gate of the castle and stared down the track that led to the river below. I wasn’t used to being ignored. But wasn’t this why I’d brought him up here, to show him the markings?
I scuffed my boot against a fallen stone as I considered it.
Not really. I didn’t do that kind of thing.
I wasn’t interested in helping his research—I’d just wanted…
something. Some kind of reaction out of him other than that annoying calm as if I wasn’t worth even noticing.
Instead, I'd ended up competing with a thousand-year-old wall for his attention. And losing.
The minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Berstow, who was doubtless taking fifty million photos for his records. For a moment, I considered heading down to the river. But then I realised I’d miss walking back to the house with him and possibly getting confirmation on why he was here.
So I scrubbed a hand impatiently through my hair and sat down on the largest block of stone that had tumbled from a wall at some point. The sun was warm, the birds calling overhead, and unbidden, I remembered another summer’s day, when the castle was more whole.
A rug on uneven grass. The smell of egg mayonnaise, of pastry flaking apart in my hands. My mother’s voice, warm and close, telling a story about a princess, a knight, and a unicorn.
“Unicorns aren’t real,” I’d said, with all the certainty of a child.
She’d laughed softly, leaning in to press a kiss to my hair.
“Humans would say dragons aren’t real either,” she’d said. “Yet here we are.”
And that was all. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I’d never been able to remember anything else from that day. Just that single, stubborn fragment. Proof she’d been there.
Proof she’d loved me.
* * *
I was taking approximately my five hundredth pass around the walls of the courtyard when Berstow finally appeared.
For the first time, I saw an actual expression on his face.
Barely suppressed excitement filled his eyes and a smile tugged at his lips.
But when he saw me, kicking at the bare dirt where Heath’s blood had ensured nothing would ever grow again, that smile disappeared and his face became blank once more.
Oddly, I found myself regretting that—it had brought him to life. Made him look like a person, rather than the stolid block of nothingness he’d been ever since arriving here.
All it had taken was some ancient scratches in a wall. Seriously? That was what got a reaction out of him?
I raised my eyebrows at him. Wasn’t going to ask what he made of what I’d shown him, but I kind of hoped he’d tell me.
“Yeah, thanks for pointing me to those,” he said, sliding his phone back in his pocket as we started picking our way down the hillside.
“I don’t know how old they are, but the castle’s pretty early—maybe eleventh century.
” He paused for an instant, the only sound the curlews calling overhead, and sent me a sideways glance.
“Do you know anything about the marks? Does your father?”
How the hell was I supposed to know what my father knew? I shrugged. “Far as I know, no one else has even noticed them.”
That was what came of having too much time on my hands, I supposed, and nothing to do with it.
I noticed things. Like the furrow between Berstow’s eyes as he walked beside me, mentally miles away, despite our shoulders almost being close enough to brush.
He rubbed a thumb across his eyebrow, and I noticed those hands of his again.
They were big, and I wouldn’t mind feeling them on my skin, biting in as he urged me to fuck him harder.
“I’m going to send some photos to my head of family,” he said. “Maybe she’ll know what they are.”
He shot me another sideways glance. As if perhaps he thought he should ask permission to share the photos yet had absolutely no intention of doing so.
“Knock yourself out,” I told him. I wasn’t my father.
He nodded slightly. “Thanks for showing me.”
I couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. There’d been the faintest suggestion of gritted teeth as he spoke to me. Which, yeah, I couldn’t lie—I liked that. I was getting under his skin even if he tried not to show it.
But he didn’t say anything the rest of the way back. Maybe he’d forgotten I was there again. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested in interacting with me. I couldn’t tell which it was. And that was very annoying.
“See you,” I said as we neared the old stables, and I peeled off in that direction.
“Uh, yeah,” he said after me. “And thanks.”
Well, someone was either well brought up or grateful. I knew which I wanted to believe.
BEN
Dominic was almost as annoying when leaving as he was when arriving. No warning, no build-up, just a ‘see you’, and he was off. I was probably supposed to be grateful he’d even bothered to say anything. Honestly, that man. Everything he said and did seemed designed to throw me off balance.
It took me a moment, a moment during which I found I was watching him walk away, his stride long and sure, leashed power in every move he made, but I finally realised.
That was exactly what he wanted to achieve.
Not just with me—with everyone. His own father, strolling in late to supper with a shirt that was barely decent, and even his little group of followers were always looking to him, hanging on his every word rather than relaxing like a normal group of friends.
Because he kept them off-balance. I didn’t know why, and frankly, I didn’t care.
He’d been helpful this afternoon, and I appreciated that, but everything else about him was disruptive and irritating.
I’d send a photo of the castle to Evelyn as soon as I was somewhere that had an actual signal.
Those markings… Something was tickling at the back of my mind.
I was almost certain I’d seen them before.
But almost was doing some heavy lifting.
Maybe I recognised them because they were a draconic pattern, and they spoke to inherited memory.
The back door was open, the sound of voices drifting out from the kitchen, and as I walked in, I almost collided with a short, fast-moving blur.
“Teddy,” a young woman said sharply. “Watch where you’re going.”
“My fault,” I said, and nodded to her. And found myself unable to move past her and back to the records room because Teddy was planted directly in my way, head tilted back as he looked up at me.
“You’re the one who’s looking at the papers,” he said.
“That’s me,” I agreed.
“This is my newest pine cone.” He thrust his hand up at me, with a rather small and crooked pine cone sitting on the palm.
“Um, yes. That’s very nice,” I said, as admiration seemed to be expected.
“It’s not my biggest one, but look, it has a bit missing.”
“Which makes it different from the fifty-three others in your room, I suppose,” the woman said. “Hi. I’m Rae, and this is Teddy, King of the Pine Cones.”
Teddy beamed. “Do you want to see my collection? Dominic said it’s the best one he’s ever seen.”
My brain froze. “Dominic said that? We are talking about the same Dominic?”
Rae’s lips twitched. “Oh, there’s only one Dominic.” She looked at me as if she were assessing something, though I didn’t know what. “But yes, unexpected as it may seem, he has opinions about pine cones.”
“He knows everything,” Teddy proclaimed. “Come and see them, please?”
“Teddy,” Rae said. “I’m sure Mr Berstow has other things to do. Maybe later, if you’re very good, you can bring your favourite one to supper and show him. If that’s okay with Mr Berstow.”
“Ben, please. And I’d love to see your favourite one later, Teddy,” I said, carefully sidestepping him and heading for the door with another smile at Rae.
Primarily of relief that I didn’t have to go and spend time looking at an array of pine cones and trying to find something nice to say about each one.
The thought that Dominic had done that… My brain was still frozen on that image.
But I had a lot of work to do, discoveries to make, and brain itches about those markings to scratch until, hopefully, something fell into place. I didn’t have time to waste thinking about the conundrum that was Dominic Bedwyr.
* * *
I’d been almost looking forward to supper.
Mainly because I was famished, but also because I was beginning to feel I understood the rhythm of this place.
Phoebe was friendly, and Jeff on my other side was always ready to talk.
Mainly about football, to be true, but things here weren’t quite as awkward as that first evening meal had made them seem.
When Rhodri came in with two older dragons, both of whom I recognised but whose names I didn’t know, Phoebe drew in a breath. Tiny, but I heard it. The entire table became very still and silent at the bitten-down fury on Rhodri’s face.
The power Rhodri held, his presence and the way he dominated this house were oppressive.
He didn’t shout—that I’d witnessed, anyway—but a simple glance made whoever was on the receiving end wither on the spot.
Heads of family were fearsome in their power, and Rhodri didn’t bother to cloak his.
Dragons were part of the human world and subject to its laws, but there were so many other types of punishment dragon heads could dole out. Their word was absolute.
Even Dominic was behaving, I saw, somewhat to my surprise. Sitting normally rather than slouching, carefully watching his father. Right up until he must have felt my eyes on him, and his gaze flicked straight to me.
There was a glimmer in his eyes, amusement perhaps, or acknowledgement.
As if he’d caught me at something and he didn’t mind in the least. I knew I shouldn’t, but I looked away first. Tried to will away the heat in my cheeks from being caught looking.
Because I hadn’t been looking, not in the way Dominic clearly assumed.
Once again, at the end of the meal no one stirred from the table until Rhodri had risen to his feet and left the room, and a collective breath seemed to be let out. The volume of various conversations went up, but none of it drowned out the child’s voice. “Mr Berstel!”
“Berstow,” Rae corrected, a hand on Teddy’s shoulder where he was wriggling in his chair.
Without that anchoring hand, I had no doubt that Teddy would have launched himself bodily across the table.
As it was, big grey eyes stared at me imploringly, and I remembered my rash promise to admire his favourite pine cone.
Excusing myself from Phoebe and Jeff, I went to him.
Teddy met me halfway, holding out a rather battered-looking pine cone with immense ceremony.
“This is the foundation one,” he informed me. “That means it’s the best. Dominic said so.”
“It’s very…” I searched desperately for a suitable adjective. Muddy seemed unkind. Lopsided was probably out, along with Are you sure it hasn’t got insects hiding in it that’ll crawl into your bed? So maybe I took after my mum when it came to the importance of clean sheets.
“Distinctive,” I said at last.
Teddy beamed.
Before I could think of anything else to say, a voice cut in behind me. “It’s going to rain tomorrow.”
I turned. Dominic had appeared, drawn no doubt by curiosity, boredom, or simply unable to resist interfering in somebody else’s conversation.
He crouched beside Teddy, taking the pine cone with surprising care.
“See how it’s closed up?” he said, running one finger lightly along the scales. “They do that when it’s going to be wet.”
Teddy’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Means your room’s basically a weather station.”
“My own weather station?”
“Very advanced technology,” Dominic agreed gravely.
Teddy looked delighted.
And I—Well. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. Not because I’d thought Dominic incapable of kindness, exactly, but because he did it with complete ease.
Then he glanced up, straight at me. The instant he caught whatever was on my face, his openness turned into something more familiar, both mocking and challenging at the same time.
“Mind,” he added lightly, handing the pine cone back to Teddy as he rose to his feet, “they burn fast as anything in dragon-fire. Best not to breathe on them.”
Teddy laughed.
Dominic was already moving away, trailing in his wake three of the younger male dragons who I was starting to think of as his coterie.
I found myself watching him, wondering. And definitely not noticing the lazy arrogance with which he moved. Okay, yes, I noticed that, but I was not finding it in any way attractive.