Chapter Thirty-two
DOMINIC
Ben looked up as I pushed open the door.
“Well?” he asked. “Anything left of the four offenders, or just a few scales scattered over the hillside?”
I grinned and stiffly hopped up on the table next to him, laughing when he couldn’t help moving his stack of papers to a safe distance. And then resting his hand on my thigh.
“They’re okay,” I said. It wasn’t really their fault. Well, it was and it wasn’t. I’d called Heath, because I thought it should be done in person rather than by text, and told him we were out. No Bedwyrs would be taking part in those fights anymore.
And then I’d found the far-from-fantastic four, and made sure they understood exactly why it’d been a bad idea to start with. I’d told them we weren’t doing it again.
Problem was, I didn’t know what else there was for restless young dragons to do here that wasn’t completely self-destructive. Maybe they could take up history. That seemed to keep Ben happily occupied for hours on end.
“I went to see your father earlier.”
Ben’s words took a moment to make sense, but when they did…
“Why?” I asked. Although I tried to keep it neutral, I knew there was an edge to my voice.
My dragon was unsettled, suspecting exactly what I did—that he’d gone to plead my case for me. And that was unacceptable. My pride wouldn’t allow it, no matter what the outcome. I’d have to let Rhodri know I hadn’t asked Ben to do that. That I didn’t want him to have done that.
“I found something in here that belongs to him, a personal item,” Ben said, and God, I hated myself for ever doubting him.
To his apparent confusion, I tipped his face up, fingers under his chin, and kissed him. Love and apology combined.
“Uh, okay,” he said when I finally drew away, and he was smiling at me, his eyes sparkling. “Anyway, I thought I should tell you.”
“How was he?” I asked.
“Surprisingly non-homicidal,” he said
“I guess that’s a positive.” I’d been waiting all morning to be summoned, for judgement to be delivered.
As the hours ticked away and I was still here, I was beginning to believe I might be safe, after all.
That he might be keeping me in suspense simply to drive home just how unsuitable I was for leadership, rather than because he was still considering getting rid of me.
Rhodri had decades ahead of him yet. Maybe he thought I could still be brought to heel.
Or maybe he’d just been busy with other things so hadn’t had a chance to make a final decision. My gut squirmed at that, so I pushed myself off the table.
“Reporting for duty,” I told Ben. “Where do you want me?”
Okay, so maybe the history got sidetracked a bit. But that was Ben’s fault.
* * *
By the time evening rolled around, I was cautiously optimistic that I wasn’t going to be exiled after all.
Not optimistic enough to fully relax. Rhodri still ignored me through both lunch and supper with the kind of icy precision that came from years of practice.
But he also hadn’t summoned me for judgement, and after nearly two days of waiting for the axe to fall, that was beginning to feel hopeful.
At supper, he didn’t leave once the meal was finished, as he usually did, but stayed talking to Dylan and Robert. The rest of us were finally released by his signal to Glenys that she could start clearing.
As I rounded the table towards Ben, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rhodri was watching me. I kissed Ben quickly on the cheek as he stood, unable to stop myself, and absolutely did not look back towards the head of the table afterwards in case I met my father’s eyes.
Outside, the air smelled of rain, just for a change. The pub was only ten minutes from Dragon’s Ending and looked exactly like every other village pub with its low ceilings crossed with black beams, uneven stone floor and approximately six hundred years of absorbed beer smell.
The others had already commandeered the long table near the fire. Megan stood up the moment she saw me.
“How are you?” she demanded before I’d even sat down. She’d been like that this morning, too, unable to hide her worry after seeing me plough into the hillside.
“Oh, excellent,” I said. “Barely any of my organs exploded.”
She looked horrified enough that I relented immediately. “I’m joking. Just bruised.”
Her shoulders loosened slightly. “First round’s on me.”
“Megan,” I said, deeply offended, “I would never exploit your guilt for free alcohol.”
“You absolutely would,” Josh informed me.
Fair point. Megan already knew my order, and she turned to Ben. He hesitated, looking over the beers on offer.
“The Old Teaser’s good,” I told him. “Try mine first, if you want.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I don’t know any of the others.”
We ended up on the battered bench seat, and when Megan returned with my pint, I pushed it towards him.
He took a cautious sip, blinked once, then took another much larger one.
“I can already taste the hangover,” he informed me. “But by God, it’ll be worth it.”
Laughter rolled around the table, easy and warm. Megan, bless her, fetched me another pint, seeing I wasn’t getting this one back.
Slowly, without me really noticing it happen, the remaining tension from the night before eased away.
Not entirely. Megan still watched me sometimes when she thought I wouldn’t notice, checking I wasn’t secretly bleeding to death.
Dafydd had also decided I was no longer allowed out of his sight for prolonged periods, judging by the frequency with which his attention snapped back towards me during conversations.
But mostly, things felt normal. Or as normal as they ever got around here.
I drank more slowly than usual, sticking firmly to my second pint while the others drifted cheerfully onward. Nobody commented, but I caught the tiny flickers of surprise all the same.
Usually I’d have been in the midst of everything by now, provoking arguments, winding Josh up until everyone laughed, throwing out just enough chaos to keep the conversation alive whenever it started to dip.
Tonight, though, I found myself sitting back more, letting the others carry conversations without needing me to constantly throw sparks into the room to keep things going. Turned out they managed perfectly well on their own.
And God, it was good watching Ben settle into the group. I hadn’t thought about the fact he hadn’t really mixed with the rest of the family, Teddy aside. He was quiet but happy to join in rather than hovering awkwardly.
At one point Rhys asked casually, “So why don’t we know about your family, then?”
Ben hesitated before saying, “I’m not really able to tell you that.”
And instantly everyone read the subtext—Rhodri’s orders—and moved on. We’d all learned to expect information to be withheld and not to ask questions, and that automatic obedience made me uneasy.
Before I could dwell on it too much, Josh launched into a rant about the guy who’d dropped a cabbage on his foot in Tesco, and I almost forgot my unease.
Especially when he finally accepted my point that he had no reason to be in Tesco, seeing as Glenys did all the cooking, and he had to confess he’d been buying chocolates for one of the Gruffydds.
Ben was laughing openly now, cheeks faintly flushed from beer and amusement, and I was absurdly pleased that he was here.
BEN
Everyone in the pub seemed to know one another, with the landlord, Gareth, stopping by for a chat as he cleared glasses at one point. But then the door opened and it was vaguely hilarious how out of place the newcomers looked. Humans, not dragons, dressed for a night out in the city.
Everything went very quiet for a moment as people in the pub stopped to look, then resumed their conversations, and the three newcomers made their way to the bar.
“This week’s Airbnb pickings,” Rhys said. He nudged Josh. “Guess you’re out of the running now you’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Are you five years old?” Josh shot back.
“Airbnb?” I asked Dominic.
“Some minor influencer stayed there—”
“Ray-Banned,” Megan filled in.
“Anyway, he raved about it for some reason and ever since then, it’s been fully booked, but when people get here, they find there’s absolutely nothing to do.”
“Except the locals. Especially Dominic,” Josh put in with a laugh. Then he looked at me, and the horror that filled his face was almost comical. “I mean…”
Yeah, he wasn’t going to rescue that one.
Luckily for him, I was aware of Dominic’s reputation.
And perhaps I wasn’t the only one, because all three of the newcomers were looking over at him.
Or maybe that was just the Dominic Effect.
He immediately leaned in and kissed me. Nothing too much for public consumption, but definitely more than a kiss between friends.
“They’re probably going to go looking for the castle tomorrow, and we’ll have to explain again that it’s private land,” Rhys said.
“I still don’t know what people expect to find up there,” Josh complained.
“Ghosts,” Megan said immediately.
“Drugs,” Dafydd countered.
“Dominic chained to a wall reciting poetry,” Rhys suggested.
“That’s only Thursdays,” Dominic said.
I nearly inhaled my beer laughing.
“Anyway,” Josh continued, “there’s barely anything left to see now. They’re a few centuries too late.”
“Tourists in the Middle Ages were just as exhausting,” I said.
That got everyone’s attention for some reason.
“Oh no,” Dominic murmured beside me, sounding delighted. “You’ve activated him.”
“Wait,” Megan said. “Tourists existed back then?”
“I mean, they called themselves pilgrims, but yeah,” I said.
“They’d buy cheap souvenirs, visit spas, and everything.
Philip the Good’s castle was basically a theme park.
He had one particular doorway with a machine that bonked you on the head when you walked through.
And then there was the mirror with a notice, ‘If you want to see what you look like covered in flour, look in me’.
And,” I said, pausing for a sip of my beer, “people actually fell for it.”
With everyone watching me instead of Dominic for once, I was surprised to find I didn’t mind being the centre of attention. I wasn’t shy, but I wasn’t the kind of person people gathered round to listen to. It was kind of nice, made me feel like I really belonged.
Somehow, we all ended up in a ten-minute-long argument about whether medieval people had been fundamentally more or less gullible than modern ones, during which Dominic contributed absolutely nothing except increasingly outrageous hypothetical examples involving trebuchets.
We left before last orders. Megan and Josh lived in the village, so it was just the four of us heading to the house.
As we staggered back, I realised that I’d had fun.
Not just a pleasant evening, or a nice time, but I’d laughed so hard at some points that my ribs were going on sympathy strike with Dominic’s bruises.
Dominic joined in the rousing chorus of Puff the Magic Dragon that Dafydd and Rhys had started. His voice was deep and clear in the cold night air, and suddenly I thought of his mother.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re not allowed biscuits in the records room.”
He almost held back his laugh. “Whatever you say, historian.”
“I’m not drunk,” I informed him.
“Clearly,” he said. And started singing again.
But as we made our way up the drive, the singing faded away. No one said anything; it was simply what happened near the house. Near Rhodri.
Dafydd and Rhys were through the front door ahead of us, and then I bumped into Rhys as he came to a complete, sudden standstill. “Flying,” he said, looking at Dafydd. “We need to fly.”
“Oh my God yes,” Dafydd agreed, and turned immediately to leave.
Dominic blocked their way. “No flying when drunk,” he reminded them.
“Rules are nonsensical.” It took Rhys a couple of attempts to get the word out. “You know that.”
“Hey,” Dominic said, somehow steering them away from the front door. “This one’s important. If you go off course even slightly, you might be seen. And that’s without the likelihood of you suddenly deciding you need another beer and landing in the centre of Cardiff.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” Rhys protested. “Cardiff’s miles away.”
“You probably would,” Dominic said. “But listen, it’s not worth the risk. Nothing’s worth the risk of getting dragons discovered. It’d change life for every single dragon and not for the better. Go watch some rugby instead—there’s the Australia match on in a few hours.”
“Oh my God, how did I forget?” Rhys looked at Dominic in absolute horror, then turned on Dafydd. “Why didn’t you remind me?”
But Dafydd was already halfway up the stairs, as if Dominic’s words had given him wings in human form.
“Fucking hell, Dafydd,” Rhys said, and bolted after him.
The house fell blissfully quiet after that. For a moment, only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the fading sound of Rhys thundering up the staircase disturbed the silence.
Dominic sighed beside me. “Honestly. Herding dragons is exhausting.”
And that was when I realised Rhodri was standing in the doorway to the study.
I had no idea how long he’d been there. The light from the study fell across one side of his face, leaving the other in shadow.
Dominic went still beside me.
For one awful moment, I thought this was it. Judgement finally delivered.
But Rhodri only looked at Dominic for a long second. Then he gave the slightest nod.
“Goodnight,” he said.
And turned back into the study, closing the door behind him.
Neither of us moved for a moment.
“Well,” I said eventually.
Dominic was still staring at the study door like he suspected it might reopen and unleash catastrophe after all.
“I think your father just acknowledged your existence.”
“That was probably a muscle spasm.”
I laughed softly. “No, seriously. He saw what you did.”
Dominic glanced sideways at me. “Persuaded two drunk muppets not to fly to Cardiff?”
“He saw you handling them.” I hesitated. “Looking after them.”
Dominic looked away almost immediately, shoulders tightening. “He probably thinks I got them drunk in the first place,” he muttered.
I raised my eyebrows.
A reluctant smile tugged briefly at his mouth. “Okay, I sort of did.”
“So how many times did you drunkenly try to fly to Cardiff?” I asked as we headed up the stairs.
He cast me a wounded look, all big, innocent eyes and a hand clasped dramatically to his unfairly accused chest.
“Three,” he admitted.
Yeah. That sounded about right.