Chapter Thirty-five
DOMINIC
Mortimer didn’t offer me a seat, and I didn’t take one. Too much adrenaline, but more than that—too much mistrust. He wanted to take Ben away.
“You know, it’s a fallacy to assume that because someone comes from a particular bloodline, they must have certain characteristics,” Mortimer said. Calmly, as if he were discussing the weather. “Yet dismissing the possibility entirely is as basic an error.”
I propped myself against the mantelpiece and watched him. As before, he wouldn’t be hurried, so I simply waited for him to get to whatever he was going to say.
“I had hoped that something of Bedivere might still be present in his descendants,” he said.
It was the kind of nonsense Ben and I had tossed back and forth, but neither of us believed it for a second. From Mortimer, for some strange reason, it didn’t feel like a joke.
“If he ever existed, it was centuries ago,” I pointed out. “Any bloodline would be completely watered down by now.”
“You’d think,” he agreed. “That’s certainly what I took from my initial meetings with your father.”
I moistened suddenly dry lips. Was he trying to get me to criticise Rhodri? Did he want our family to fight one another? To weaken us, make us easy pickings for the Mortimers?
“You know, Arthur trusted Bedivere with the symbol of his power, at the end of everything. And Bedivere proved himself worthy of that trust.”
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “If you’re looking for a model of virtue in me, you’re going to be hilariously disappointed.”
“Perhaps,” Mortimer allowed. “Perhaps not. I make it my business, Dominic, to acquaint myself with the strengths and weaknesses of every head of family and their heirs. I admit, what I heard about you was not reassuring.”
Well fuck you very much. “What you heard? From who? Nothing leaves this family unless Rhodri allows it.”
“From whom,” Mortimer corrected. “Educational standards these days are shocking.” He tilted his head slightly in invitation. “Do come and sit down. It’s like having a conversation with the leaning tower of Pisa.”
There was no point in disagreeing for the sake of it, so I straightened up from the mantelpiece and sat in what had been Rhodri’s seat.
“People know more than they realise, and they tell others more than they think they have,” Mortimer said. “I had heard you were volatile, immature, and reckless.”
I was glad I was sitting down, because it was easier to hide just how deeply that damning summary had cut. It was like being hauled in front of Rhodri all over again.
“What I have seen, however, suggests that you may be a little impulsive, with a penchant for levity and a desire to provoke.” His eyes held mine compellingly.
“But you are loyal, intelligent, have a shrewd political brain, and are capable of assuming authority when needed. Also, it has become clear to me that you are able to control yourself perfectly well even under emotional pressure.”
It took me a moment to put the pieces together. But when I did, I was furious. “You threatened Ben just to see how I’d react?”
“I believe being invited to accompany me to London is usually seen as a boon, not a threat,” Mortimer said.
Even though anger was still flickering inside me, I couldn’t help huffing a laugh at his utter shamelessness. “You wily old sod.”
“It’s been said.”
I relaxed suddenly. Not completely, because I needed to navigate whatever this was. I still didn’t understand what Mortimer wanted, and he was several steps ahead of me. But it wasn’t Ben he was after. Ben was safe.
“It appears your difficulty is not so much with control as it is with those who exercise it rigidly,” he said.
I snorted. He might as well have come out and said your father.
But I wasn’t sure he was right. Oh, he was right about my problems with Rhodri, but the rest of it?
I was unstable. My dragon came through in human form way more often than anyone else’s, even though I was in control enough these days to be allowed to mix with humans.
From careful questions that didn’t sound like questions, I’d gathered that no one else’s dragon was always so close to the surface.
It seemed to me that we’d been knocked out of balance when I was a kid and had, over time, negotiated a new one.
One that both my dragon and I were happy with, even if it wasn’t normal.
Mortimer regarded me steadily. “The current structure of dragon governance is too dependent upon singular authority,” he said calmly. “Mine most of all.”
That startled me enough that I actually said nothing.
“When I die, there will be instability.” Mortimer folded his hands loosely in his lap. “My heir is knowledgeable. But knowledge does not confer ability.”
Talk about damning. I felt sorry for his heir.
“So,” Mortimer continued, “I intend to establish a council drawn from the principal dragon families before my death. A structure capable of continuity independent of any one dragon.”
I stared at him. “You mean you’re recreating the Round Table.”
One corner of Mortimer’s mouth moved faintly.
“That,” he said, “is one way of looking at it.”
I rubbed a hand across my jaw. “That’s the most unhinged thing anyone has said to me this week,” I informed him. “And that’s allowing for the fact my boyfriend told me you were plotting to prove Mordred was the rightful king of Britain.”
“An imaginative young man.”
“He’s a menace.”
“So are you,” Mortimer observed.
I opened my mouth automatically, then stopped. Because annoyingly, that hadn’t sounded entirely like criticism.
“And you’re telling me this because?” I asked.
“I want you on this council.”
For an instant I actually gaped at him. Then reality reasserted itself. He must be having some kind of age-related psychotic break. Because that was totally a thing that happened.
“Sorry,” I said. “I think my hearing must be going.”
“Humour is useful, but there are moments when others must be able to see that you understand the weight of what is being asked of you,” Mortimer said. “You would be one of a select few dragons with responsibility for the safety of every dragon in this country.”
Yet again, I was glad I was sitting down. “You’re serious,” I managed.
He inclined his head.
Bloody hell. I wanted to ask what he thought he’d seen in me that could possibly have led him to this. But I didn’t want to give him that much leverage.
“Why?” I asked eventually. Why me? Why me?
“I think,” Mortimer said carefully, “that there are a number of strong, intelligent leaders among us. Those who also understand responsibility towards those less powerful than themselves are somewhat rarer.”
The room seemed suddenly still.
“Your father commands obedience,” Mortimer continued. “You inspire attachment. Those are not the same qualities.”
That was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, which was deeply unfortunate because it had come from a terrifying ancient dragon who’d threatened to kidnap my boyfriend.
“I don’t know,” I said at last. And I was being honest. That was possibly a bad tactic to use when talking to Abimelech Mortimer, but sod it—my mind was frazzled.
I didn’t know what I could bring to this council thing.
I didn’t know if I’d even be a member of this family this time tomorrow, let alone in the future.
“How—” I stopped myself. Asking if a dragon who’d been shunned by their family could possibly have a role would be to announce to him the problems in this family. And we couldn’t show weakness.
I took another tack. What if I weren’t exiled? “How would it work if a member of this council were to have, say, head of family obligations? How much time would it take? Would it meet physically? Where?”
I closed my mouth very firmly. The questions were spilling out as if I were really considering this.
“I have discharged both my head of family obligations and my leadership obligations without issue,” Mortimer said. “I cannot believe that anyone with shared rather than sole responsibility would be unable to balance the two.”
I heard the rebuke. But his eyes were extremely sharp on mine, and I knew he’d gleaned far more than I’d wanted him to from the fact my head of family status had been hypothetical.
“As for the rest, that is for the council itself to decide.”
The room fell silent, a weapon I already knew Mortimer used to devastating effect. I was still half-convinced I was having one of the wilder dreams of my life, but if I wasn’t… Did I want this? This level of sheer responsibility?
I already knew, deep inside. I did.
“There are going to be numbered agendas. And minutes,” I realised mournfully.
“So you’re willing to be part of this?”
“Possibly,” I said, “but I’ll need to talk to Ben before making a final decision.”
To get Ben’s take on the whole thing, on me being part of the whole thing, and because it was going to have an impact on our future.
Plus, Ben would probably want to know all the terms of reference and if there was a written constitution and all that kind of stuff.
Things that would never have occurred to me before I met him, and which I was deeply grateful I had him to worry about for me.
“How many dragons will be on this council?”
“I’m still deciding. I’m choosing them for their qualities, rather than to meet an arbitrary quota. My only stipulation is for an even geographical representation to avoid accusations of unfairness.”
He gave me the very faintest of smiles, announcing this conversation was over and that he was not displeased with how it had gone. “You may let your father back in now.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I opened the door. Ben fell into the room from where he’d been leaning against the door, and I caught him.
My head was still spinning from everything Mortimer had said, but I had Ben in my arms, and that was the most important thing.
BEN
Mortimer rose smoothly to his feet as I regained both my balance and what was left of my dignity.
“Well,” he said mildly, as though none of the last hour had happened. “Thank you for your hospitality, Rhodri. It has been a most illuminating evening.”
Illuminating for whom, I wanted to ask. Personally, I was completely confused.
Rhodri produced a small, polite smile. “You’re welcome to stay the night, of course. The roads are unpleasant in this weather.”
For one surreal instant, I pictured Abimelech Mortimer in one of the guest bedrooms, with Glenys offering extra towels and warning him about mice.
“A generous offer, but unnecessary,” Mortimer said. “My driver is waiting.”
Of course he had a driver. Dominic made a tiny sound beside me that suggested he’d had exactly the same reaction.
Rhodri held the study door open for Mortimer.
The house had grown quiet while we’d been in there, the rest of the family evidently vanishing somewhere safer than the vicinity of Abimelech Mortimer.
The grandfather clock in the hall ticked steadily through the silence as Rhodri held Mortimer’s coat for him to don, then we crossed towards the front door.
Outside, rain slicked the gravel, yellow beneath the lights spilling from the house. Waiting at the foot of the steps sat a cream Rolls Royce so polished it reflected Dragon’s Ending in its bonnet.
The driver appeared like a jack-in-the-box, climbing the steps with an umbrella already raised.
Mortimer paused before moving outside, and looked back at Dominic. “Goodnight, Dominic.”
Something about the way he said it made the hairs on my neck stand on end. He sounded pleased with himself, and I couldn’t see how that could be a good thing.
“Night,” Dominic replied cautiously.
Mortimer’s mouth twitched very slightly.
Then he disappeared into the car, the door shutting with a soft, expensive sound before the Rolls glided silently down the drive and vanished into the rain and the dark.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Rhodri and I turned towards Dominic at exactly the same moment.
He looked between us and visibly recoiled. “Oh, absolutely not,” he said immediately. “I need a fucking drink before whatever this conversation is.”
I folded my arms. “Dominic—”
“No.”
Beside me, Rhodri pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to need one as well.”