Chapter 9 #2
Haldir grumbled, “Trevelyan should leave, not me.”
Valenna held up her hand. “I’m here to pick a new dragon master. Let’s proceed and pretend this didn’t happen.”
“Come now, Hal, Miss Castanaia is here to pick a dragon master,” Evander said with a tight smile as he picked up his bread and tore it in half with a touch of ferocity. “Let’s stop acting like animals so you can tell her about your qualifications.”
Haldir stared at Evander, a muscle in his cheek ticking, then he said, “And you think you have more qualifications than I do? Is that it? Well, let me tell you …”
“You’re not trying to convince me,” Evander interrupted. “You’re trying to convince her.”
Haldir huffed a laugh and tried to gather his charm again. “Very well. I hope you have time. I’ve got quite the resume.”
“Do you?” Valenna asked irritably.
“Are you angry with me?” Haldir smiled apologetically. “It was a misunderstanding. I misread you. I’m sorry if you were offended.”
A perfect non-apology. Valenna bristled, her hands clenched in her lap.
She tried to lift her arm, but a sharp pain pricked her, and she let out an involuntary gasp.
A small vine twined up her wrist, its tiny thorns piercing her skin.
She ripped her hand free, leaving bleeding scratches from her wrist to her knuckles.
Quickly, she pressed her napkin over the scrapes.
Valenna’s heart pounded in her chest. Had anyone seen? Her hand was concealed under the table, but what if someone noticed? She glanced at Evander, who was watching her, his brow furrowed, his head tilted inquisitively.
“I’m thirty-two,” Haldir continued, spreading his legs and taking up enough space for three people. “That’s seven years older than Trevelyan.”
Evander raised his eyebrows in mock veneration. “The keepers respect me.”
Valenna looked at Evander, who was chewing slowly, laughter in his eyes. He looked like a child at a Punch and Judy show.
“And what is the first thing you would do as dragon master?” Valenna asked. She still clung to a tattered hope that Haldir just made a bad first impression and she could somehow justify appointing him to the dangerous position instead of Evander.
“Well …” Haldir’s smile sagged, and he looked like he was mentally feeling around in a cluttered kitchen drawer in the dark. “I would … what really is the job of the dragon master? To bring in more money, of course. And to keep this dracorium moving forward.”
He seemed to like the phrase ‘moving forward,’ and he latched onto it. “We’ve always got to keep going, and to keep … to keep moving forward toward the … the future.”
“You’re so good with words, Hal,” Evander said, cleaning his glasses with a napkin.
Haldir continued, unheeding. “Isn’t that important for everything in life? To move in a forward direction and never … never back! No, always going upward and never backward. Momentum. We must maintain our momentum.”
Oh dear. As she’d suspected, Haldir was an idiot. A gorgeous idiot, but an idiot just the same.
“Momentum is what we must maintain,” Haldir blustered.
Evander rested his arm on the table and leaned over it. “Yes, Haldir, but in what specific way do you believe we should gather or maintain momentum?”
“Yes,” Valenna said. “What is your plan for the dracorium? In the next five years, especially considering the breeding crisis?”
At first, Haldir looked disconcerted. Then his face lit up, and he said with self-satisfaction, “First, I would sell the hydra.”
Thomasina gasped. Evander choked on his bread and turned away, coughing into his elbow.
“I was under the impression that the hydra was a private pet and didn’t belong to the dracorium,” Valenna said, watching Evander nervously. As long as she’d known him, Hera had been at his elbow. He’d raised her from an egg. She couldn’t imagine Evander without Hera.
A malicious grin marred Haldir’s face. “It’s been eating our hay, sleeping in our barn, draining dracorium resources. Either it belongs to the dracorium, or Trevelyan here owes thirty thousand kibs to the queen.”
Valenna realized that Haldir was the worst type of fool: a devious fool.
Evander composed himself, clearing his throat. “Hydra aren’t vicious. They can’t be taken into combat.”
“They’re the national symbol of Ashkendor. There are countless legends of kings and queens riding them into battle …”
“Those are legends,” Evander interrupted. “They’re stories. Nothing more. Hera will fetch a good price, but she will create chaos on the battlefield, and whoever buys her will be furious, so what’s the point? It’s bad business.”
Waving Evander’s comments away, Haldir continued. “Let them be furious. We can’t lose their business. Where else can they get trained battle dragons?”
“And what will you do when you get fired because her new owner demands reparations?” Evander said with an incredulous laugh.
“What do you know?” Haldir snarled. “You’re just a woodcutter’s bastard from the plains.”
Evander’s jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath. “The hydra isn’t for sale.”
“She will be when I’m dragon master.”
Evander stood. “I think I’ve had enough scintillating conversation for one night. Have a lovely evening, Miss Castanaia.”