Page 39 of Dragon’s Ending

Maybe I was gabbling, but he was so close. And he smelled so good. And his thigh was so muscly…

“I can’t believe Mortimer’s really interested in history,” Dominic said, picking up my pen to fiddle with it. “Maybe he’s trying to get your family to owe him a favour? But it doesn’t explain why he’s taken to meeting all the families’ heirs.”

“He’s what?” I said.

Dominic shrugged. “Both Heath Gruffydd and I got wheeled out last night. I just assumed he’s doing the same with other families, but maybe not.”

“I know you were the first family of Wales for centuries, but the Gruffydds were also pretty important, weren’t they?” I checked, and then heard my past tense. “Sorry. I meant are.”

Dominic huffed, seemingly unbothered. “No, you’re good. Faded grandeur is about all we have to offer these days. Plus a cellar full of gold.”

I didn’t know if he was joking.

“Mortimer was specific that he wanted us to concentrate our efforts around the sixth century,” I admitted.

He’d wrapped it up so cunningly that a lesser mind than Evelyn’s might not have noticed, but it had been clear to her where his interest lay. Which was why I was the one who was here. Richard was our Tudor expert, and Ellie knew everything there was to know about Georgian and Regency, but the early medieval period was my bag. Not mine alone, but Evelyn had sent me rather than the others because… Oh Lord, because she’d trusted me not to have my head turned by Dominic. And here I was, almost unable to think of anything else.

But that was okay so long as I didn’t do anything about it. And I wasn’t going to.

“What happened back then?” Dominic asked. “That was after the Romans, wasn’t it?”

“Invasions by the Angles, Saxons and Jutes, mainly,” I said, thinking once more of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s tales of those days, and his stories of the red and white dragons. “And King Arthur, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed dryly. “Who was a completely fictional character.”

“Not necessarily. Accounts vary,” I told him, in what may have been one of the greatest understatements I’d ever made. “I can take you through all the arguments for and against, but we’d probably still be sitting here three days from now.”

A smile tugged at his mouth, and he glanced around the room before fixing me with eyes that were suddenly warm. “Maybe save that for another time.”

Oh my God, shut up I told my heart. Which was intent on leaping around in a most disconcerting way.

“You said there’s a family tree showing all dragon families are descended from the Knights of the Round Table,” Dominic said. “Maybe Mortimer wants proof he’s entitled to be our leader. Maybe he thinks he’s descended from Arthur.”

“He’s not,” I said. “Not if the Talbot family tree is right. His family descends from Mordred.”

“Mordred,” Dominic repeated, his brow furrowing for an instant. “Wasn’t he the one who killed Arthur?” And before I could say it, he did. “Don’t tell me, accounts vary.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“So which family is supposed to be descended from Arthur, then?” His eyes were bright, as if this was the most fun he’d had in human form in an age.

“The Teagues, down in Cornwall.”

His brow wrinkled again. “I don’t know anything about them.”

“Not many people do,” I said. “They’re quiet, keep themselves to themselves. Evelyn said their heir has recently got together with one of Abimelech’s grandsons.” Which was beginning to look like careful planning. “Maybe Abimelech’s trying to cement his claim to his position as leader.”

Dominic was turning my pen over and over in his hand. “It looks that way, but honestly? From what I saw yesterday, he doesn’t need to. He’s—” He broke off and looked at me, an arrested expression in his eyes. “Rhodri was right. He’s trying to ensure his family keeps its position when he dies.”

That made a lot of sense. Abimelech’s power wasn’t solely down to his wealth and influence in the human world. It was also due to his reputation as a merciless and highly intelligent political operator—dragons respected him and feared ending up on his wrong side. His heir didn’t have any of that. In fact, I didn’t even know who he or she was.

Something else occurred to me.

“Dominic,” I said slowly. “Yeah, he’s got his family in with the Teagues, but what if that’s just the backup plan? What if he’s looking for proof that Mordred was the rightful king, not Arthur? Because that’s what some traditions say happened.”

“Well, fuck,” Dominic said, sounding winded for a second. Then he grinned at me, and he was so gorgeous my heart ached with it. “You know, this is the first time I’ve discussed conspiracy theories sober. It’s kind of addictive.”

I laughed, and glanced back down at the papers. Because if I kept looking at him, while he was so close that the heady scent of dragon-smoke and warmth and Dominic filled my lungs, I was going to do or say something disastrously stupid.