Page 71 of Dragon’s Ending

Ben moved beside me. “If he does send you away, how long for this time, d’you think? Maybe it’ll just be a short, sharp shock kind of thing?”

I closed my eyes briefly. My steady, kind Ben, who couldn’t even imagine what Rhodri was capable of when he was truly angry. When there was no one to stop him.

“This one won’t be temporary, and it won’t just mean leaving Dragon’s Ending.” My voice didn’t sound like me. “This is permanent exile.”

Ben went very still. His eyes, fixed on mine, filled with horror. “That’s barbaric.” Colour drained from his face. “You’d be cut off from dragons…” He petered out. We both knew dragons weren’t made to be alone. “He wouldn’t really do that, would he?”

“Oh, he would.” I couldn’t bring myself to say “And he will,” because part of me was still hoping somehow that he’d… I didn’t think my father was familiar with mercy, but this was an irrevocable decision. Maybe he’d give me more time to make things right. To be a better Bedwyr, a better dragon. The fact he hadn’t immediately announced my exile wasn’t much of a hope, but it was all I had.

Time passed, and I slowly became aware of my body once more. My arse was getting cold on the uncomfortable stones, and I was still breathing, without conscious decision.

“If he does,” Ben’s voice was low and fierce, and he was gripping my hand so tightly I thought he might break some bones, “if that happens, then you’re coming home with me.”

“To spend the rest of my days studying dusty old books?” I asked, because if I didn’t make light of his offer, I’d cry.

Ben’s head of family would never take me in. It couldn’t happen, but I loved him all the more for believing it could.

I pulled him into a hug so he couldn’t see my face, and held him tight.

Eventually, even holding Ben wasn’t enough to stop me noticing that the wind up here was bloody freezing. I drew a long breath and let go of him. “Guess we’d better get back.”

Avoidance wasn’t going to change anything. And I was growing sick of being driven out of the house by my own emotions. Let me at least wait for Rhodri to do it for real.

Ben was quiet as we picked our way back down the hillside, but I could see that little crease between his eyes, and I knew he was thinking about something.

Eventually, I cracked. “What?” I asked him.

“What d’you mean, what?” he asked.

“You’re thinking, historian. I want to know what about.”

“Oh, nothing really.” He paused, and I waited patiently—well, fairly patiently—for him to spill. “Just that I should pack up my stuff in case your father kicks me out, after the way I spoke to him. And then, if he doesn’t do that straight away, I was working out which of your records were the most important to digitise so at least I’ll have something when I leave.”

“You’re not leaving,” I said immediately. Even the idea of it felt wrong.

“No, but if,” he said.

“No. Not happening.”

“But—”

“Oh, he’s going to want to throw you out. But he can’t. Not when you’re here because Abimelech Mortimer wants it. He might treat you like a disrespectful wyrm and never speak to you again—count your blessings on that one, by the way—but you’re not going anywhere.”

He nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.” And then he shot me a sideways glance.

“What?” I demanded when he said nothing.

“Maybe you should put some stuff together too, just in case?” I don’t know what he saw on my face, because he swiftly added, “You know that if you do have to leave, I’m coming with you.”

I kept my eyes on the horizon because they were burning, and I didn’t want him to see that.

“But then, I don’t think Rhodri would do that without giving you time to pack,” he mused. “He’s cruel, but he’s not petty.”

The words hit strangely enough that I stumbled. I’d never heard anyone talk about my father like that, and I didn’t know what the hell to make of the assertion he was cruel. So I decided to ignore it.

“You want to grab something to eat from the kitchen?” I asked. He’d been starving earlier.

He shook his head. “Think I’ve lost my appetite.”