Page 84 of Dragon’s Ending

I nodded awkwardly and left him, feeling strangely shaken. My opinion of Rhodri hadn’t changed, but now, against my will, I could see that what made him appear monstrous was armour. There was still a man in there somewhere.

It changed nothing. Dominic was still living beneath the weight of Rhodri’s fear, grief and impossible standards, whether either of them understood that or not.

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.