‘Find anything interesting?’
Atlas leans over my shoulder and I jump.
‘Not really,’ I say, slamming the book shut. ‘But thanks for bringing me here.’
‘You’re welcome.’
I turn round to look at him. He smiles, his lips raising on one side to form a dimple in his cheek. This time, I can’t help but smile back.
Who is this boy?
‘So why were you put in Zoology?’ I ask. ‘I mean, what did you do before?’
‘I bred horses,’ Atlas replies.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Horses are quite different to dragons.’
Atlas smirks. ‘They are. And they were never meant to be my career. My mother got me a job working in the stables of a lord, and he decided I had an eye for good bloodstock.’
Hugo Montecue’s father breeds racehorses for the First Class families of Sandringham. It’s a complicated job, requiring the study of genetics and veterinary sciences. To say it’s an unusual career for a Third Class boy would be an understatement.
‘So you don’t mind the genetic selection of desirable characteristics in horses, but you’re against it when it comes to dragons?’ I say.
I don’t know why I want to provoke him, but it works.
His lips purse. ‘Like you said, horses are quite different to dragons.’
Suddenly I can’t meet his gaze. I’m being rude, despite the fact that he volunteered to show me the library.
‘It was Father David who got me books on equine physiology,’ he says gently.
And now he’s being kind enough to continue the conversation.
‘Father David?’
‘Lord Lovat had a priest living next to the chapel on his estate. He became a bit like my mentor, I suppose.’
I nod. I really want to know how a Third Class horse-breeder mentored by a priest came to be at Bletchley, but I can’t say that in case he asks me a similar question.
I made a deal with a criminal dragon to save my rebel parents and broke the Peace Agreement in the process, I imagine myself saying.
Perhaps not.
‘So you’ll go back to the estate, if your category succeeds?’
Atlas shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve been a seminarian for the past year.’
‘A semi-what?’
‘A seminarian. A priest-in-training.’
I try to mask my surprise by clearing my throat, but inhale some dust from the book and end up coughing so hard that tears stream down my face.
‘Wow,’ I croak as Atlas’s mouth twitches again. ‘So Father David really got to you.’
Atlas lets out a deep laugh. ‘Why do you look so horrified?’
‘I’m not!’ I exclaim, trying to appear neutral. ‘I just didn’t expect you to be a priest.’
