“It’s stupid–”
“The things young men do often are.” His elbows landed onthe bar. “Anyone can see its important to you. She’s… important to you.”
My eyes narrowed. Was I that transparent? For a second, my childhood belief that my father was all seeing rose, but I shoved that back down again.
“Your little birds been chirping at you again, Father?” I asked. The man was a legend in Wyrmpeak, which meant a lot of people shared information with him.
“Not about you, lad.” A long sigh escaped him. “Anyway, I don’t need street gossip to tell me what ails you, not when I’ve still got eyes in my head. Who is she and what’s gone wrong?”
“Today?” My hand gripped the ceramic tankard way too hard. “She nearly died falling from her dragon’s back while we flew over the bay.”
“That’s your girl?” Dad straightened up, spinning around to stare openly. “The whole city is talking about what happened.”
“I suppose they would be.” My focus shifted to the beer, the foam looking all the world like clouds right now, making it easy to see it all play out again. “Male dragons fighting for a queen’s attention. A noblewoman thrown from the saddle.”
“It’s not her dragon that matters to you.”
A glance sideways revealed my father staring intently. That slight smile, it had the words spilling out, just as they had when I was a kid.
“No.” My hands raked through my hair as my eyes fell closed, because there was no way I could get this out, not while the sights of the tavern intruded. With one breath, then another, it all rose up. “I’m obsessed, Dad, and I’ve got no right to be. Don’t know much more about her other than her name, that of her dragon–”
“But you could describe her smile in more detail than the hilt of your own sword, and when you close your eyes at night, all you see is all the times she did, right before you think of new ways to please her.” My eyes widened as Dad went on. “Any time a fellow looks sideways at her, your hand goes to your weapon. You feel a violent urge to blind every man who dares to gazeupon her, even though you know why they do. Because there’s something about her that makes your heart twist in your chest. A feeling that would be bloody painful if you didn’t crave more. So, tell me more about this terrible dragon rider who can’t keep her seat.”
“Dad–!”
“She had your heart the first moment you saw her and you’ve been chasing your tail ever since, trying to make sense of it.” Dad took another sip of his beer. “So what is this paragon of feminine beauty’s name?”
“Fern.” I shook my head. “Lady Fern.”
“A highborn lass?” Dad’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Am I going to have to duel her father? Lords like sellswords plenty when they want personal protection. Not so much as sons-in-law though.”
“They tend to look more kindly on Royal Riders,” I replied with a smile, but it quickly faded. “But how did you know?”
I didn’t bother explaining what and he didn’t need me to. No one accused Brand Axton of being slow on the uptake.
“What you’re feeling about this girl?” he asked, lifting his mug in salute. Mine did the same. “What you’ve felt since the moment you met her? It was the exact same thing for me when I first laid eyes on your mother, boy.” His spare arm went around my shoulders and when he drew me into a rough hug, it all came back. Every time he stopped what he was doing and showed me, explained whatever was plaguing me at the time. My own arm went around his back, trying not to notice how thin he was now. “Axton men, they live the high life, using our natural charm to flirt with the pretty girls.” When he leered at a passing barmaid, her cheeks pinked, even if my father was three times her age. “But none of that helps when you find the one.”
His tankard landed on the bar with a thud.
“I miss your mother every day. Wake up in the morning, convinced I can’t make another twenty four hours without her smile, only to make it to evening, then have her haunt my dreams.”
I stared at my father, seeing the lines, the grey hair as if for the first time.
“You never said.”
“When she died, you were just a young lad, carrying the burden of your own grief. I couldn’t add to that. Then when you got old enough to discuss these things, you bonded with that Viridian. Didn’t need a father, not with the keep to look after you.” His lips pursed, then thinned. “Thought about it when you were rescued from that bitch’s dungeons.” His growl was an echo of mine. “But then you were off to run your own town. I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would.”
“I’ll always want to talk about Mum, old man.” Waving the barman over, I tossed some coins on the bar, ordering another couple of beers. “Why don’t you tell me some of your stories and I’ll…” When I exhaled, it felt like a whole lot more came with it. Tension, shame, guilt, they were all blown away, right as I took another sip of beer. “And I’ll tell you more about Fern.”
“Want some tips for romancing her from your old man, eh?” Dad shot me a rakish grin before tapping his tankard against mine. “I’ve got plenty. Did I tell you your mother nearly married Uncle Ray, not me?”
“No!”
That came out in a splutter of foam.
“He set his cap for my Rosie too, didn’t he?” Dad nodded. “Might be because she was his girl first.”
“What? You always told me the quickest way to end a friendship was by fighting over a girl.”
