When I found Mia, she was yet again chatting to Ollie. His face was alight with enthusiasm, his well-shaped, welcoming lipscurved in a laugh and his eyes dancing as he said something to her. Everyone else here was deadly serious, reflecting how high the stakes were when meeting other families, but Ollie seemed to be having the time of his life. Something about that fact drew me to him, like a plant seeking water after going too long without.
What a stupid, ridiculous fancy. I blamed my dragon’s longing for copper and determinedly cleared my mind of such thoughts.
Ollie saw me before Mia did, and the smile that lit his face reminded me of the sun coming up over Avebury—warm and inexplicably captivating.
“I wanted to apologise for almost bumping into you last night.” His words were fast and self-conscious. He’d evidently realised, however belatedly, that an apology was in order.
“Better than taking out Silbury Hill, I suppose.”
Mia was staring at me, mouth open. She knew I didn’t do small talk, and I didn’t do humour. I had no idea how Ollie had drawn that comment from me.
“Is that what that mound I nearly flew into is called? What is it?”
“It’s at least as old as the stones. No one knows who built it or why, but when it was new, it would have been pure chalk—bright white and visible for miles.”
“Nowthatwould have been helpful last night,” Ollie said.
“Lunch?” Mia suggested.
By the time we were settled once more in armchairs at the bar with plates of sandwiches, Ollie was somehow still with us. That displeased me. I’d hoped Mia might have picked up some useful information when mingling, but I didn’t want her passing anything on in front of someone from a different family.
“The vote’s this afternoon,” I told her. “Then we can go home.”
“It was a long way for some people to come for two days,” she observed.
“Two days is probably as long as any of us can go without starting a fight,” I said, and she grinned. She was undoubtedly thinking of the way I’d butted heads with members of my family over the years. Dragons were stubborn and rarely backed down. Which was fine when there was only one, but it was a different story once a few of them got together.
There was a stir amongst the dragons in the bar as Margaret and Evelyn Berstow entered. It seemed that everywhere one of the Berstows went, people were queuing up to speak to them. I intended to follow up with them later, when our conversation wasn’t being listened to by half the dragons in the place. I’d spoken briefly to Evelyn, and she’d given me her phone number for that purpose.
“Glad to see you’re taking my advice, Ollie,” Margaret said as she passed us.
Ollie Shaw was on friendly terms with the head of the Teague family? It couldn’t have been her handbag after all. He came across as someone who, as he’d said, had tagged along to make up numbers. Perhaps there was more to him than I’d realised.
“Is that what this was all about, voting on those two things?” Mia asked me.
“Or perhaps it was actually about the meetings Abimelech Mortimer’s been having around the edges of the main meetings, and the vote was nothing more than an excuse to hold the moot,” Ollie said through a mouthful of sandwich. Horror crossed his face as he realised he’d interrupted me. “Shit. Sorry.”
“No, go on.” That sounded interesting. Olliedefinitelywasn’t what I’d thought him. He’d evidently been watching closely and thinking.
“It’s just, haven’t you noticed how Abimelech’s been targeting the Welsh families?”
No, I hadn’t noticed that. And it was my job to notice.
“Mortimers gonna Mortimer,” Mia said, and she and Ollie grinned at one another.
“What did you think of the old stones?” she asked Ollie before attacking a ham sandwich.
“Incredible,” Ollie said, and that look was back on his face again.
She stared at him, then chewed furiously and swallowed. “Like nowhere else you’ve ever known?”
He glanced up from where he was picking egg mayo off his trousers. “Yeah.”
Mia looked at me, her eyes brimming with laughter and something that looked disconcertingly like mischief.
“Would you mind if I joined you?” A naggingly familiar man in his forties stood there. “I’m Pete Smythe.”
As soon as he said it, I could see his likeness to June. It was an unpleasant reminder of what waited for me at home.
