I raked my hand through my hair. I thought I could trust him, but if I was wrong, he’d tattle to his family, and before long, every dragon in the country would know the truth about mine. Even so, something deep inside urged me to believe in Ollie.
I just hoped my instinct was right.
OLLIE
I was wondering whether I should leave, if Archer didn’t want me here after my intrusive question, when he sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the canopy above us.
“There’s a fault line running through the family, and I can never be sure which side anyone’s on at any given time,” he said.
“You mean—” It sounded so impossible that I hesitated. “Some of your family want someone else as the head?” I’d never heard of such a thing. Dragons didn’t do democracy. Family heads were there by birthright. It was just the way it was.
“There was a challenge about four centuries ago when a family member claimed they were the true head. It’s complicated by the fact all accounts are word-of-mouth. You know what dragons are like—we daren’t write down anything explicit in case it gets found by humans. From what I’ve gathered, when the old head died, the younger son claimed to have been born before his twin. He produced a woman who said she’d assisted the midwife at the birth. She swore the first-born son had looked so unhealthy, they’d declared the second one to have been born first so he’d be the heir. Of course, the twins’ mother and the midwife were both dead by that point, so no one could corroborate or deny. Which, if you believemyside of the story, makes it look as if the pretender waited until that point before making his claim.”
“But you’re the real head, aren’t you?”
He shrugged slightly, and when he turned his head on the pillow to look at me, a rueful smile twisted his lips. “Believe me, sometimes I wish I weren’t. But yes, I think that I am and so this is my duty. To put right what my—” he broke off abruptly.
Isowanted to know what he’d been about to say, but I knew better than to ask because his eyes had grown dark and sad.
“If you held a dove in your blacksmithing tongs, could you dunk it in a pot of paint to dye it?” I asked the first thing I could think of to change the atmosphere.
His laugh sounded choked as he rolled over and pulled me into his arms. He held my face against the breadth of hisshoulder, which was very, very nice, but which also prevented me from seeing his expression.
“Sounds like it’s all-out war between you and the doves. I’m staying neutral.”
He kept to that position, though I tried to persuade him using every trick I knew. No matter what inducements were on offer, Archer never lost sight of his overall objective, even when he was panting and groaning under me. It was both admirable and annoying. And it told me a lot about his character.
Chapter Twenty-five
OLLIE
The following morning, I planned to help Tim as I usually did. But instead of the smile he’d taken to offering me when I arrived in the kitchen garden, he ignored my greeting.
“Hey,” I said, thinking he hadn’t heard me.
He straightened, and the immobility of his face was pure Archer, hiding what he was feeling. “You lied to me.”
“I did? When?”
“You said you weren’t screwing my brother.” His eyes were oddly bright in the gloomy morning.
“That’s because I wasn’t then,” I said. “We’re together now, but Archer said he wanted to be the one to tell you, and also, how am I supposed to openthatconversation with his younger brother?”
Tim looked up at the sky and swallowed, and I realised that brightness looked like unshed tears. “Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice slightly thick. “Grab the hoe, would you. The rhubarb bed’s out of control.”
I grabbed the hoe and tackled the rhubarb bed. But as I attacked some blameless weeds, I was thinking about Tim. I hoped he and Archer could sort out whatever their problem was because it looked like they were as upset as one another over it. If only they’d tell eachotherthat.
I steered away from any mention of Archer as we worked, though it was difficult. I was in love, and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Instead, I kept to neutral topics of conversation. Unlike previous mornings, this one seemed to drag. I was counting the minutes until I could see Archer again. This morning, after he’d fucked me, he’d kissed me for whatfelt like hours. “I don’t want to work. I want to stay here with you,” he told me afterwards, and my heart had flipped over in happiness.
“Do you ever take a day off?” I asked him curiously.
“I’ve never had a reason to,” he said. His grey eyes were warm as he looked at me. “Until now.”
I hugged that to myself all morning as I worked.
Mia had made pasta and salad again for lunch, though she’d evidently burned something at some point because the kitchen was filled with an acrid smell.
“I’ll take it,” Tim said as he spotted Archer’s plate already laid out, and he was out of the door before I could protest. I was bitterly disappointed not to have an excuse to see Archer, but I knew I mustn’t interfere if Tim and Archer might actually be going to talk.
