Lips twitching in amusement, Matthieu said, “Your peacock. That is the right word,non?”
Geoffrey sighed heavily and Bishop stepped neatly into the breach, like the good butler he obviously was. “Of course, Master Matthieu. I’ll have a light repast sent.”
“Thank you,” Matthieu said with a nod to Bishop.
“If you’re quite done ordering room service,” Geoffrey grumbled, “follow me.”
“Excuse-moi, but does not the condemned man always get a last meal?”
Geoffrey gave Matthieu an exasperated look, then turned on his heel and embarked down a path leading from the front door around the back of the house. Figuring he had little choice, Matthieu followed. If nothing else, it looked like he would be fed. It was the first good news he’d gotten since breakfast.
“Lord Brand? I thought Americans don’t have titles.”
“You’re right—we don’t,” Geoffrey groused. “Sigric Brand got a patch of land back in the Stone Age and he’s never been able to let the title go. He doesn’t seem to understand that no one cares.”
You care,Matthieu thought, but said, “Naturellement. Do you come here often? You seem to be very familiar with the place.” Not to mention the occupants, avian or otherwise. What was up with that? Even Matthieu, who’d grown up shut off from the rest of the world in his cloister, knew that Topaz and Amethyst dragons abhorred each other.
Geoffrey eyed Matthieu suspiciously. “I’ve been here before, yes. As legal counsel for the Topaz clan, Ian Brand is my counterpart—we often have to interact.”
The dragon continued to blush.
“Bien sûr,” Matthieu said. “I understand.”
Only he didn’t.
Not yet.
But he would.
* * *
Matthieu sat and ate his delicious second breakfast of toast and jam, bacon, fluffy eggs, and fruit while listening to two dragons snipe at each other like an old married couple. He watched the show thoughtfully while chewing. It was an interesting argument, in that most of what was being said was not coming out in speech. The missing words were like silent screams. Matthieu couldn’t parse all of it, but the gist seemed to be that Matthieu now belonged to the blond dragon, Ian Brand, and Geoffrey was full of butt-hurt over it. Ian attempted to placate Geoffrey, and Geoffrey in turn burned with a flame of anger and resentment that Ian’s words couldn’t extinguish.
Before long, actual smoke began to curl out Geoffrey’s aristocratic nostrils, and when he spoke, small jets of flame escaped his mouth to emphasize whatever point he was trying to make. If he wasn’t careful, he’d burn down the guest house. Matthieu might not have minded, but he preferred to sleep in this small separate house over having to reside in the larger, gaudier building that no doubt housed the head of the Topaz clan.
One dragon was bad enough—a whole houseful would be impossible.
Taking a piece of toast, Matthieu stood and walked over to the two arguing dragons.
“I’ve already said what we should do,” the blond dragon reiterated. “I’ve told you over and over. It’s the only way.”
Matthieu wasn’t sure what the only way was, as neither man had stated it out loud, but he had a feeling it was something big and bad, because Geoffrey kept telling Ian that it was all impossible.
“Sargon isn’t ready. I keep telling you that.”
Ian snorted. “Sargon is ten times the age I was when I took over for my uncle. You don’t give him enough credit. He’s fully capable of being the Amethyst head counsel.”
“Meaning I’m not,” Geoffrey fumed. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. All you can see is your own ass, because of how far your head is shoved up it.”
Geoffrey recoiled. “I see,” he said again, but this time his tone was far different.
Ian ran a hand through his short hair. “No, you don’t. Stubborn ass. I’m right. You don’t want to admit it, but I am.”
“What you are is mad. I cannot just leave everything I know, and neither can you. There is nowhere to go. There is no corner of the planet that is safe. Ian, stop. Just stop. There’s no winning in this situation. We need to accept it and move on.”
“No! I will not accept it. Iwon’t.” A small jet of flame punctuated Ian’s words. Matthieu held up his toast as it came out. The butter on it, which had been spread when the toast was too cool, melted.
