“No, I’m not. Can you call in Bishop? I’m afraid I’m going to need his assistance.”
“Bien sûr,” Matthieu rushed to assure him. He dressed quickly, then went to get the Attendant. When they returned to the guest house, Matthieu and Bishop found Ian had managed to dress himself and was sitting on the side of the bed, but his color wasn’t good.
Bishop rushed to his side. “Master Ian, what did he do to you this time?”
That phrase made something dark and ugly roil inside of Matthieu.
This time.
How many other incidents had there been?
“It’s been worse, Bishop. He only got my leg, but I don’t have a lot of magic left, and I’m not fully healed. I’m going to need you to finish my packing, crate Lucian, and arrange for airport transportation. Can you help me?”
“Of course, sir,” the servant murmured. “Leave everything to me. You rest now, Master Ian. You, too, Master Matthieu.”
“No,” Matthieu stated. Bishop stared at him. “I’d rather help, if it’s all the same. I don’t need rest and Ian doesn’t need my presence. Direct me where you want me and allow me to contribute in some small way to this enterprise.”
Bishop looked at him for several long seconds, then nodded. “Alright. Follow me.”
When they were out of earshot, Matthieu asked, “This has happened before? How often?”
The beta said nothing and continued walking.
“I can keep secrets,” Matthieu added, tagging along. “And I know you can, as well. But he’s mine, now, if only for a time.”
Bishop stopped walking and gave Matthieu a look, but still said nothing.
“They are mine,” Matthieu amended. “Or I am theirs,pour l’instant.I need to know what I’m getting into. More than the obvious,vous comprenez?”
“It’s not my place to speak of such things, but take this piece of advice and do try to heed it—if you have any shred of caring for Master Ian, keep him in Aurora and away from his sire. Do you understand?”
“Oui.” It didn’t feel like nearly enough, but it would have to do.
* * *
They did not, to Matthieu’s surprise, fly in a private jet. Either the Topaz dragons didn’t have one, or Ian didn’t have access to it. He’d flown in a private jet with Geoffrey, his brother, his brother’s mate, an iguana, and two baby dragons from Toulouse to Paris, then to New York, and finally to San Francisco. From there, the plane had presumably flown to Aurora, while Geoffrey and Matthieu had ridden in the back of a black limousine up the coast to the Topaz estate.
For the return journey, they were bundled into another limousine, this one white, and driven back to the airport, but instead of driving out to one of the private hangers, the Attendant driver took them to departures, where he deposited them, their luggage, and a loudly honking crate.
A waiting porter took them, their luggage, and their noisy crate on a small open car through the airport and past several pedestrians. They were deposited at some sort of airport lounge, where Ian fed something to the noisy crate. After a time, the honking ceased, much to the relief of Matthieu and the rest of the occupants of the lounge.
“Is there a peacock in that crate?” Matthieu asked.
“Lucian,” Ian confirmed.
“Yes, we were introduced yesterday. Why have we kidnapped a peacock? It seems a strange sort of travelling companion.”
“Lucian travels well, and he gets mopey if I leave him at home. Sometimes I take one of the others, but of all the boys, Lucian is by far the best behaved.”
On cue, Lucian honked loudly.
“Damn,” Ian muttered, and fed another tidbit into the crate.
“What’s that?”
“Dried figs with embedded narcotics. They should put him out. I was hoping he’d be asleep by now. I suppose he’s just excited.”
Matthieu sat and contemplated the absurdity of his existence. Two days ago, all he’d wanted was to make it to his twenty-fifth birthday, move to Paris, go to law school, and fight for Attendant and Pedigree rights, and eventual liberation. Now he was a dragon consort to not one, but two dragons, flying commercial for the very first time, and in the company of a very noisy, drugged-up peacock. It was like he’d fallen into a novel written by Camus.
