Matthieu pressed a kiss to Geoffrey’s shoulder, then slipped out of bed. He stopped by the en-suite bathroom and drank water from the tap to tide him over, then dressed and brushed his fingers through his hair, taming it as best he could. Once he was somewhat presentable, he left the room, hands in his pockets, to see if he could find the kitchen.
Compared to Ian’s modestly decorated home, the Opal consulate was lavish. Överhogdal tapestries, carefully preserved behind frames, were displayed on the wall space between each of the rooms. Matthieu appraised them as he passed and decided from the make of the fibers that they were likely made between the ninth and tenth centuries—an unthinkably long time ago for most, but nothing more than the blink of an eye for a dragon like Snorre. Matthieu couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live a hundred years, let alone several thousand. The world had changed in innumerable ways since those tapestries had been woven—generations had come and gone, entire civilizations had risen and fallen, technologies discovered and lost…
In two thousand years, what would the world look like?
It made Matthieu dizzy to realize that one day, he might know the answer. With Geoffrey and Ian sharing pieces of their souls with him, his lifespan would increase to match theirs. He would age slowly and gracefully alongside them, and in thousands of years, they would face old age together. He had given them his freedom, and they had taken it and given it back to him a hundred times over.
How much couldheaccomplish in two thousand years?
The dizziness disappeared, joy taking its place. Without age restricting him, there was no limit to what he could do. All of the ambitious goals he’d imagined while trapped in the cloister weren’t only achievable—they were no longer enough. Matthieu could go to school, pass the bar, and fight to abolish the Pedigree all while bearing his dragons the clutches they desired. He could be a father and a fighter, a lawyer and a lover, and then set his sights on other pursuits.
Matthieu arrived at the consulate’s grand central staircase and came to a stop. Stephan, Snorre’s young, towheaded son, sat on the bottom step, his bubble pipe in hand. He blew enthusiastically, producing small bubbles that tumbled almost immediately to the floor. Matthieu, who had been taught nothing about children, found himself momentarily terrified.
Was a child that young supposed to be left on his own?
He was down the staircase before he could worry himself any more. If no one else would care for the boy, he would. He knew what it felt like to be all alone in a place that felt more like a palace than a home, and if, even for an hour, he could help Stephan feel a little less lonely, that would be enough.
Stephan tilted his head back and peered at Matthieu as he approached, his big blue eyes curious. Matthieu slowed and smiled, coming to a complete stop three stairs up from where Stephan sat.
“Hello,” Matthieu said.
“Hello, Daddy!” Stephan replied.
Matthieu parted his lips, momentarily speechless. “Erm…”
“Silly boy,” a kind female voice said from across the room. Matthieu looked in its direction and discovered Ingrid sitting nearby, a paperback novel butterflied in her hand. Today she wore a simple pair of black yoga pants and a comfortable sweater several sizes too large that revealed the delicate protrusions of her collarbones and emphasized her narrow shoulders. There was no doubt that she was beautiful, but Matthieu found it strange that an omega—especially one from the Pedigree, as he assumed Ingrid was—would wear such simple clothing. No cloister that Matthieu was aware of would have allowed an omega to dress like that when there were dragons nearby. It simply wasn’t done.
Ingrid set the book aside, then rose from where she’d been sitting and came to stand in front of her son. “You know that’s not your daddy.”
Stephan giggled. He stared up at Matthieu, a mischievous grin on his face, then hopped to his feet and attached himself to Ingrid’s leg. Ingrid laid a hand on his head, then looked at Matthieu and smiled. No matter how plainly she dressed, Ingrid was charming.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” she said. “He finds it hilarious to call everyone he speaks to ‘Daddy,’ whether they’re his father or not.”
“It’s okay.” Matthieu took another step down, fearful that Ingrid might think him rude if he kept too much distance between them. “I imagine that more often than not, he’s correct,non?”
“Mm.” Ingrid looked at her son and smiled. “In a way, I suppose. Our family dynamic is unlike many others.”
Matthieu couldn’t argue. It was rare for a dragon to take one mate, let alone two. Taking five defied expectation.
“Will you come with me?” Ingrid asked. “It may seem forward, but I’ve spent the last few days hoping that you might come down to join us. I really would love to talk to you so that we might come to know each other better.”
“The last few days?” Matthieu asked. “It’s only been about twelve hours,non?”
Ingrid furrowed her brow and pinched her lips together in thought. Then, with a crisp laugh, she shook her head. “I forgot how heat distorts time. It’s been three days since you arrived.”
Matthieu’s eyes widened. “Je vous demande pardon?”
“It’s like the old saying goes—time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?” Ingrid ruffled Stephan’s hair. He laughed and released her leg, then bounded out of sight. “Why don’t we go outside? We can talk beneath the trees. They aren’t fantastic conversationalists, but they keep secrets better than anyone else.”
With three days lost and nothing to do, Matthieu didn’t see the harm in accepting her invitation. He bowed his head.
“Wonderful.” Ingrid turned, gesturing for him to follow as she did. “There are some conversations better had in the quiet of the woods, and I can’t think of a soul I’d rather have them with than you.”
* * *
Stephan took off at a jog for a pair of conjoined pine trees, hopping between their grafted bases before scurrying as far as he could up the less steep of the two trunks. When he could go no farther, he grabbed onto a branch and pulled himself up, attaching himself to it like a cat might, had it discovered it had climbed too high. Fortunately, Stephan was not a cat, and he was easily within arm’s reach. Ingrid did not appear alarmed. She sat beneath a nearby deciduous tree and patted the space beside her. Matthieu accepted her invitation and sat.
“Our family has had several conversations about you over the last few days, you know,” Ingrid said. She crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her thighs, her attention focused on her son, but her speech directed at Matthieu. “Erik is concerned that your dragons will betray us to the council and that will be the end of us. I don’t believe that to be true. I think that you—the three of you—understand that there is strength in numbers. This may be the best chance we’ll ever have to open the council’s eyes to the truth.”
