“The ocean?” Walter asked. “I think I'd like that.”
“I want to show you everything,” Grimbold replied. “Every single thing you've missed.”
Walter laughed softly. “I'm not sure there's enough time to show me everything, sir.”
A thought resonated in Grimbold upon hearing those words, and it plunged like a stone through the waters of his mind into the depths of his heart:if you were mine—truly mine—we'd have centuries.Grimbold longed for that. He wanted Walter with an intensity that he'd never felt with any other partner. But he wasn't sure it would be possible. The boy was too damaged, too skittish, and altogether too fragile. Grimbold was talented at fixing things, but he was afraid that in Walter's case, he might at last fail.
“Come. Let's go back. It's getting quite dark.” He called out for Beatrice and she came back to their side, limping only slightly, poor girl.
Back in the house, Beatrice jumped up and tried to lick Walter's face, but her arthritis made her clumsy and she knocked him back. Walter tried to recover but fell against a plinth that held a dragon carved from purple jade. The plinth rocked and the jade statue fell onto the marble floor. One wing snapped off the dragon entirely and the other cracked.
Walter, already fallen to the floor, tightened himself into as small a target as possible. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,” he moaned over and over while Beatrice slobbered on his face and neck.
Grimbold summoned a small amount of magic and set about repairing the dragon. The damage wasn't severe and it took little effort. The Ming vase one of Sebastian's whelps had broken last month had been far trickier. When the jade figurine was whole, he set it back on the plinth, then crouched down by Walter.
“Walter, hush, please. I repaired the dragon. Everything's fine. Open your eyes and see.”
Walter opened large blue eyes with their lovely copper rings. They were filled with fear. “And my punishment?”
Grimbold lightly stroked Walter's hair. At first the boy flinched, but then, as it became clear Grimbold wasn't going to hurt him, Walter moved into the touch and a slight smile formed on his face.
“No punishment,” Grimbold rasped. “It was an accident and I have brought all back to rights.” His hand moved down Walter's face to cup his soft cheek, only slightly roughened by a bare trace of stubble.
Walter made a small noise in his throat. Grimbold wasn't sure if it was surprise or doubt or even pleasure. He just knew he wished to swallow it down into himself. He leaned down, ever so slowly, and kissed the boy's lips. They were still sweet from the pastry he'd eaten for dessert.
“Sir?”
Grimbold moved back before the boy could tempt him further. “Good night, Walter.” He stood, then made a motion and Beatrice came to his side.
“Good night.” The boy touched his lips with a sense of wonder, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened and wanted to assure himself that it had.
Grimbold's spirits rose. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.
8
Wally
That night, with the memory of Grimbold’s kiss still on his lips, Wally lay awake in bed and watched the night sky through his open window. While he did, he traced circles on the flat side of the miniature dragon claw with his thumb.
What a day it had been.
Like Grimbold had warned him, a doctor had come to his lair. He’d poked and prodded Wally, examined him from the top of his head all the way down to his weak ankles, then set his hands on various parts of Wally’s body and done… something. Whatever it was had made the doctor’s hands glow and had taken away the usual aches and pains that Wally lived with on a daily basis. Then, job done, he’d looked at Wally with pity in his eyes and muttered an apology, to which Wally didn’t know how to reply.
While it had taken much of Wally’s courage to see the doctor and, later, to spend time with his oddly talkative mate, he’d still had enough stamina to attend dinner with Grimbold, and even to spend time with him after the meal had concluded.
Not once had he been insulted, threatened, or injured.
Not once had he been made to do something he didn’t want to do.
Wally set the claw on his chest and closed his eyes, focusing on the way it felt against his skin. Dragons were death wrapped up in human bones. One snap of their jaws could sever a man’s spine. Today, two such fearsome creatures had tended to Wally with care and concern. They’d been patient when Wally made a misstep, and they’d wanted to hear what Wally had to say. The doctor had even called Wally a tulip and meant it as a compliment.
Or at least, that was the impression Wally got. The nickname had come out of the blue and was, admittedly, strange.
Until recently, it had never occurred to Wally that what he’d been taught about dragons might have been a lie, but the longer he spent in Amethyst company, the more he came to believe that he’d been deceived. Even the Brand who’d captured him at the abandoned cloister had been kind. At the time, Wally had convinced himself that it was a ploy, but the more he learned of the world outside his small bubble of existence, the less he came to believe it was true.
Dragons weren’t bad.
Not all of them.
