Wally breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been sure the note would mention he’d been caught being bad, but it had said no such thing.
It was unusually nice.
Wally raked his teeth over his lower lip and traced the stylized G with his thumb. Grimbold hadn’t needed to write to him—Carsons could have written the note as easily. So why had he done it? Why waste time on a Disgrace who dared push his boundaries and who couldn’t keep the silverware on the table?
Tender, understated affection rippled through Wally. This time, he couldn’t blame the wine.
He could find Carsons and appear for dinner on time. It felt like the least he could do.
* * *
An assortment of artfully decorated éclairs occupied the dainty silver tray at the center of the dining table. Wally couldn’t look away. The éclairs he’d been served every year on his birthday had been identical in form and content—airy, golden pastry filled with some kind of vanilla cream and topped with a thick, glossy strip of chocolate that always stuck to the roof of his mouth.
The éclairs on the tray weren’t like that.
Every single one of them was unique.
Sky-blue icing with a mirror glaze decorated with luscious curls of white chocolate topped one. Thin, glossy dark chocolate adorned with spherical, gold-covered baubles of varying sizes—likely edible—topped another. One had a chocolate glaze that was vividly maroon and speckled with raspberry crumble. Yet another was covered with coconut and had tiny nests of spun sugar on top.
In total there were eighteen of them. Wally’s mouth watered. If given the choice, he wasn’t sure which one he’d want to eat first. All of them looked delicious.
“Are these agreeable, Walter?” Grimbold asked. He sat not at the head of the table, but in a chair only one place away from Wally’s own. Dinner, which had been salmon sashimi served over seasoned rice with a seaweed salad, had been nice, but Wally would be lying to say that he wasn’t still hungry.
An éclair would sate his hunger.
Two would be even better.
Before he could get lost in fantasy, Wally inclined his head and answered Grimbold’s question, “Yes, sir.”
“Will you eat one?”
Wally swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He wanted to eat one badly, but he still wasn’t sure that it wasn’t a cruel trick. “Yes, sir.”
Everything was still and silent for a moment. Grimbold peered at Wally. “Will you eat onenow?”
Wally pursed his lips and looked at the spread before him. If he weren’t bound by draconian rule, no éclair would be safe. Unfortunately, he lived in polite society, and diving headfirst into a tray of éclairs was generally frowned upon. “Yes, sir.”
Wally selected the éclair with the sky-blue topping. The pastry was perfectly cooked, the outside slightly firm while the inside felt light and airy. As far as he could tell, no trickery had gone into its construction, but the way Grimbold kept a steady eye on him made him doubt that the éclair was as innocent as it appeared.
Knowing that he was in no position to deny a dragon’s request, Wally took a small bite. The crisp pastry was complemented by its sweet, creamy topping, and was neither bland, nor overly sweet. A hint of blueberry crept in at the end, and Wally had to hold back a moan of delight. The éclairs in his cloister had never tasted so good.
There was silence while Wally chewed, and more of it when he swallowed. When he had finished his first bite, he lifted his gaze from his dessert to find Grimbold studying him.
Wally’s lips twitched, but he didn’t frown.
“Well?” Grimbold folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. It was an improper thing to do, but Wally supposed that as it was Grimbold’s lair, he was free to do whatever he liked.
“It’s very good, sir.” Wally set the éclair on the plate in front of him and longed to lick his sticky fingers, but dared not. While Grimbold was allowed to defy the rules of etiquette, Wally was ever bound by them, and etiquette dictated that he should more specifically compliment his dragon’s offerings without coming across as glutinous. Summoning all his courage, Wally continued. “Your cook is every bit as talented as you said. I like the silver tray she chose to serve on. In the cloister, we were given a plastic tray with compartments that held each éclair individually. This presentation is much nicer.”
Grimbold’s temple twitched. “A plastic tray?”
“Yes, sir.” Wally nodded earnestly and lowered his gaze, certain he’d done something to displease his new keeper. “A new one was brought in each time one of the Pedigree celebrated a birthday. There would usually be six to a tray, not eighteen, so the birthday boy or girl would get to decide who to share the éclairs with, since not everyone could have one.”
“Christ,” Grimbold muttered. Wally glanced up in time to witness him rub his mouth, a disagreeable look on his face. When Grimbold’s startlingly purple eyes met Wally’s, Wally quickly looked away. It didn’t stop Grimbold from addressing him. “Walter?”
Wally winced. “Yes, sir?”
“Tell me the truth, boy. Don’t lie just to please me. Did you enjoy what you just ate? You won’t get in trouble for speaking your mind.”
