Time has frozen.
Then someone snickers. “I like your pet. Can he dance?”
“Yeah,” someone else calls out. “Can he do tricks?”
Valen growls, jerking back.
“Behave,” I mutter and tug on the leash, glancing at him over my shoulder, telling myself sternly not to run at the low, hair-raising sound from my nightmares.
“Iambehaving.”
I start walking toward the manor, pulling him along. “Just ignore them.”
“It’s not in my nature to ignore vindictive little assholes.”
“That’s what being civilized is all about.”
“Oh? I thought it was about upholding the virtues of justice and freedom, but what do I know, right?”
Jerking as if burned, I struggle to hide my surprise, because dammit, he’s right. What we call civilization around here is a game of play pretend.
That doesn’t mean that it’s not a hard game to play, or that it doesn’t matter. We’re still trapped in this strange circus where we have to follow the rules.
I’ve been trained in etiquette all my life, but can a wolf learn new tricks?
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSAMUND
Packing your entire life away into three trunks, with a tall werewolf breathing down your neck, is as stressful as it sounds. My hands shake as I pick up book after book, knick-knack after knick-knack from the shelves of my room, my mind all over the place.
“What about the painting your cousin made for you?” Della asks.
It’s hanging over my bed and has done so since I was little. Orlen is very talented, and he painted for me a small dragon, calling it Remi, after the darakin in the story of Jaien and Aethre.
“I’ll have to send for it later. Have you seen my copy of History of Dragon Kins? And what about my drawing album?”
“It was somewhere around here, I’m sure I saw it.” She taps a finger against her lips. “Have you seen it, Bert?”
Bert, standing guard at the door, shakes his head.
“You’re not paying attention,” Della grumbles. “What are you doing here, pretending to be a pillar, holding up the roof? Or thinking of the kitchen maid you fancy?”
“It’s fine, Della,” I say absently, patting the golden locket hanging around my neck.
“What’s that?” Valen growls from behind me, and I start.
“None of your business.”
“Only, you’re going to be my business until we reach your new abode, aren’t you?”
“No,” I mutter irritably. “Youare going to bemyproblem.”
He laughs, that dark, pleasant chuckle I feel all the way to my core. “Well. Going to be a big problem, then. My height is a good measure of the size of my di?—”
“Mind your language,” Della snaps at him, and I glance at her, surprised. She’s even shorter than me, but doesn’t mind yelling at the tall, muscular man who can turn into a beast.
And Valen stares at her as if she has sprouted another head. He makes a sound behind the muzzle. “You can’t keep coddling her,” he finally says.
