“Same thing.”
“Is it?” Mabon looked between them. “The Council allows revelation to human mates. They have to. There are no Treasures left among the dragons. What other choice do we have?”
“I thought the revelation came after bonding,” Urien pointed out. “After the human accepts us, not before.”
“Sam can’t accept what he doesn’t know exists.” Mabon pulled free,frustration bleeding into his voice. “We’re caught in impossible logistics. Human courtship says to be mysterious. Dragon law says stay hidden. How do we bridge that gap without eventually just...telling him?”
The silence between them stretched. Then Rux laughed. “This is ridiculous.”
“Completely,” Urien agreed.
“We’re ageless beings arguing about flower arrangements and investment portfolios.”
“Don’t forget the dinner.”
“While our mate makes coffee and has no idea three dragons are losing their minds over him.”
Mabon felt his own mouth twitch despite everything. “When you say it like that…”
“It sounds insane,” Rux finished. “Which it is. But fine. Your plan works. Garden, money, dinner. If Sam doesn’t understand after that?” He spread his hands. “We tell him everything and hope he doesn’t run screaming.”
“Or call animal control,” Urien murmured.
“Or both.”
Mabon’s dragon settled, satisfied with finally having a clear path forward. “Right then.” He straightened his shoulders. “Urien starts today.”
Chapter Fifteen
Urien
This has to be stunning.Urien surveyed Dinetell’s public park at dawn on Thursday, mentally mapping where the design would go. The northeast corner got morning sun and decent drainage - perfect for what he had in mind.
He’d already filed the paperwork with the town council. One expedited permit, two thousand dollars in donations to park maintenance, and nobody asked why he wanted to plant flowers in geometric patterns.
Dragons had been bribing humans for centuries. That part of the plan wasn’t even creative.
Urien unloaded the first van full of supplies, his dragon humming contentedly at the prospect of creating something beautiful for their Treasure. The second van arrived an hour later, packed with mature plants he’d been nurturing for weeks in the estate’s greenhouses. Planning had its advantages.
By midmorning, he’d cleared and tilled the designated space. Tourists wandered past, watching him work. A few even stopped to ask questions. Urien kept his answers brief, focusing on the physical labor that kept his dragon’s restless energy channeled into something productive instead of circling Sam’s cottage.
The design existed flawlessly in his mind - twenty meters across, curving script visible only from a height. From ground level, it would appear abstract and decorative. But from above? The love in the gesture would be undeniable.
Friday brought clouds and the threat of rain. Urien worked faster, setting the first letter. Scarlet salvias formed the S’s upper curve. Golden marigolds defined the lower arc. He’d chosen varieties with different bloom heights, creating depth and dimension.
“That’s lovely,” someone called.
Urien glanced up to find Mrs. Channing watching from the path, her shopping bags dangling.
“Thank you.”
“What’s it meant to be?”
“Flowers.” Urien returned his attention to spacing the marigolds precisely. Each placement mattered. Too far apart, and the letter blurred. Too close and the colors muddied.
“Well, yes, obviously flowers, but…” She tilted her head. “Is there a pattern?”
“Everything has patterns if you look properly.”
