Page 81 of Marrying the Savage

The boy nods, satisfied by my understanding of dragon ethics.

I crouch carefully, because borrowed dresses and dignity are natural enemies. “What’s his name?”

“General Pepper.”

“Strong name.”

“He has enemies.”

“Most generals do.”

The boy studies me again. “What’s your name?”

“Sofia.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You’re the wife.”

I freeze. Then I exhale through my nose. Apparently I am famous among the preschool demographic.

“That depends who you ask.”

He tilts his head. “Uncle Damir said you are.”

Uncle Damir. Interesting.

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

“What else did Uncle Damir say?”

“That I shouldn’t bother you.”

“You are doing an excellent job disobeying.”

“I was here first.”

“Fair.”

He looks pleased with that.

I sit on the edge of the rug because standing over a child while interrogating him about his terrifying uncle feels rude, even for me. The boy immediately hands me a wooden soldier missing one arm.

“This is Captain Luka,” he says.

“What happened to his arm?”

“Cannon.”

“Occupational hazard.”

“He still fights.”

“Good for him.”

The boy nods gravely. “He is not a coward.”

“No,” I agree. “Clearly not.”