Deven and the Dragon - Eliot Grayson Page 0,18

not fair that I’m doomed to — to look like a weakling in human form, and to be alone. Forever.”

Andrei turned back to stare Fiora in the face again, his eyes unsettlingly sharp. “My lord. I’m trying to follow your train of thought, incoherent as it is, but I keep coming back to one common thread. Are you truly fussing over what this fellow thinks of you?”

“I’m not fussing!” Dragons did not fuss, thank you very much. They brooded, in solitary and majestic dignity — and yes, occasionally while complaining to their stewards while hiding in a closet spying on handsome men. But mostly when sitting atop a turret under a cloud-obscured moon, contemplating the futility and sorrow of life. “And I don’t care what he thinks of me.”

Perhaps he ought to have led with that, he realized, as Andrei smiled again. Openly, this time, and triumphantly, as if he’d maneuvered Fiora right where he wanted him. Oh, bother.

“Then you’ll straighten your cravat and come to lunch, my lord.”

And yes, that was checkmate, to a degree — but damn it all, Fiora was still lord of his own castle.

“Not lunch. It’s daytime. One can’t be mysterious in the daytime. Dinner. No, after-dinner drinks. No, after that, in the garden, perhaps? I think the shadows will flatter me.”

Andrei sighed and shook his head. “As you wish, my lord. But,” he added in a tone that brooked no argument, “you will not push this off until tomorrow with some other excuse. You need to speak to him and begin to discover what purpose he has in coming here, because I guarantee he has an agenda of his own. Or orders from that absurd town council, or both.”

With that, he stalked out of the room, muttering about the courtesies due even to unwanted guests who might be thieves.

Fiora tried his best to fight his way out of the corner Andrei had painted him into. Dinner came and went, with Andrei coming up to the turret roof to report that Deven had enjoyed his ham and greens and sipped his wine appreciatively. Andrei also mentioned that Deven had slipped into the kitchen afterward to thank the cook — and charm her and all of the kitchen maids.

“And don’t sulk about it,” Andrei said with terrifying insight. “I’m sure you would have enjoyed his company too, if you’d only gone to dinner like an adult. My lord.”

Sulk? Like an adult? How dare Andrei speak to him like that! He attempted to stand upon his dignity, but ultimately allowed himself to be chivvied into a fresh cravat. If he also changed into the black coat that was perfectly tailored to make him look elegantly slim, rather than just thin — well, he was a lord, and liked to look the part.

Fiora turned back and forth in front of the trio of tall looking-glasses he had set at angles to one another in his dressing room. How could it be bloody possible to spend so much on a set of mirrors and still not be able to have a good view of his ass? A cloak. He needed a long cloak, with a hood, something sinister and flowing.

Something that hid his (he suspected) too-flat ass.

Andrei snorted as Fiora took the cloak from its hook, but otherwise kept his opinion to himself. The snort was already too much, anyway.

And there. By candlelight, Fiora made an enigmatic figure, dramatic and romantic and possibly just a little terrifying, even if in miniature. He nodded in satisfaction and then reminded himself not to do that again, because an enigmatic hooded figure bobbing its head looked ridiculous.

“You told him that his host would meet him in the garden for an evening stroll?” Fiora confirmed, possibly for the fifth or sixth time. “I won’t be waiting out there like an idiot while he flirts with the stupid kitchen maids?”

“I understand our kitchen maids are actually quite intelligent,” Andrei said blandly. “They fleece me every time we play cards, anyway.”

“That is so not the — I’m not going. I’ve changed my mind. You can spy on our — our spy, yourself, and anyway, I don’t want to!”

Andrei only leveled him with a look, and although Fiora sputtered and protested, he found himself going down the stairs, the cloak nearly tripping him more than once. He stopped short of clinging to the banisters and begging Andrei to let him stay upstairs. Barely.

The curse hung heavy in the back of his mind. Not that he knew