over the garden, not seeing it at all. He’d hoped he could simply prove himself a pleasant guest, take some wine with the dragon, maybe crack a few jokes, and then — ask for what he needed. It was to save a child’s life, and who could argue with that?
But that plan was clearly a failure. He’d had one chance to speak to Lord Fiora, and he’d blown it — badly enough that Lord Fiora was obviously determined never to be in the same room with him again, even if he had to avoid his own dining room until doomsday.
Perhaps he enjoyed eating alone in the dark, the berk.
Or perhaps Deven was being an asshole for making fun of him, even in the privacy of his own mind. Lord Fiora was a tad overdramatic — more than a tad — but he wasn’t hurting anyone with his cloaks and his pronouncements of destiny.
And really, all of his speculation on Lord Fiora’s eating habits was silly and useless, and he was indulging himself to avoid facing the facts: he had to find another way to get close to Lord Fiora, and seduction was starting to look like the only option left. Flattery, and a sincere apology, and hopefully getting a look at Lord Fiora’s face, because if he didn’t, he could hardly gauge the success of his overtures, now could he? Being able to satisfy his own wild curiosity would be a side benefit.
Focus. He needed to focus. The thought of taking someone to bed for any reason other than honest mutual pleasure struck Deven as disgusting, but he had to face it head-on. Trying to befriend Lord Fiora had failed. And why shouldn’t it have? Deven didn’t have much to offer besides his skills in the bedchamber. Mrs. Drucker was right. He could charm the pants off of anyone. It was charming them into having a conversation once the pants went back on where he failed. He couldn’t even manage to chat with Andrei over dinner for a few nights, for God’s sake.
And who in Ridley, besides his aunt and uncle and little Peter Holling, ever spent more than five minutes with him without either walking away or taking off their clothes?
No one. Even here in the castle, where no one knew him or his reputation, only Mrs. Pittel had shown any interest in his company. And even she mostly cooked while Deven flirted with her staff — who’d spent more time hinting that Deven could take off their clothes than really talking to him.
So. Seduction. He’d play to his one strength, and hopefully save Peter’s life. Maybe it was dishonest, but he swore to himself he’d at least do his best to make it fun for Lord Fiora. Deven was good in bed, after all. He’d flirt and charm his way into Lord Fiora’s billowing cloak, give the man the best orgasms of his life, ask nicely for a scale, and be on his way. No harm done to anything or anyone except Deven’s pride.
And that sounded…well, not great, but at least workable, if only Deven could find Lord Fiora to charm.
Deven left the terrace and ventured out into the garden where he could have a better view of the castle as a whole. Where did Lord Fiora spend his time? It was a large place. There could be any number of suites of private rooms where the dragon could hide himself away, avoiding crossing Deven’s path completely. Deven could hardly wander every tower and corridor of the place, trying doorknobs and poking his nose everywhere and raising suspicion.
He had to narrow it down. Deven tipped his head back and studied the towers, with a sudden burst of inspiration. Deven had walked all the way around the outside of the castle quite a few times over the last week, and he hadn’t seen any signs that a large, scaly dragon with heavy claws had been there on the regular. That would have left distinct marks on the ground, marks that were absent. Lord Fiora flew often in his dragon form. So where did he take off and land, if not in the castle grounds?
A tower made the most sense. It was high enough that the dragon wouldn’t smack into any other part of the castle or knock bits off with his tail, and private enough to be attractive to a dragon of Lord Fiora’s temperament.
The castle had six turrets. Damn it. Deven could hardly climb each one looking for