AGNES
It happened sooner than anyone thought.
Three days. It had been three days of carefully orchestrated Graham Watch rotations, of quick showers and taking the long way around the loch, and of Lachlan’s insistence that we all had Graham’s live location on our phones so we could track his movements like he was a particularly troublesome toddler prone to wandering into traffic.
Three days of pretending everything was fine while we waited for the other shoe to drop.
I woke up in my bed, tangled in my duvet, with the soft light filtering through the door from a light left on in the hallway. For a moment, I just lay there, enjoying the warmth and the solid presence of Graham beside me.
Then Quilliam landed on my chest with all the delicacy of a small, scaly bowling ball.
“You snore,”he informed me, his opal eyes approximately two inches from my face.
“I do not,” I whispered, sliding a glance to where Graham still slept.
“You absolutely do. It’s like sleeping next to a small, angry badger with a sinus infection.”
“Wheesht!” I did not snore. Did I?
“I will not hush. I’ve sat in those archives for years with nobody to talk to.”He settled more comfortably on my sternum, and I sighed.“Also, you talk in your sleep. Something about cheese. Very concerning.”
What was wrong with dreaming about cheese? Didn’t everyone love cheese? Sophie would back me up here.
“Why are you bothering me right now?”
“I got bored. Your romance novel collection can only sustain me for so long, and I’ve already cataloged all your historical inaccuracies.”He fluttered his wings. Graham stirred beside me, one arm tightening around my waist as he pulled me closer. His eyes were still closed, but I could tell from the tension in his jaw that he was awake.
“Is the dragon insulting us again?” he mumbled into his pillow.
“Book wyrm. And yes. Apparently, I snore and talk about cheese.”
“You do snore. It’s adorable.”
“It is not adorable,”Quilliam interjected.“It’s cacophonous.”
“He says it’s cacophonous.”
“Tell him to sodoff.”
“He can hear you.”
“Good.” Graham cracked one eye open and fixed Quilliam with a bleary glare. “Sod off, you wee menace.”
Quilliam’s tail flicked with what I’d come to recognize as amusement.“I like him. He’s grumpy in the mornings. Very relatable. Though his vocabulary could use some work.”
I translated, leaving out the vocabulary comment, and Graham snorted. “At least we agree on something. Now get off my girlfriend so I can kiss her good morning properly.”
Every time Graham called me his girlfriend, my insides twisted into knots, and I felt the inane need to fan my face. Which was ridiculous. I’d known this man most of my life.
“The romance in this flat is suffocating.”But Quilliam obligingly flew to the headboard, settling there like a tiny, judgmental gargoyle.“I’ll just watch from here.”
“You absolutely will not,” I said, glaring up at him.
“Fine. I’ll go inspect the kitchen. I believe there are crumbs that require my attention. Though I wouldn’t mind my brekkie soon, ahem.”He disappeared through the doorway, and I heard the distant sound of tiny claws on the countertop.
Graham rolled over and pulled me close, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was soft and warm and tasted like sleep. I melted into it, letting myself forget about curses and ancient water serpents, at least for a few minutes.
“Morning,” he murmured against my lips.
