Page 10 of Dragon’s Ending

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, startling her. “But Rhodri said you could give me the key to the room where the records are kept.”

She climbed to her feet, sending a last regretful look at her tea. “Now don’t go losing it,” she warned as she crossed the stone-flagged floor to the wall by what I now knew was the pantry door. “They’re not usually allowed to stay out of the key press, see.”

She gave a small laugh as she used a key from her pocket to unlock the key storage unit mounted on the wall.

“Mind you, who’d be interested in old, dusty books, anyway?” She wrinkled her nose as she turned back and gave me a key. “It’s a bit of a mess in there,” she said apologetically. “No one’s really interested in them anymore, not since…”

She trailed off, and there was an instant of real sorrow on her face.

Since Rhodri’s wife had died, I wondered, but it wasn’t my business and it wasn’t relevant to why I was here.

“It’s okay for me to keep it?” I checked with her. “I do some of my best work at night.” And then I bit my lip as I realised how that could have been taken. “I’m a bit of a night owl, don’t much like mornings,” I added, just to clarify my meaning.

I’d overcompensated—she didn’t seem to notice anything suggestive in my phrasing. “You can hold onto it, Mr Bedwyr said. Room's on the second floor, north-east corner.” She drew in a breath. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

Ideally, I’d have taken her up on her offer. I hadn’t been up to the second floor yet, with my room being on the first. But it was very clear she was reluctant. “Just tell me how to get there, and that’ll be fine,” I said.

She gave me exhaustive instructions that included an improbable number of twists and turns. “It’s just along from Mr Dominic’s room,” she said. “But don’t mind him, if you see him. He’s just—Don’t mind him.”

He’s just what? Loud, in a way that had nothing to do with sound and everything to do with energy? Apart from that child, he was the first person I’d encountered so far in this house who seemed fully alive. Unlikeable, but alive.

Giving her a quick smile, I headed off in search of the Bedwyr family records.

Five minutes later, I realised I was lost. I’d gone up the staircase to the second floor, turned left from the main landing as instructed, down four little steps and along a corridor that led, I’d thought, to the room I was after. But instead of a door, I found myself looking at steps to yet another landing. This was ridiculous.

“Problem?”

The voice came from behind me.

I turned to find Dominic leaning one shoulder against a doorframe a little way along the landing, looking as though he'd been there for some time. There was an easy confidence about him that suggested landings existed largely for him to occupy attractively.

“I seem to be lost,” I admitted.

“If you’re looking for my bedroom, you’ve taken a wrong turning.”

God, he was exhausting. “I’m really not,” I told him.

For a heartbeat he simply looked at me. Then one corner of his mouth lifted, slow and unmistakably amused. “That's a shame.”

I ignored that. “I'm looking for the records room.”

His expression changed almost imperceptibly. Interest, perhaps. Or simply curiosity. “Are you?” he said.

It appeared a straightforward conversation was beyond him. Yet he was still the last, best hope I had of finding the damn room without having to go back downstairs and ask Glenys for help.

“Yes,” I said, and did not grit my teeth.

He straightened lazily from the doorframe. “It's this way.”

I fell into step beside him. “I'd have found it eventually.”

“I'm sure you would have.” There was just enough amusement in his voice that I couldn't decide whether he'd agreed with me or not.

It turned out I should have gone right at the top of the stairs. He left me at the entrance to another small landing, a shrug towards the heavy oak door on the left apparently explanation enough before he turned and walked away. And even his stride was annoying, loose and confident, someone who’d never thought twice about taking up space.

I turned back to the door, half-expecting him to have led me to the wrong place as his idea of a joke. The key turned easily in the lock and I cautiously pushed the door open, not knowing what I’d find.

But it wasn’t this. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every wall, stuffed with leather-bound ledgers and bundles of papers tied up with fading ribbon. Cardboard document wallets had been crammed sideways onto shelves already full, with loose sheets protruding at alarming angles. A vellum scroll sat balanced precariously on top of a vase, looking old enough that I instinctively wanted gloves before going anywhere near it.