Page 69 of Dragon’s Ending

“What exactly do you want me to say?” Dominic sounded resigned, like this was the ending he’d expected all along.

“I wanted,” Rhodri said, each word clipped and controlled, “to know whether I could trust you with the future of this family. And now—” He took a breath, sharp with fury. “Now I need time to consider what I do next.”

“Right,” Dominic said, his voice flat and quiet.

Then he turned and walked out of the hall.

After one last look at Rhodri’s face, I went after him.

He was already halfway across the courtyard by the time I caught up with him. “Dominic.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even slow down. He just kept walking, hands in his pockets, shoulders tight.

“Dominic.”

This time he stopped. But he kept his back to me as he breathed hard through his nose like he was trying very carefully not to either scream or shift.

For one terrible moment, I thought he might tell me to leave him alone. Instead, he laughed once under his breath.

“Well,” he said hoarsely, “that could have gone better.”

I moved closer cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he said. Then he started walking again.

We reached the castle in silence. Dominic dropped down onto the low remains of a wall, forearms braced on his knees and his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the valley.

I stayed standing for a moment because I had too much energy inside me. Anger was bubbling hot and sharp beneath my ribs.

“I cannot believe him,” I said finally.

Dominic huffed faintly. “Honestly, I’d save your outrage for something more surprising.”

“Dominic.”

That finally made him look up at me. The exhaustion in his face hit me harder than Rhodri’s anger had.

“He hasn’t actually thrown me out,” he said. “Not yet.”

Cold slithered in my gut. “Thrown you out? That’s what he meant by considering what to do? He’s threatening to send you away again?”

His gaze dropped away from mine, and I knew I was right.

For a few seconds he said nothing at all, one hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. Then he laughed quietly without humour.

“The first few months after I came back were…” He shrugged. “Rough.”

I sat down beside him.

“At first I kept trying to work out what he wanted from me,” he said. “Every conversation felt like some kind of test I hadn’t revised for. If I argued, I was volatile. If I disappeared for a while, looking for something to do, I was irresponsible. If I asked questions, I was challenging him.”

The bitterness in his voice hurt to hear.

“I honestly did try,” he said after a moment. “At the start.”

And somehow that was the worst part, because I believed him instantly.

“He’d spent eleven years hearing reports about me,” Dominic continued, staring out across the valley. “I think he expected me to come back half-feral.”