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2
Drakewell, Aquitainia
“A bit more padding, here, I think. I don’t want it to rub.”
“Aye, m’lady, seems right,” Billy said, scratching absently at his nose. An old habit, one she’d watched him perform time and time again in his tenure with the Drake family. He’d served as saddler, cobbler, makeshift armorer once the war started and their ball-going family found themselves in need of battle gear, and wasn’t a bad tailor, either. He’d made Tessa a doll, once, of bleached sackcloth with a frilly dress of velvet and lace scraps. He’d crafted Shadow’s tack, including the armored neck and chest pieces she’d commissioned years before, and Amelia wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to outfit her new mount.
Potential mount.
She was going to ride her drake today.
Billy wedged his fingers beneath the strap in question and found extra room – room for a bit more felt padding where the girth connected with the breastplate: a design Tessa had sent her, one of several detailed sketches Oliver had made in regards to his own drake’s harness.
Alpha craned his head around, nostrils flared inquisitively.
Billy patted his snout, just as he would with a horse. Of all the manor’s staff, he’d been the least bothered by the idea of handling a mythical beast, a natural calm that the drakes seemed to appreciate. “Don’t worry, beastie, we’ll get you sorted.”
“Can I ride the dragon, Daddy?” a small voice asked.
Amelia turned to see that Connor, his four-year-old son Liam perched on his hip, had eased a few steps closer to Alpha – still hesitant himself, but spurred on by Liam’s curiosity…and bravery.
“No,” Connor said, “absolutely not.” But he held out a flat palm for Alpha to sniff.
The drake did so, with a bored air, and then turned his attention to Liam.
Amelia wasn’t keen on children, but had to admit Liam was cute, with his tousled dark hair, and his big, inquisitive eyes, and the rambunctious, bold spirit of a boy born and raised in the wilds of the Inglewood. She smiled as Alpha exhaled against his face, blowing his hair back and making Liam laugh.
Connor’s eyes got wide.
Amelia could feel Alpha’s amusement rippling down the bond between them, and she had no doubt Liam couldn’t have been safer anywhere than with her drake. All of the dragons positively doted on the boy.
Connor caught her watching, and slid a glance her way. “I still can’t believe you plan to ride this thing.”
She grinned. “Oliver assures it’s perfectly safe.”
“Oh, Oliver,” Reginald scoffed from behind her – a safe distance from Alpha and his harness fitting. “Because there’s a daredevil.”
Amelia tossed a glance at him over her shoulder – he stood with arms folded, hips cocked, but with worry lines between his blond brows – and said, “He was brave enough to go into coat closets with you.”
She had the pleasure of watching him turn scarlet.
“Ha!” Connor exclaimed. “I knew it.”
Reginald turned on him, fuming. “You don’t know a bloody damn thing.”
“Daddy.” Liam pressed his laughing face into his father’s throat. “He said a bad word.”
“I’m sure your father says plenty of those.”
“Excuse you, I’m a gentleman.”
“You’re a bloody woodland outlaw.”
Their bickering had become so commonplace as to be boring. She’d learned to successfully ignore it…
“And you’re a prancing fop who needs–”
…well, for the most part.
