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Prologue
Finch
When Finch arrived at his employer’s study, he found Mr. Hugh Drake wearing a hole in its
Turkish rug. “You called, sir?”
“Finch. Finally. I thought you’d never get here. I need your help.”
As Hugh’s primary Attendant and secretary, helping the dragon with whatever he requested
was Finch’s entire job description, and what he’d done for the last third of his life. Thirteen
years, of course, was merely a brief moment in a dragon’s existence, but to Finch, who was
very human, it was long enough to ascertain something was wrong with his employer. He’d
never seen Hugh so agitated. “Yes, sir?”
“I need you to find me a list of Disgraces that have aged out of the Pedigree.”
Finch blinked at the dragon, who had a bit of smoke escaping from his mouth and nostrils.
“Excuse me?”
Hugh raked a hand through his thick black hair. “You heard me. Now do your job and find
them.”
Finch was nonplussed. He’d never seen Hugh in such a state, much less so short-tempered.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I must ask—why?”
“Because I—” Hugh stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Finch, I do apologize. I
realize I’m being testy. It’s just… I’m tired of waiting. It’s been six years and I keep being
overlooked. It’s time I take matters into my own hands and discover if all this science being
bandied about is true.”
“If what’s true, sir?”
“That Disgraces are dragons,” Hugh whispered.
Finch fell back a step. “What?” Had Hugh finally gone mad? Finch had strict instructions from
his employer’s father, the very intimidating Grimbold Drake, to notify him at the first sign of his
son’s mental collapse. He’d thought the edict ridiculous at the time, but now he couldn’t be so
sure.
“That’s the rumor going about,” Hugh confirmed. “My brother and his strange mate insist the
data from their mating experiment is conclusive, but I really can’t be sure, since Father chose
Reynard as the Amethyst candidate instead of me.” His face crumpled a little, then he stiffened
