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and didn’t return.
Finch hoped it wasn’t destined for the dessert table, which was laden with food and sweets,
including a large cake.
“Well.” Ignatius flattened both of his hands on the table like he was about to do business. “Now
that the ceremonial strawberry has been eaten, it’s time for our club meeting to begin.”
“Is that what we’re doing now?” Misha asked distractedly. “It’s been so long, I thought we
weren’t doing them anymore. And what about him?” He jabbed his thumb in Finch’s direction.
“He’s new.”
“Which is exactly why today’s meeting is important.”
“Club?” Finch asked. He was so far out of his depth that he was afraid he’d never find his way
to the surface.
“Wytad Club,” Ignatius explained. “It’s not actually a club in the traditional sense of the word,
but it’s what we call ourselves when we get together. Although I guess it’s in need of a name
change. We need to be more inclusive. Not everyone mated to a dragon lays eggs.”
Walter shrank into his seat and looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. No sooner had he than
Peregrine patted him on the arm and inched his chair closer. “You’re right, darling. The
language is outdated at best. The birth of a dragonet should be every bit as cherished as the
laying of a clutch. Besides, Finch has yet to conceive at all, unless I’ve missed something.”
Finch almost fell out of his chair. “What?”
“Have you copulated?” Harrison asked. He adjusted his glasses and gave Finch a good look.
“With Hugh, I mean. Previous instances of copulation don’t count. Although it would be
fascinating to study the mating habits of a dragonet prior to the formation of a bond with his or
her dragon. Ohh, I have so much research to do.” Harrison chewed on his bottom lip.
“Harry, you lived with me all through college,” Ignatius said flatly. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got all
the data you need.”
Good lord, who were these people? Finch was starting to understand why Walter seemed in
perpetual need of a stiff drink. Thank god the conversation swung off on a wild tangent
pursuant to Ignatius’s comment about his wild college days, or Finch might have died of
embarrassment.
Unfortunately, there was one individual seated at the table who seemed to have no interest in
