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“It’s also hard to dream of children when you know, when you are certain in the deepest part
of your heart, that you will never have them. That you will never have anything.”
Finch’s heart felt like it was being shredded. He clenched his fists to mitigate the pain. “But
you’re mated to Sebastian and have been for half a millennium. You have everything.”
Peregrine smiled, but he looked a little sad. “Perhaps not everything. But my situation is neither
here nor there.”
“I don’t think I can bear it,” Finch said in a hard, desperate voice that surprised even himself.
They’d arrived at the staircase, and for each step they descended, Finch’s spirits shrank.
“Bear what, darling?”
“Seeing his disappointment. Seeing it reflected in his eyes every day that he sees me. I… I just
can’t.”
“I think you sell yourself short,” Peregrine said as they crossed the marble floor of the grand
foyer. “And Hugh. You sell him short as well.”
“My best-case scenario,” Finch said bitterly, “is to be carrying a human Disgrace.”
Peregrine paled and bit his lip, then seemed to collect himself. “Hugh can only father dragons
and dragonets. There’s no such thing as a Disgrace. A dragon’s offspring, no matter what form
they take, are never human. A dragon can only sire more dragons.”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Hugh doesn’t want a Disgrace or a dragonet. He wants
a clutch. All he’s ever wanted was a clutch.”
Peregrine paused in front of the mansion’s large and imposing door. He smiled at what had to
be a footman. “Gerald, please get Finch’s coat and hat. He wishes to go home.”
“Yes, sir.” The footman looked so deferential that in another time, he’d have likely tugged on
his forelock. But then Peregrine was perfect, and people responded to that. Finch wasn’t
perfect, and he’d never be perfect, no matter how hard he tried.
“I can’t believe you know the names of servants that aren’t even your own.”
Peregrine smiled and showed a sweet dimple. “I wasn’t always the mate of a dragon. But never
mind that. I think that you’ll find Hugh doesn’t really want a clutch.”
Finch snorted. “I can assure you he does.”
Peregrine squeezed Finch’s hand. “I think that what Hugh wants is to be a father. Oh, and look.
Here’s the very efficient Gerald now with your hat and coat. Think about what I said, Finch.”
