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When Declan saw the long line outside Burkhard Castle, he almost gave up and went home. Or at least, back to the hostel to pinch a chair. He shifted from foot to foot and crutch to crutch, trying to keep the blood from pooling in his legs. He started feeling a little lightheaded. Rats. He should have brought his wheelchair, but he hadn’t wanted to fly with it in case the airline damaged it.
A few places behind him in line, he heard a pair of masculine voices raising. One of them spoke German, and the other spoke what sounded like Chinese. Declan’s German wasn’t the best, but he thought that the German-speaker was asking the person to go to the back of the line. The German-speaker repeated himself slowly and clearly, then tried saying the same thing in heavily accented, halting English, then in mangled French with the exact same result. The probably-Chinese speaker didn’t appear to understand at all, and only grew louder.
Declan peeked over his shoulder at the altercation. Most of the people around him did the same. The German-speaker was a police officer, who pulled out a phone and made a call. The probably-Chinese speaker looked like a tourist/hopefully-a-mage just like everyone in line.
Then, the most handsome man Declan had ever seen came striding back along the line towards the police officer and the frustrated tourist. He looked like he was supposed to be a pirate on the cover of a romance novel with his long auburn hair, sharp cheekbones, and creamy skin. He wore a deep blue blazer over crisp grey jeans, but he definitely should have been wearing a sword and a tricorn hat.
The handsome man reached the police officer and the tourist. He spoke to the officer in rapid German, then switched to the language the tourist spoke in almost the same breath. His voice was rich and warm, like polished wood. The situation de-escalated immediately.
Declan didn’t see what happened, because his vision started greying around the edges and his lightheadedness got a lot worse. He tried to sit down, but he’d left it too late. He fell over instead.
Right into the arms of the handsome pirate man.
**
“Sasha, mates don’t just fall into your lap like that,” said Brenner.
Sasha smirked. “Sure.”
Brenner groaned. “Ugh. You just got lucky.”
Sasha’s mate Cassie looked up from where she was testing the people who hoped they were mages in the line. “Oh, yeah she did,” said Cassie with a lascivious wink. Sasha leaned down and planted a kiss on her mate’s lips.
Brenner rolled his eyes, envious of their adorable relationship. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Otis Herzsprung, one of the police officers assigned to beef up the castle’s security. “How can I help you?” Brenner answered the call in German.
“There’s an issue at the back of the line, and I can’t make myself understood. You don’t happen to speak… I think it’s Chinese?”
“I do. I’ll be right there.” He’d already started jogging towards the back of the line by the time Officer Herzsprung finished his question. It took him longer to get to the police officer than he thought it would. The line was truly enormous today.
A few moments later, Brenner reached Officer Herzsprung and the tourist who was shouting at him in Mandarin.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” said Officer Herzsprung. “He just doesn’t understand me when I ask him to get in line.”
“Remind me to get you a translation charm,” Brenner told the officer in German. Then, he switched to Mandarin for the tourist. “How can we help you, sir?”
“Finally!” said the tourist. “Is this line for tours of the castle, or for finding out if you’re a mage?”
“For finding out if you’re a mage,” Brenner told him. “Unfortunately, we’re not allowing tours of the castle for the general public at this time due to safety concerns. We were bombed a couple of weeks ago.”
The tourist’s eyes went wide. “Is it safe for me to even be here, then?”
“We’ve increased security, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Wait… You said “we.” Are you a dragon?” asked the tourist. “Am I talking to a dragon right now?”
“You are,” Brenner informed him.
The tourist let out an excited squeal. “Even if I’m not a mage and I can’t see the castle, I met a dragon! Can I take your picture? Will you take a picture with me?”
After a couple of selfies with the tourist, the man went happily to the back of the line. Brenner started back towards his post at the front.
Then, a young man in front of him fainted. Brenner lunged in to catch him and his black forearm crutches. The young man had shaggy, curly, dark hair. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.
And he smelled faintly of rain. Magic. It was subtle, but it was there.
The young mage’s long eyelashes fluttered. His eyes opened. They were on the greenish side of hazel. His cheeks turned deep pink.
“Oh, God! I’m sorry!” cried the young mage. Irish. Oh, dear. Brenner was a sucker for an Irish accent, which had led to several poor decisions in the early twentieth century.
“Are you all right? You fainted,” said Brenner, using English to match the man.
“I’m fine. That happens sometimes.”
“Let me get you somewhere you can sit down,” Brenner insisted.
“But… my place in line…”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m a front-of-the-line pass,” Brenner assured him. “May I carry you?”
“But I’m heavy.”
“Hi, heavy, I’m strong.” The young Irishman blinked, then laughed at the dad joke. It was like little fairy bells. “But seriously, it’s a long way to the castle,” Brenner said.
The young man looked at the line, at how it stretched forward for a good two hundred meters or so.
“Yeah, ok.”
**
Declan wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in a bridal carry in the arms of the most swoon-worthy man he’d ever seen. He had to be dreaming. He pinched himself. Nope. Somehow, this was real.
Mr. Somehow-Not-A-Dream carried Declan as if he and his unwieldy crutches weighed no more than a kitten. His deep blue blazer was definitely velvet. He had a small gold hoop piercing his lip and blue studs in both earlobes. Declan would bet that they were real sapphire.
Mr. Sexy Pirate Vibes strode through the gates to Burkhard Castle unchallenged and confident. He sat Declan down on a bench in the courtyard.
“Lay down,” he instructed Declan. Declan did so on the cool stone bench, because that’s what his body wanted to do anyway. Mr. Romance Novel stripped off his blazer. “We’ll put this under your feet to elevate them.”
Declan sat up. Too fast. The world greyed out again. “No. I’m not putting my feet on your coat.”
“Would you put them in my lap?”
“Yes.” The stunning man sat on the bench and lifted Declan’s feet into his lap.
“I’m Brenner. What’s your name?” His English was flawless. Not even a trace of a German accent. Just a rich, beautiful voice.
“Declan O’Brian.” Declan’s vision cleared. Brenner had a smartphone out and tapped away on it with both thumbs. “Are you texting?”
“I am.” He looked at Declan. One eye was deep brown and one was sky blue. He had a scar along one cheekbone.
“You don’t need to call anybody. I’ve got POTS. This happens to me sometimes.”
“Too late. I’ve already texted three people.”
“Look, you don’t need to make a fuss. Text them again.”
“Can’t. Here’s one of them now.” Brenner gestured at an approaching young East-Asian-looking woman who could best be described as “punk.” A tall, blonde woman who could best be described as “literally a Valkyrie” followed close behind her.
“So, you think you found a mage?” said the punk chick. American.
“Hold the phone,” said Declan, pushing himself up to his elbows. Brenner raised his phone and pointed to the screen. “You live here,” Declan accused, ignoring the dad joke.
“Guilty as charged,” said Brenner.
“Are you…” Declan lowered his voice. He didn’t want people to overhear if he was about to put his foot in his mouth. “Are you a dragon?”
“Yep.”
Declan lay back down. His heart pounded and he felt dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with his medical condition. This was perfect. This was terrible.
He’d been hoping to meet a dragon even if he didn’t turn out to be a mage, hoping that one of them might agree to an interview. He’d had to scrap his entire master’s thesis when the dragons revealed themselves to the world. It could have been worse: one of his professors had needed to chuck out an entire book she’d nearly finished.
Depending on how old Brenner was, he could be the ultimate primary source. He might have lived through the Dragon War, and he seemed friendly enough to agree to an interview. There was only one problem: how was Declan supposed to stay objective and academic when all he was thinking of was Brenner’s mismatched eyes?
The punk chick was laughing. “Yeah, I reacted kind of like that when I met my first dragon,” she said. She smiled up at the Valkyrie woman, who grinned back in a besotted manner. “So, this amulet is going to tell us if you’re a mage or nah.” She held up a weird wire pendant with a green stone. “If it glows, then you’re a wizard, Harry.”
“My name is Declan,” he deadpanned. “I’m probably a Ravenclaw.”
“Ooo, a sense of humor! I hope you’re a mage, because I like you!” she squealed. She handed him the amulet. It glowed with a dim, green light. She frowned. “Well, you’re definitely a mage, but I’m not sure why it’s so dim.” She picked up the amulet and squinted at it.
“Maybe I’m not a very strong mage,” said Declan, grinning ear to ear anyway. So he wasn’t Merlin, but he was a MAGE! That meant access to the castle. That meant access to DRAGONS, the people whose history he’d studied his entire life.
“Maybe it’s broken. I need to ask Lisette.”
“She’s on her way,” Brenner informed her. “I had a question for her, too.”
A tall man with long, sleek black hair walked out of the castle towards them. Seriously, everyone in this castle looked like they should be on the cover of a magazine. Declan didn’t feel like his crippled ass was anywhere near the same league, and yet he was somehow a mage.
Unless the amulet was broken. It was probably broken.
“Brenner, you said someone fainted in the line?” asked the absurdly attractive newcomer.
“Our newest mage,” said Brenner. “Declan, this is Sora. He’s a healer. Sora, Declan.”
Declan pushed himself slowly to a sitting position. No additional dizziness. He put out a hand for a handshake with the healer. “Nice to meet you, but I’m fine. I faint sometimes. I have trouble standing for long periods of time. Don’t worry about it.”
“Is it ok with you if I check you out anyway?”
Declan sighed. “I doubt you’ll be able to do anything about my orthostatic intolerance, but you can examine me if you like.” He did not look forward to explaining his incurable medical condition to yet another specialist who couldn’t help.
“Have you ever been examined with magic before?”
Declan perked up. “Magic can do that? Really? This I’ve got to see!”
Sora did…something Declan didn’t quite catch, and lines and numbers spooled out over Declan’s body in a dull red glow.
“Why is it so faint?” asked the punk chick.
Sora squinted. “I haven’t seen that before. Have you ever cast any spells? Had any spells cast on you?”
“Not to my knowledge?” said Declan.
“I’m texting Gunter,” Brenner informed them. “Seeing if he knows anything about a mage clan called O’Brian.”
“It’s not a clan I’ve heard of,” said Sora. “Well, looks like your blood pressure is really low, and your blood vessels have a hard time getting your blood back up to your heart. Which is beating pretty fast.”
“All that’s normal,” said Declan.
“I might be able to put together something that can help, but I definitely need to collect more reflected moonlight to do it. Can I talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” No medication had been able to help much, but Declan certainly wouldn’t mind trying a magical potion.
An older woman who looked like a movie star and had the presence of a queen came towards them. Brenner introduced her as Lisette, the head mage.
“Sora, why is your diagnostic spell so faint?” Lisette asked, getting right to business.
“Good question. No idea,” said the healer.
“Young man, are you wearing any charms? Amulets? Jewelry?” she asked Declan.
“Oh. Yes.” He pulled his necklace out from under his shirt. It was a wooden pendant about the size of a pound coin hung on a silver chain. “It’s sort of a tradition in my family. For luck.”
The head mage nodded. “Yes, that would do it. May I see that?”
“Sure?” Declan undid the clasp and handed her his pendant.
The red lines of Sora’s spell flared vividly. “Woah!” said the punk chick. She handed her mage-detecting amulet to him, and it flared blinding green. “Guess we solved that mystery.”
Declan glanced at Brenner. The dragon looked stunned and delighted. His eyes flashed gold for a moment, and suddenly every medieval text’s reference to a dragon’s “golden eyne” made much more sense.
Head mage Lisette inspected Declan’s pendant, tracing the distinctive traditional knotwork with her finger. “This isn’t for luck,” she said. “This is for concealment. It looks like Connolly work, and they were always very good at stealth. Your family name didn’t use to be Connolly, did it?”
“I don’t think so, but the records I’ve been able to find only go back a couple hundred years,” said Declan.
“If I were… hiding, the first thing I’d do is change my name,” said Brenner.
The punk chick nodded. “Yeah. Frankly, I’m surprised more mage families didn’t do that,” she said. “Unless they did, and we just don’t know.”
Lisette handed Declan back his pendant. “You won’t need to wear this here, but it might be a good idea if you go into town.”
“Why?”
“We’ll explain later,” said Sora. “Right now, you should go eat something salty and drink some water. Brenner can show you where the dining hall is.”
Declan nodded. “You don’t have any Gatorade, do you? That helps a lot.”
Brenner looked up, like he was trying to remember. “Maybe. If you’re feeling ok, let’s go find out.”
“I’m a little overwhelmed, but I feel fine,” said Declan, itching to see the inside of a dragon castle.
**
The castle didn’t disappoint. It wasn’t bare stone and ruins, it was grace and understated wealth mixed with a university feel. Like history that people lived in. Declan’s college at Oxford felt like that.
They entered a grand foyer, with stunning murals and a beautiful staircase.
Brenner strolled toward the staircase, explaining, “The dining hall is on the next floor up… Will the stairs present a problem?”
Declan wanted to say no, and on a different day they might not have been much of an issue. Today, stairs were a problem. “Yeah,” Declan admitted. “Not always, but today’s not a great day body-wise. Do you have an elevator?”
“Yes, just down that hall about forty meters.” Brenner pointed. “I could carry you up the stairs. It would be faster.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose like that.” As lovely as it would be to be carried around by a dragon all day, Declan didn’t want to seem weak or troublesome.
“No trouble at all. Really,” said Brenner. He seemed a little tense.
“The elevator will be fine. I’ll need to know where that is anyway.”
“That’s a good point,” Brenner admitted. He led Declan down a plushly carpeted hallway to the elevator. The carpet would be a problem if Declan ever had his wheelchair here. Maybe there was a spell he could cast on it to make traversing carpet not suck donkey balls.
Brenner pushed the button to call the elevator, and a moment later the doors opened. The interior was wood-paneled, and some stunning landscape paintings hung on the walls. Declan got in first. Brenner followed a moment later, the doors closing behind him. He pushed the button for the next floor up, and the elevator smoothly began to rise.
When the elevator stopped, Brenner exited and made sure the doors didn’t close on Declan as he got out.
Standing in this hallway (also carpeted, ugh) was a man who looked like he was supposed to be in a suit of armor and was inexplicably wearing jeans. He made an exaggerated expression of surprise and said something in German that Declan didn’t quite follow to Brenner in a teasing voice.
Brenner’s middle fingers needed no translation. “Fick dich, Warin,” Brenner said.
Mr. Probably-A-Dragon just laughed. Brenner brushed past him, and Declan followed, not wanting to get lost.
The dragons did indeed have Gatorade, which Declan consumed along with an early lunch. Brenner carried Declan’s meal, the went back to collect one for himself after getting the mage settled at a table.
The man from the hallway sat down across from Declan. “So, how did you do it?” he asked in German-accented English.
“How did I do what?”
“How did you get Brenner into an elevator?”
“I… He just walked in?”
“He must really like you. Brenner is intensely claustrophobic. We’ve had that elevator for decades, and he’s never once touched it.”
“I didn’t realize that! If he’d told me, I would have let him carry me up the stairs like he suggested!”
The man chuckled. “I’m Warin.” He extended a large hand for Declan to shake.
“Declan.” They shook hands. “Apparently, I’m a mage.”
“If you’ve got any questions about where to find things or if you ever get lost, don’t hesitate to ask anybody,” said Warin. “We’re all pretty nice, and we don’t bite.”
“…Unless you ask nicely,” said a good-looking short blonde man with flawless and complex makeup, coming up to Warin. “Hi, honey.” They exchanged a quick kiss.
“This is North, my mate,” Warin introduced.
“Hi, I’m Declan.”
“Are you a new mage?” asked North. Declan nodded. “Phone numbers. We should exchange those.” They did, then North went off to fetch food.
Brenner, having retrieved a plate of spaghetti, sat beside Declan. North returned and sat beside his mate. The four talked and ate. Naturally, they were curious about Declan, and Declan was even more curious about them.
“I’m a medieval historian,” Declan explained. “Studying at Oxford. Have to start my master’s thesis over, because, well…” He gestured to the castle around them in general. North laughed.
“Oxford in England?” asked North.
“Yes. Is there another Oxford?”
“Yeah. In Mississippi.”
“Ah, Oxford,” said Brenner with the dreamy smile of nostalgia. “I haven’t been there in… Gosh, two hundred years or so. Those were some good times.”
“I’d love for you to tell me more about that when I can take notes and maybe record it,” said Declan. “See, I didn’t really think I was a mage. What I really wanted to do was see if I could get an interview with a dragon.”
“Medieval historians don’t get to interview a lot of people, huh?” said North.
“No one with first-hand experience, certainly,” Declan told him. “But I know that dragons live for centuries, so I’m pretty sure someone here lived through what my master’s thesis is on.”
“Probably. We’d need to run it by King Alric, but I can’t imagine he’d object,” said Brenner. “What are you looking for interviews about?”
“The Dragon War. Is anyone here old enough to remember that?”
Brenner dropped his fork.
“Most of us,” said Warin. “Not everyone will want to talk about it.”
Brenner stood up. “Excuse me. I’ve just remembered something that I need to do. Warin, would you get Declan my number? I’d love to show you more of the castle, but…”
“Go,” said Warin. “I’ve got this.”
“Thanks,” said Brenner. He left.
North and Warin took over Declan’s tour around the castle. He got through maybe a third of it before he started feeling a little faint again. “Have you got somewhere I could lay down for a bit?” Declan asked.
“Oh, yeah!” chirped North. “Let’s get you a room!”
“I don’t need a room here. I’m at a hostel down in the town.”
“Ummm, about that…” said North, looking up at his mate.
“The Jaeggi are no more extinct than we are,” said Warin. “And they’re kidnapping mages.”
“What the hell did I walk into?” blurted Declan.
“Surprise! War’s not over,” said North. “I mean, you’re safer here than you would be out on your own. They’ve been kidnapping mages from all over, and have probably been for centuries.”
“Why?” asked Declan.
“They’re draining their magic, because Jaeggi magic is broken,” Warin told him.
“Oh,” said Declan, intensely aware of the pendant in his pocket. He thought of the family stories of a great-uncle who’d gone out one day without his pendant and never came back. He felt sorry for the guff he’d given his mother when she insisted he take the pendant to university with him.
“I think me mam’s a mage, too. She made this.” He took the pendant out of his pocket and showed it to them. “Lisette said it’s a concealment charm. I think maybe my family knew about the Jaeggi at one point and started making everyone wear these.”
“Your family should come here as soon as possible,” said Warin. “We can protect them.”
Declan swayed on his feet, steadying himself with his crutches.
“Room! Right!” said North. “There’s one on the same level as the dining hall, so you won’t have to worry about stairs…”
They guided Declan to a truly stunning apartment consisting of a bedroom/sitting room and an attached full bathroom. Declan wasn’t an expert, but he felt pretty sure the elegant burgundy canopy bed was an antique.
“Are all the rooms for mages this nice?” Declan asked.
North nodded. “Yep! Pretty sweet, huh?”
“Sweet doesn’t even begin to describe it!” Declan sat on the bed. The bedframe might be an antique, but the mattress was new and the sheets smelled of lavender.
“We can get your things from the hostel later,” Warin told him. “King Alric has asked that no mage leave the castle without at least two dragons for protection.”
“I won’t. I just found out about this magic. I don’t fancy having it drained away,” said Declan. “Do you know when Brenner might be finished with whatever it is he was doing? I’d like to fetch my things with a dragon I know.”
“Of course,” said Warin. Warin gave Declan Brenner’s phone number and his own. “Let me know when you feel up to the task.”
North and Warin left. Declan lay back on the bed, mind whirling. He called his mother. Once she was making travel plans to get the family to Sonthofen as soon as possible, he emailed the professor that was advising him on his thesis. She emailed back almost immediately, and the email contained more exclamation points in one sentence than he’d ever seen her use in all their previous correspondence and her three lengthy books put together.
After about an hour of being horizontal, Declan felt up to a quick trip into town to pick up his things from the hostel. He texted Brenner. "Hi, this is Declan. I need to pick up my things, and I need dragons to help me out with that. If you’re available. I’ve only got 2 dragons’ numbers, and you’re one of them, so…."
The reply was almost instantaneous. "Yes. Warin told me where your room is. I’ll find someone to come along and be right there."
Declan sent a thumb’s up emoji, then started the process of getting up from the bed.
A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. Declan opened it to reveal Brenner and Warin. Brenner held up a bottle of Gatorade. “Thought you might want some more,” he said.
“You were right. I do,” said Declan, grinning. He managed to stop himself from doing an external happy dance because the best-looking dragon alive thought about him and brought him something. He’d even remember the color Declan picked at lunch. “Would you mind too much carrying it for me?”
“Absolutely not.” Brenner smiled.
Declan’s face felt warm and he realized that he might be blushing. Thankfully, Brenner didn’t seem to notice. Warin lifted a rugged eyebrow, smiled knowingly, and didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, which way to the, er, car?” asked Declan.
The dragons led on. Declan and Warin took the elevator down to the ground floor. Brenner met them downstairs. Declan understood. Facing one’s fears twice in one day was a lot to ask of someone.
As they crossed the foyer, a masculine voice called out Brenner’s name. Brenner stopped and turned around.
“Hoheit! What can I do for you?” Brenner asked the person, who looked distinguished, dark-haired, and absolutely stunning like everyone else in Burkhard Castle. He looked familiar, and Declan couldn’t quite place why.
“Why does Cameron tell me that we need to put together a pinup calendar?” said the man with a small, amused smile.
“I may have mentioned a merchandising opportunity to Cassie. We could offer one calendar with dragons in dragon form and one with us in human form,” Brenner explained. “Possibly shirtless.”
“I’d buy both those calendars,” Declan blurted out.
“Market research case in point,” said Brenner, gesturing toward Declan.
“New mage?” said the newcomer. Brenner and Warin answered in the affirmative. “Hello. I’m Alric.” He extended his right hand for Declan to shake.
Declan fumbled with his crutches and finally managed to extricate one hand in order to shake. Because Alric wasn’t just any dragon. Declan was shaking hands with a KING.
“Declan O’Brian,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Er. I was, er, wondering, also, if I could talk to some of your clan? For, er, my master’s thesis. I’m a medieval historian, you see, and, er, well, I study dragons especially…” he trailed off.
The king nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t see why not. I would ask that you consult me if you intend to publish anything, though.”
Declan blinked. “I hadn’t thought beyond my master’s thesis, honestly.”
“Brenner, you’re in charge of the calendar project. Cameron’s pretty sure it will work.”
“Yesss! Thank you, Hoheit,” said Brenner. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“And before you ask, the answer is no. I don’t want to be in either calendar. I’m busy enough as it is,” said the king. He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which… Oh, good, I’m not late yet.”
“See you later, alligator,” Brenner said to the king with a cheerful wave.
The king chuckled as he disappeared down a hallway.
“So, Warin, do you want to be in a calendar?” Brenner asked.
“I suspect North will pester me until I agree to the pinup thing, so, yes.”
“When’s North’s birthday? I’ll make you his birthday month.”
Warin laughed. “He’ll like that. You’re a good friend.”
“I do try.”
**
Brenner snuck glances at the Irish mage as he drove them all down the mountain. Those freckles, the way they stood out when he blushed… Brenner wanted to make Declan blush more.
And so did his inner dragon. The lizard was sitting up inside him, prodding him to flirt for serious and not just for fun. Even though he’d literally just met the young historian.
Oh no. What had he said to Sasha? “Mates don’t just fall into your lap?” What if the universe had just made the biggest dad joke? What if Declan was…
Better flirt for realsies and find out.
“Verdammt,” swore Waring from the back seat.
“What?” asked Brenner, tensing, ready for anything.
“Reporters,” groaned his old friend.
Brenner swore in three different languages. “What are they doing, writing down our license plates like it’s the wedding scene of The Godfather?”
Warin snorted. “Probably.”
“Then make them an offer they can’t refuse,” Declan suggested.
Brenner laughed. He stepped on it.
The best part of living in the same place for more than five hundred years was knowing every single back alley and shortcut. He faked out the reporters, making as if he were going to drive straight through town, then doubling back. They arrived at Declan’s hostel sans pursuit.
The woman at the front desk gasped when they walked in. “You’re a dragon!” she blurted, pointing at Brenner. “I’ve seen you on the news!”
Brenner signaled for Warin to go ahead with Declan to get his things while he dealt with the front desk. His long-time friend and comrade nodded and ushered the new mage upstairs.
“You’ve got good eyes,” he told the woman, turning his most winning smile on her.
“Does this mean we have a mage staying with us?” She bounced up and down on her toes, eyes shining with delight.
“It does.”
“Oh, my goodness!” she cried, clapping her hands together.
“We would appreciate if you didn’t reveal his name to the press. I’d like to respect his privacy as much as possible. Can you do that for me?”
“Absolutely! Anything!” Her expression turned thoughtful and trepidatious. “ May I… May I mention that we had a mage staying with us, though? I think it would be good for business…”
“You’re right. You certainly may. Just, you know, privacy.”
“Of course! We wouldn’t want people thinking we don’t respect our patrons’ privacy, after all.”
“Naturally,” said Brenner. “You’re a savvy businessperson.”
It only took a few more minutes for Warin to help collect Declan’s things and come back down the stairs while Brenner distracted the receptionist/owner with small talk.
“…You really don’t have to carry everything,” Declan was saying. “I know it’s heavy.”
“Have your histories told you how strong dragons are?” Warin asked.
“I mean, some documents mention it in the middle of some other exaggerated language, but…”
“Our strength is not an exaggeration.”
“But still, I brought a LOT of books.”
Brenner stepped in to take a suitcase from Warin. It did indeed feel like it was full of books. A human or mage would have struggled.
“Gentlemen, they HAVE WHEELS,” Declan pointed out. “How do you think I managed them?”
“Oh! So they do,” said Warin. He set the bag he toted on the ground and dragged it toward the car.
Brenner didn’t set his burden down.
“Are you showing off, or just stubborn?” Declan asked him with a smile, walking beside him.
“Are you impressed?”
“By stubbornness?”
Brenner laughed.
“A little bit,” Declan confided, whispering so Brenner had to lean in to hear.
“Oh, I can do better,” said Brenner.
“Prove it,” Declan challenged.
“Either kiss or get in the car,” Warin broke into their flirty banter. “Before the reporters show up.”
Declan blushed and pulled away, hustling back to the passenger side of Brenner’s car.
Brenner would have preferred a kiss. But he had an idea of how to truly impress the mage: the historian’s dream dungeon.
**
The dungeon library was heaven for Declan. The preponderance of documents and journals made his fingers itch to start reading. He only faced one problem: language barriers.
Though Declan’s modern German was passable, his medieval German was nigh on nonexistent. He could easily read Greek, Latin, Old and Middle English, medieval and modern French, even Gaelic, but not Italian, Spanish, Arabic in any form, Hebrew, or Russian, and there were documents in all those languages and more. It was like a mirage of wealth. So close, but impossible to grab.
“You’re welcome to read anything in these archives,” Brenner was saying, “but check with Gunter first. Some things need to be handled in a specific way.”
“Of course!” said Declan, aghast at the thought of damaging any of the precious primary sources.
“And if there’s anything you need help translating, even just a word, text me. I speak every language and dialect in this library.”
Declan’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Anything?”
“Pretty much. I translate stuff for a living.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
Brenner moved his fingers as if he were counting in his head for a long time. “Lots,” he said finally.
“Old Norse?”
“Yes.”
“Aramaic?”
“That, too.”
“Elvish?”
“Quenya or Sindarin?”
“Either.”
“Trick question. Both.”
Declan grabbed Brenner’s face in both his hands. The dragon was so warm. “Do you know how valuable you are?”
Brenner chuckled. Declan loved that laugh, just as silky as his voice. “In what year and currency? We have to adjust for inflation.”
“It doesn’t matter, because you’re priceless.”
Brenner grinned. He was missing his upper canine tooth on his right side. “You really think so?” Brenner’s voice was low and flirty.
Declan opened his mouth to reply, but just then a tall, blonde dragon walked in with an enormous cup of coffee. Gunter.
“Brenner, why are you making out in my library?” snapped Gunter.
Declan snatched his hands away from Brenner’s face and blushed.
Brenner, unabashed, explained, “I told you about Declan, our new mage who’s a medieval historian working on his master’s thesis.”
Gunter blinked. “That’s right. You did. You’re Declan?” Declan nodded. “I need to interview you about your family. After that, you’re welcome to anything in here, but ask me before you touch it, and don’t put anything back yourself.”
“Absolutely,” Declan assured him.
“I assume you know how to handle historical documents. Don’t prove me wrong.”
And Declan didn’t. He handled every document with kid gloves, often literally.
Whenever Declan wasn’t busy learning magic, he was in the library, usually with Brenner. Declan didn’t need translation assistance quite as often as he asked for it. He just adored sitting next to Brenner, their heads together over a centuries-old document, thighs touching. Either Brenner had the patience of a saint, or he enjoyed it, too.
**
When the Sodalicium’s representatives arrived, Brenner lost no time in approaching the kings’ parties regarding the calendars. King Roca, in particular, had a pair of metal dragon twins in his retinue whose dragon forms were truly breathtaking. They would be perfect for June: Gemini season. Fortunately, they agreed with him.
Brenner’s extensive artistic contact network paid off. He knew the best photographers in Munich, and he had a good idea of who wouldn’t be intimidated by dragons in dragon form. He also knew who did the best boudoir photoshoots.
What he didn’t know (yet) was what the perfect date looked like for Declan O’Brian. Fortunately, he had a plan for that, too. Both his mother Ivy and his little sister Kathleen had come to the castle and been found to be mages. This resulted in a massive following for Kathleen’s TikTok account and several dragons and mages doing goofy dances going viral on the internet.
Brenner tracked down Declan’s mother in the courtyard one day. It was clear where he’d gotten those gorgeous eyes and freckles from, because Ivy O’Brian had them, too. Her hair was honey-brown and largely contained in a long plait, and she liked to read outdoors.
“How are you liking it here?” Brenner asked, sitting beside her. Her book was one of the primers Lisette handed out to all the new mages.
“Honestly, it’s something like a dream come true. Er, could I ask you a question?”
“I was going to ask you a question. You first!”
“That ice dragon Zakhar… Is he single?”
Zakhar was well over six feet tall, with abs for days, piercing grey eyes, and long hair that had gone snow white at an early age. He was, in Brenner’s opinion, the most approachable of the ice dragons and the only one who’d agreed to be in both calendars. Zakhar could smolder at the camera like no other, and his silvery white dragon form made the perfect illustration for January.
Brenner smiled. “Oh, yes. He’s single.”
“Declan says you know a lot of languages. Could you teach me Russian or Portuguese?”
“I can teach you both. I’ll get you started, but you should ask Zakhar for more…advanced lessons.” Her cheeks turned pink, just like Declan’s would have.
“You said you had a question for me?” she changed the subject.
“Right. What is Declan’s favorite food?”
“Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles. He’ll eat them all day if you let him.” She fixed him with a mock-serious stare. “Don’t let him.”
“I won’t. What about for dinner?”
“He’s a fan of a good beef roast. And brown bread with clotted cream. And potato farls for breakfast.”
Brenner committed this all to memory. “What’s his favorite color?”
“Burgundy or dark red.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” said Brenner. His scales tended toward the darker shades of red, maroon, and burgundy.
Ivy O’Brian looked up at him shrewdly. “You like him.”
“I like him a lot.”
“He’s sensitive. He’s had his heart broken before, and it was…truly horrible.” Her expression clouded over. Brenner’s inner dragon growled. If he ever found out who’d harmed Declan… “If you hurt him, I will end you.”
“Naturally. That’s the last thing I want to do. I’ve never been as serious about someone in my life.”
Mama O’Brian nodded. “Good.” She smiled. “Then go for it!”
Later that day, he happened upon Declan’s little sister Kathleen in the dining hall eating a truly obscene amount of chocolate ice cream. She was so tiny, barely five feet tall and starlet slender. It was a mystery where she put it all. He grabbed himself some lunch and sat by the teen.
“Hi,” she said. “You should get a TikTok. My followers think you’re hot. Ew. Is that broccoli?”
“Yeah, I thought I’d put it on your ice cream,” Brenner said, picking up a sprig of steamed broccoli and moving it slowly, inexorably towards her massive dessert.
Kathleen squealed and twisted away, shielding her treasured sugar. “That’s the worst! I think you might be the worst! Ew!”
Brenner ate the offending broccoli. “What would I put on a TikTok? I’m not a good dancer.”
“That’s a lie. You’re not good at choreography, but you’ve got moves. Honestly, you’re a hot dragon with a beautiful voice. You could just make videos of you reading a menu aloud and the whole world would follow you.”
Brenner imagined making videos with Declan as the cameraman. He could do videos in different languages, maybe. How many languages can you say “dragon” in inside of a minute. Something like that. He pictured a lot of giggling in this fantasy.
“I will definitely think about that,” he assured the teen. She nodded. “Sooooo, what’s your brother’s favorite drink?”
“Milk. Oh! You mean drink drink. He’s a cider boy. Why?”
“Just wanted to know.”
“You like him. Don’t you.”
“Yes. I really, really, really like him.”
“Then you should know.” She leaned in, deadly serious. “The last time Declan was in a serious relationship, the boy cheated on him, then dumped him when his POTS got really bad. Said he didn’t want to date a cripple.”
“Well, I do.”
“Sure, you say that. Declan was so depressed he failed two classes. He’s never failed a thing in his life. He almost committed suicide. So, if you hurt my brother, I will murder you and make an outfit out of your hide.” She could probably make a whole wardrobe.
“If I hurt your brother, I deserve it.” Brenner seethed with rage. “Who did that to him?” he growled. His eyes were solid gold, his dragon very close to the surface. “I will incinerate their house and then eat them.”
Kathleen smiled, satisfied. “Good. You’re serious. I’d tell you exactly where to find him, but he lives with his grandmother and she’s lovely. You’re smoking a little there.” She pointed to the thin line of smoke that Brenner realized was curling from his nostrils.
Brenner closed his eyes, took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out slowly. The rage started to recede. He did it again. Then one more time, just for good measure. When he opened his eyes again, he was calm. Ish.
**
They were all working on warding. Declan’s mother was especially good at it, practically disappearing when her wards were active.
“The more I see you work, Ivy, the more certain I am that your family is what’s left of Clan Connolly,” said Lisette. She smiled sadly, as if recalling a happy-but-painful memory. “Siobhan’s wards looked exactly like that.”
“Who’s Siobhan?” asked Kathleen.
“A good friend. She was Clan Connolly before she was Clan Burkhard.”
“How come we haven’t met her?” asked Kathleen. Declan elbowed his little sister. “Ow! What?”
Lisette didn’t notice. Her eyes had a faraway look. “She…They didn’t make it through the Dragon War.”
“Oh,” said Kathleen. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
Lisette shook herself back into the present moment. “Take down your wards and let’s try that again, everybody.” Her smile was too tight and her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
**
Declan considered skipping dinner and going right to sleep instead. Magic was HARD when POTS fatigue came calling. Even though Sora’s potions helped more than anything bar lying down ever had and Declan’s wheelchair had arrived (and been enchanted) a couple of days ago, the chronic illness struggle was real.
The only problem with skipping dinner was that dinner smelled amazing. Declan’s room was close enough to the kitchen and dining hall that he could smell what the dragons were cooking. And it smelled like beef stew.
Besides, Brenner ate dinner. Declan hadn’t seen Brenner all day, and he missed him. Silly, because the dragon was only a text away at all times. Dinner? Declan texted.
Already there, Brenner texted back.
Declan wheeled his chair out of his room and towards the dining hall. Seriously, how had he lived for so long without magic to open doors and make carpet easy to roll on?
Declan found Brenner at one end of the long dining tables, frowning at something on the screen of a laptop, a bowl of stew at his elbow. The dragon looked up and smiled as Declan rolled up to the table with his own bowl of stew and a plate of bread.
“Hi,” said Brenner as Declan put his meal on the table. The tables weren’t the ideal height for his chair, so he shifted onto the bench beside the dragon. Brenner scooted in a little to make room. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Sleeping, probably,” answered Declan. Was Brenner really saying what he thought he was saying?
“Before the sleeping.”
“I hadn’t planned anything in particular. Why?”
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
Declan gestured to their bowls of stew, deliberately misunderstanding for comedic effect. “We’re having dinner now.”
“I was thinking of something slightly more special, but if you’d prefer to do this instead…”
“Of course not, you daft lizard! I would love to have a special dinner with you!” Declan grinned.
“Oh, good. Tomorrow night, north terrace, six thirty?”
“Sounds perfect. I thought you’d never ask. I was trying to think of how I could ask you out, but I didn’t have any good ideas.”
“The only reason I waited so long is that I didn’t have any good ideas either,” Brenner confessed.
“I’m glad one of us had a breakthrough,” said Declan. He ate some of his soup while Brenner clicked away on his laptop. “What are you working on?”
“The calendar. Want to help?” Brenner angled the laptop so Declan could also see.
“Sure.” Declan looked at the screen and nearly choked on a potato.
The screen was half-filled by a picture of Brenner lounging on a chez in a long, black coat a highwayman might have worn over a bare chest and very, very tight leather breeches. Brenner looked out at the viewer with sultry, bedroom eyes. Declan may have squeaked.
“I’m having trouble deciding,” Brenner explained. “This one, or…” He clicked a thumbnail, changing the image. “This one.”
“That one,” said Declan immediately.
The second photo featured Brenner pointing a sword at the camera with a sexy smirk on his face and a gold pearl drop earring in his ear. It looked like he was about to have a homoerotic duel full of one-liners. The billowy black shirt open to the waist was the icing on the cake.
“You’re sure? The first one shows more skin.”
“Oh, the first one is sexy, no question. The second is sexy and FUN. Very Dread Pirate Roberts, if you’ve seen The Princess Bride.”
Brenner grinned. “It’s one of my favorite movies. That’s exactly what I was going for.”
“Second date idea: movie night. Assuming you don’t mind me quoting along with the entire film.”
“How could I, when I can’t stop myself from doing the exact same thing?”
“Then we’re going to have a fun movie night,” said Declan. “Assuming there’s popcorn in the castle. Is there popcorn in the castle?”
“There’s been popcorn in this castle since movies were invented.”
Declan laughed. “Perfect!” He took another look at the Dread Pirate Brenner picture, admiring everything about it. “You’re holding that sword like you know how to use it. Do you?”
“Oh, I can handle a sword,” said Brenner. “Both in a double entendre way and a stabby-slicey way.” He pointed to the sexy scar along his cheekbone. “This is a dueling scar.” He pointed to the scar beside his lip piercing. “So is this. There are a couple more I could show you later if you ask nicely.”
“I would love for you to tell me more, and maybe even…show me some swordplay…after dinner tomorrow,” said Declan.
“In which way?” Brenner asked.
“Depends on how dinner goes, doesn’t it?” Declan arched an eyebrow in what he hoped was a flirtatious manner. “But seriously, I want a closer look at that sword.”
“I’m not allowed to take my pants off in the dining hall anymore,” said Brenner.
Declan felt his cheeks go hot as he pictured what might be under Brenner’s pants. “I mean the bared steel in the photo. It looks late sixteenth century or early seventeenth century.”
“Late sixteenth century. I’d love to show it off.”
“How old ARE you?”
“Seven hundred and six last October.”
Declan whistled. “You were alive in the Dragon War! Did you fight in it?”
Brenner’s smile faded. “Anyone who could, did. Yes.”
“What was that like?”
Brenner’s typically open expression closed off. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but didn’t. Or couldn’t. He opened his mouth again, and a strangled croak escaped. He stood up and left. He bolted, rather, leaving his laptop and Declan behind.
Declan felt like puking. He’d destroyed everything they might have had between them.
Miserable, he did what anyone would do in that situation: he texted a friend. Most of his friends were in Dublin, Cork, or England, but there was one person he’d really connected with in the castle. He texted North. Mayday. I fucked up.
The response was nearly immediate. I’m coming. Where r u?
Meet me in my room. Declan didn’t want to have an emotional breakdown in the dining hall, and he could feel it rising up inside him.
He shifted himself into his wheelchair and picked up the half-empty bowls of stew in order to bus them. He realized that Brenner’s laptop was still on the table, that sexy pirate photo looking out of the screen at him with those beautiful mismatched eyes. He nearly lost it right then and there.
Declan picked up the laptop and tucked it into the chair beside him. Even if Brenner never wanted to speak to him again, North could get the laptop to him.
North met Declan outside his room. “Are you ok?” he asked.
Declan’s lip started to wobble. They managed to make it into the room before Declan burst into tears. “I’ve ruined it! I’ve ruined everything! I always ruin everything!” Declan sobbed.
North threw his arms around Declan, grabbing him into a tight hug. It helped. “I’m here for you.”
“You’re a better friend than I deserve. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have…” Declan sniffled. He tried not to get tears and snot all over North’s bedazzled red t-shirt, and he failed miserably. It felt like proof that he was a terrible, terrible person.
North’s phone made a “bloop” noise in his pocket. “That’s Warin,” he said, taking the phone out to read the text.
Declan straightened up and tried futilely to wipe the tears from his face. “Do you need to go?”
“No, I need to stay right here with you.” North frowned at the phone, thumbs flying as he texted a reply. “Here, sit here and put your feet up. You look pale.” North made Declan sit on the sofa and put his feet on an ottoman.
“I’m Irish. I’m always pale.” Declan tried to joke, and he hated how shaky his voice sounded.
“Can you tell me what happened?” North sat beside Declan.
“Brenner asked me out.”
“Finally! Cassie owes me ten euro.”
“But then I fucked up the date before it even started! That’s a record, even for me. I brought up the war, and he, like, shut down, and then I kept going like an ass. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He fucking ran.”
“It’s not you he ran from. Pretty sure it’s trauma.” North patted Declan’s shoulder reassuringly.
“But I triggered it! I should have known! I should have shut the fuck up the second he stopped smiling. I’m the least sensitive person alive.”
“No. The least sensitive person alive wouldn’t be upset right now.”
North was right, but… “Brenner deserves someone better than me,” mumbled Declan.
“No,” said North firmly. “He wants you. Not someone “better than you,” whatever that even is. I think y’all are made for each other.”
“You think?”
“Totally.” North smiled at Declan. “You’re both smart. I’m sure y’all can work this out.”
“God, I hope so. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I thought I was in love once, but it was nothing like this.”
“See, and that’s how I know it’s going to ok. Lemme get you a glass of water.” North got up, went to the bathroom, and returned with a glass of water and a box of tissues. Declan drank the water and felt a fractional amount better.
Declan’s phone buzzed with a text message alert. It was Brenner. Brenner was ok. Maybe things really would be all right.
**
Brenner’s throat closed up. The war. The Jaeggi. The dining hall was huge, but it felt like it was squeezing in around him. He tried to speak. He couldn’t. He needed open air. He needed to fly. His inner dragon needed to know that he could stretch his wings or else…
He fled.
Moments later, when he was in the air, when he felt like he could breathe again, Brenner realized that he’d ruined everything.
Brenner landed on the roof of the castle and shifted back into his human form. He crumpled up into the fetal position, shaking, and sobbed.
He couldn’t fix things with Declan on his own, maybe couldn’t fix things at all. He needed a friend. When the shaking stopped, he texted Warin. Help. I fucked up.
The response was immediate. Coming. Where?
The roof.
Moments later, Warin arrived as a huge red dragon and shifted to his human form. He sat beside Brenner. “Are you ok?”
“No. Declan mentioned the war and I ran. He must hate me now.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. He’s too sweet for that,” said Warin. “Talk to him.”
“I can’t. I couldn’t. He asked an innocent, simple question, and I just… And this is important to him. This is what he’s studying, for fuck’s sake. And I want to tell him, I do, I want to tell him everything, but whenever it comes up, the walls, they feel like they’re closing in!” Even the memory of the feeling started him shaking again. This was the worst the panic had been in decades.
“So have the conversation outside.”
Brenner blinked at his friend. “Why are you a genius?”
Warin shrugged. “Tell him what’s going on. He’s smart. He’ll understand, even if it takes a lot of tiny conversations and panic attacks.”
Brenner looked at the dragon who had been his best friend for centuries, the dragon who had saved his life more than once. Warin’s phone was in his hand. “Who are you texting?” Brenner asked.
“North. He’s with Declan. He’s upset, too.”
“Oh, God! What did I do?” wailed Brenner. “What if I’ve ruined it? Warin, I think he’s my mate!”
“The entire castle thinks he’s your mate.”
“They do?” Brenner wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a snail trail of ugly-crying snot.
“Who else laughs at your jokes?”
Brenner managed a weak chuckle. “Good point.”
“You can fix this. I don’t think anything’s even broken. Just talk to him, ok?”
“Ok.” Brenner took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ok. I’m gonna talk to him. I can do this.”
“You can do this,” affirmed Warin. He patted Brenner on the back. “You’ve got this.”
“I’ve got this. Ok. Thanks.”
Brenner transformed into his dragon form and flew down to his balcony. He owned one of the few balconies in the castle that could accommodate a dragon form. Important, because he often slept on his balcony when he had a bad night. If the night was truly, truly bad, his human form felt too confining and he slept on the balcony as a dragon.
In human form, he entered his room through the huge French doors. He went to his bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He looked awful. Eyes red and puffy, nose dripping. He’d cried a truly ugly cry.
He went back outside and texted Declan. I want to apologize. Please come to my room?
The three “typing” dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. A text came through. I’ll be there. I have your laptop. I’m sorry.
**
Declan raised his fist to knock on Brenner’s door. He’d known where his rooms were since day two, but he’d never seen the inside of them. Before he could knock, the door swung open. Brenner looked rumpled and his eyes were red and swollen. Declan hadn’t looked in a mirror, but he imagined that his eyes matched the dragon’s.
“I’m sorry,” they both said simultaneously.
“You go-“ began Declan.
“No, you go first-“ Brenner said.
“I, er, brought your laptop.” Declan indicated the electronic device in his lap.
“Oh, wow, thanks! I appreciate that. Um. I was going to give these to you after our dinner, but…” Brenner held out a green bag of Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles.
Declan took the candy. “How did you know?”
“I may have asked your mother. Come in?” Brenner pointed into the room and stepped out of the doorway to admit Declan’s wheelchair.
“Right! Of course.” Declan wheeled inside. The décor of the sitting room/bedroom was all in shades of blue and the ceiling was painted to look like a sky full of puffy clouds. It wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small, either, and a pair of large French doors led out to an enormous balcony.
“I want to explain,” said Brenner. “Would you mind if we went outside?”
“Not at all.” Declan set the laptop on the coffee table in front of Brenner’s blue settee.
Brenner opened one of the French doors and they went out onto the balcony. It looked like Brenner spent as much time out here as he did inside. There was a small table, the most comfortable-looking patio chair Declan had ever seen, and a round daybed with a shade over it.
Brenner sat on the daybed. “I’m sorry I ran out on you like that.”
“You don’t have to apologize. That was a panic attack, right?” Brenner nodded. “I’m so sorry I triggered that! I didn’t mean to.”
“No, it’s all right. You couldn’t have known. I didn’t use to be like this, but…” Brenner looked down at his hands in his lap.
Declan wheeled close. Their knees were almost touching. “Something happened to you. You don’t have to tell me.”
Brenner looked up at him, mismatched eyes intense. “I want to, though. I’ve never been able to tell anyone who wasn’t…there, and I think it might help.”
“Whatever you need. Anything at all.”
“In the war, I… I did a lot of scouting. Spying, even.”
Declan nodded. “Of course. You speak at least a dozen languages like a native speaker.”
“Exactly. I…” Brenner’s hands clenched into fists, then unclenched. “I got caught.”
Declan gasped. “By the Jaeggi?”
Brenner nodded mutely. He closed his eyes. Declan watched a tear slide down his face. He felt the urge to sit next to Brenner, to put his arm around him. So he did. Brenner leaned into him.
Brenner didn’t open his eyes, but he started speaking again. “There are spells that paralyze all your voluntary muscles. Can’t shift. Can’t scream. Can’t fly.”
“So, you’re telling me that “hold person” is a real spell.” Declan made a lame DnD joke.
It worked. Brenner managed a weak chuckle. “It’s much worse in real life, because it lasts longer than a minute. I was in dragon form, and they…they, um…” He started to shake, tears running down his face. But instead of pulling away, he got closer, crumpling into Declan’s arms.
Declan started petting Brenner’s silky auburn hair, murmuring, “It’s ok. I’m here. It’s ok.”
“They were taking me apart for spell elements,” whispered Brenner. Declan thought he must have misheard. Surely no one could do something so horrible to a living being.
“What?” Declan breathed, horrified.
“Scales. Teeth. Tears.”
“My God.” He needed a time machine so that he could go murder the mages who had hurt his dragon himself.
“If Warin hadn’t… if he hadn’t…” Brenner couldn’t finish. He didn’t need to. If Warin hadn’t rescued him, he would have been another casualty. That thought chilled Declan to the bone.
“But he did. And you’re here. You’re ok. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Declan repeated those words over and over as Brenner wept.
After several minutes, Brenner sat up. He wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m broken.” His voice was thick and stuffed up.
“No,” said Declan firmly. “You’re no more broken than I am.”
Brenner smiled a little. “You know, maybe I’ll give therapy another try. Now that I can be honest.”
“That’s a good idea. Therapy’s really helped me before.”
Brenner took a deep breath and sighed it out. Declan could practically see him picking up the pieces of his cheerful mask and putting them back together. “So…Do you still want to do dinner tomorrow night?”
“I want to do dinner with you every night,” Declan blurted. He realized what he’d said and blushed bright red. He covered his mouth.
Brenner beamed. “I feel the same way. Could you…Could you stay for a little while?”
“As long as you need. Would it help if we cuddled?”
“I…I think it would. Let me go get a blanket. Want to watch a movie?”
“With you? Yes. Always.”
Brenner went inside, then came back with his laptop and a fuzzy blue blanket. They curled up together under the blanket on the daybed outside, watched The Princess Bride, and ate Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles.
It felt to both of them like a puzzle piece slotted into place. This was it. This was perfect.