Page 181 of Nine-Tenths

Dr. Chen would be proud.

The only finger it fits on, however, is my pinkie.

I decide to wear it on my left hand, where it won't get in the way. It has nothing to do with the fact that Dav almost always takes my left hand when we walk. Nope. Nosiree.

"Suits you, son," Owain says.

My chest is bursting with a kind of warmth I can't name, but don't hate. Pride swells in me. I feel like, for just a moment, my Dad is sitting here with us, approving, when Owain calls me that.

"Yeah," I agree. "It does."

Our dragons bluster in a few hours later, wind-swept and readjusting their clothes.

Dav crowds into the chair with me. It's way too small for both of us, so I end up perched on his lap. Owain and Paulette take over a sofa, too dignified to squish up like us youngin's.

"You smell like rain," I tell him.

"We came through a shower." He presses his cold nose against my nape and I yelp. I take both of Dav’s hands between mine to warm them up, which makes the ring wink in the lamplight. Dav gets a good look at my new accessory.

"Da," he says, looking up at Owain. "This is yours."

"And now it's Colin's," Owain says.

Vibrating with a joy so profound I can actuallyfeelit thrumming between us, Dav lays a thorough kiss on me.

By the bar, two of the old regulars whistle and clap.

"Good flight despite the rain?" Owain asks when Dav lets me up for air.

"Mmm, yes," Dav says. "Long time since I've done that."

"And I missed it?" I grouch, working up a pout.

"We'll go flying together when the weather's nicer." He shakes the water out of his hair like a playful puppy.

"Promise?" I ask. "The first sunny day?"

Dav exchanges a long, meaningful look with his mother. "Or when we're home." I pin Dav with a look, forcing him to elaborate. "Simcoe's connections are simply better than ours. Mother hasn't been to court in so long, and I've been absent for decades. We find that re-entering politics once we've recused ourselves from it so thoroughly, is a challenge we're having trouble surmounting."

I take a second to parse his meaning. "You can'tgive up."

"We are out of favors to cash in, and every string has been pulled. We’ve been denied."

"Yeah, but bywho," I push. "Like, the queen hasn't actually told you this herself, has she?"

"No," Dav allows.

"Then, I don't know… we have to try harder."

"There is a blockage at her advisers," Paulette grumbles. "I do feel certain she would at least listen to your proposal, if you could—ah, but the court is so convoluted."

"So we find a way to cut through it. There's gotta be… didn’t commoners used to petition royalty directly on open court days and, I don't know, give them a chicken for their table?"

"Genovia isn't a real country," Dav reminds me with a chuckle.

He steals a sip of my beer. I may be on my third, or fourth one, I don't remember, so I'm feeling tipsy and passionate, and yeah, a little horny watching him put his mouth right where mine was not a few minutes earlier.

"What about going to tea or something, then. A social call. Surely as family—"