Page 54

"Yes. Now you do. And he'll work on it if you make him. He’ll do better, too."

"You're starting to sound an awful lot like an abuse apologist," Hadi warns.

"No, just a dragon who knows how Dav thinks. Listen, Colin… do you know how suicidal dragons kill themselves?"

" What ," I screech.

Hadi backs off to round on Onatah. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Onatah looks up at us both placidly. "Do you?"

"No!" My skin tightens in horror. "Of course not!"

"They cut themselves off," Onatah says. "They build walls, and they hide behind them."

Jesus fucking Christ.

She's not subtle. I knew Dav was unhappy before we got together. But I didn't realize he was this unhappy.

"They wait for the next war," Onatah adds, leaning back, eyes soft.

"Oh god." I was not prepared for this conversation. "Why would he…?"

"He thinks it's right that he wither away. Whether or not you or I, or anyone else who knows the full story agrees, Dav thinks it was his fault."

"But he's surrounded by humans." I point out.

"Servants," Onatah says, nose wrinkling.

"Not a community, not the way it's supposed to be.

He doesn't…" she groans, and tries again.

"Dragons aren’t supposed to be so isolated that another dragon leaving a scent on a Favorite makes that happen.

" She gestures at my wrist. "You follow me?

Dragons need humans, the same way humans need dragons.

We're as one species, Colin. The European dragons, they've…

I don't know, forgotten it. Or are willfully ignoring it.

" Frustrated, she scratches at the base of a horn. "They're idiots."

"At least that's something we agree on."

"Let me explain it another way. What if you had a dog—"

"Not a pet," I snap.

"Dav is the dog. So, let’s say you leave a dog in a room with a high-pitched whistle, and it howls and scratches, and you don't let it out. And after hours, you go into the room, and it's backed into the corner, teeth out. You pet it, like nothing's wrong. What's gonna happen?"

"It's stressed out and uncomfortable," Pedra says. "It's gonna bite."

We all look at the cut in the center of the hickeys on my wrist.

"Dav's trapped and stressed out?" Hadi asks. "Since Charlotte."

"Yeah," Onatah says. "And Simcoe's punishment made it worse. No Favorite for a century , no community engagement, no going into other's territories. Practically had him on house arrest."

"I am liking this guy less and less," Hadi growls.

Pedra squeezes Onatah's hand pensively. "Do you think it's deliberate? Simcoe deliberately stressing him out, isolating him, siccing him on Colin. Do you think that he…?" She turns her gaze up at Onatah, questioning.

"In my opinion?" Onatah says. "Yeah."

"What, so the Lieutenant Governor is what, trying to scare Colin away?" Hadi splutters. "Maybe get him killed ?"

"Frank's always been envious of Dav," Onatah says. "His territory, his military victories, his father's admiration, his easy charm."

"You should have seen the way he glared at Dav last night," I tell them, instead of letting myself think about what Hadi is proposing. It’s too big, right now. "And he's totally uncool about Dav and Laura being friends."

"Laura?" Pedra asks.

"Simcoe’s Favorite. Laura Secord."

Hadi goggles at me. "When were you gonna tell me you met Laura fucking Secord ?"

"I just did."

Pedra hums again, brain still whirring, and then, slowly, like her words are wild creatures she's afraid of letting loose, says: "Are we sure Charlotte’s death was an accident?"

"She fell off a cliff, she wasn't shot by an assassin," Hadi says.

Onatah and Pedra exchange a glance, but neither says anything.

It's a minute before I can work up the spit and the courage to ask: "Do you think… Do you think he's a danger to himself? Will he—"

"No," Onatah cuts in. "Draconic instincts don't work like that. Sarah, the kids, the farm, he can’t abandon them. Do you understand? He physically could not do that to himself. None of us could."

I’m relieved to hear it in a small, shamefully selfish way.

If he… if he dies.

If he does, then… Then it isn't my fault.

Hopefully.

"But if there was a barn fire, or another war, or something?" Onatah goes on. "Then before you, I might have said that I think he wouldn't be… as careful as he should be."

"Fuck," I say. My heart is beating too fast, I’m lightheaded and tingly with the drive to runscreampunch that has nowhere to go.

"You can't ask Colin to go back into a potentially dangerous situation because Dav might off himself," Hadi says, angry and blunt. "Dav's choices are not on Colin."

"No," I agree. "But I put on the pin. And that has responsibilities attached to it. And nothing will change that."

I'm trapped.

Doesn't matter if Dav hurts me again or not—he wouldn't, not on purpose, any more than that stressed dog can help biting—but nothing will change the fact that this is where I am. Now. Forever. This is what I am.

I am… Nothing.

Whatever shrapnel was in my lungs melts, liquifies, slides away.

And is replaced with…

Nothing.

Outside of Beanevolence, a car horn sounds.

It's a Helios. Gray. Tasteful. Patient.

I stand. Wipe my face. "That's my ride."

"Colin," Hadi says, tight. "I'll check on you, okay? I'll—"

"I'm fine."

I head for the door.

What else can I do?

Nothing.

Onatah walks me outside.

"Thank you," I say.

"For?"

"Dropping everything to help me."

She sticks her hands in her back pockets, all cocky swagger. "Maybe I'm helping Dav." She smirks at me and I let her push away my gratitude.

Doesn't mean I don't feel it though.

"Thank you for helping him, too. I get now that you're kinda the only one who does."

Whatever infinitesimal respect Onatah may have for British draconic propriety goes out the window, and she clutches me close in a firm hug.

"You guys don’t deserve to spend the rest of your lives being bullied," she whispers in my ear as she lets go.

Janet gets out of the car, and opens the rear door.

"Master Levesque?" Janet says softly.

I stand on the sidewalk, hands shoved in my pockets. "What if I asked you to drive me to Orillia? To my family?"

Janet is too stoic to squirm. "I'd do it. But I would stay. I couldn't leave you there."

"What if I asked you to drive me to the airport?"

For a split second, anguish crawls over her face, but is quickly doused. "Please," she says. "Please don't, sir."

"No. Of course not," I say, and climb into the car, because what else can I do?

Nothing.