Page 58 of Dragon Keeper
“He’s pregnant, Harden.” Sloan lowered his voice. “What would normally be fine is really different to him now.”
“Well… I didn’t mean to hurt him. He’s my friend. The brother of my soul. Why didn’t he just say so?”
“Because he thinks he’s going to be a terrible father.” Sloan sighed. “It’s been a wild ride.” God, it was pretty out here right now though. They’d had a snow last night, and he loved how it made everything soft.
“What should I do? I haven’t seen him very much… does he want company? I can bring jerky and wine…”
“I think it would be great if you and Cade came, maybe. Poe too. I think he feels very alone, even with me there all the time now.” Poor Tyr just didn’t have a whole herd of dragon relatives.
“He usually comes to town four or five times a week, but we haven’t seen him.”
“No. I know.” Sloan grinned. “So I came to get you. And maybe kick you a little. Come to dinner?”
“Of course. Does he need anything from town? Uh… wool? Butter? Books?”
“Yes.” If Harden wanted to bring gifts, then Sloan would surely let him. “He needs his clutch. Like his very own support system.”
“Sure. That’s why we’re here. We’ll play some cards, tell stories before the fire. I can spend the night, even.”
“That sounds perfect, my friend.” He clapped Harden on the shoulder. “Now, I’m off to trade for pickles.”
“Oh, I’ll bring some spiced meat. It goes great with pickles.”
“Thanks, Harden. I appreciate it.” He waved, then headed off to meet with a gardener named Joliah, who apparently made fruit pickles. Tyr actually teared up thinking about them this morning, so Sloan was going to get them. Period.
“Mate of Tyr! How does the day find you?” Joliah had a case of pickles waiting for him, plus some amazing crumbly cheese.
“I am well.” He produced a lovely red stone. Apparently, the metalsmith was going to make it into a diadem for Joliah’s mate. “Will this work?”
“Oh, it’s more than enough. In fact, I will provide pickles until Tyr tires of them.”
His eyes went wide. “Tyr wept for your wares, Joliah.”
The dragon’s scales rattled, a deep blue flush on his cheeks. “I am sorry he is out of sorts, but I am so pleased if my pickles give him happiness.”
“They truly do.” Sloan took the box Joliah handed him, and he was surprised when he got a kiss on both cheeks. “Bright blessings, mate of Tyr. My mate will love his stone.”
“Will you be attending the Thanksgiving at Poe’s?”
“The Giving Feast or Friend’s Feast? Yes, we wouldn’t miss it.”
“Tyr and I will both see you there, then.” The Giving Feast. He loved that. He thought Tyr called it Friend’s Day as well. This was how legends and traditions were born, and he was getting to see it firsthand.
“If you check with Mistress Feyana, I think you will find she has some amazing butters today.”
“Thank you.” Bread and butter had quickly becomehisfavorite treat here. It was rich and rustic and so damn yummy. So he would go see the lady dragon in question.
He made his way to the tiny shop next door to the bakery, hoping she would remember him. Tyr had introduced them once when taking her honey for her butter.
“Ah, bright blessings, Sloan!” Feyana looked up, smiling as the bell at her door tinkled. “I see you got pickles.”
“I did, yes. My pregnant mate wanted them so much he cried.”
“Ah. And now you would like butter to go with the bread next door?”
“Yes, my lady.” Sloan bowed as much as he could holding a crate of pickles. “That’s for me.”
Her laughter was much like the bell over her door. A round little dragon, she had wild pink scales that marched from her neck to her scalp, and a pair of golden eyes. She was lovely and sharp as a tack.
