Page 60 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
And at the same time, horror washed through him. Because Jack recognised this man.
He’d seen him years ago when he and his family had gone to see a royal procession. The king had ridden through the streets, accompanied by other royals, including the man who stood before him now.
Someone in the crowd had whispered, “That’s the Dragon Duke.”
Of course, Jack had heard stories and rumours of the Dragon Duke. He had lands and wealth and power beyond which Jack could imagine. He was hundreds of years old. He was on the royal council.
He was an adviser to the king. He had been an adviser to the previous king, and the king before that. He’d fought in wars and led armies into battle, swooping down in his dragon form and breathing fire on enemies.
Jack couldn’t move.
The Dragon Duke was Avery’s father.
Should I bow? Kneel? Pissing potions! What should I do?
Jack lowered his gaze. He was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to meet a duke’s gaze. Or was that the king? How the fuck was Jack meant to know?
Why hadn’t Avery told Jack the Dragon Duke was his father?
And if Avery’s father was a duke, didn’t that make Avery a lord, or earl, or something like that?
Why didn’t Avery tell me?
Jack had pointed out their differences in class and money. He’d explained his concerns. Avery had seemed to understand, or at least he had tried to. So why had Avery not bothered to mention his father was one of the most powerful individuals in the kingdom?
Jack’s pulse raced alongside his thoughts.
But perhaps this man wasn’t Avery’s father. Maybe it was a relative or someone who just looked similar. Perhaps all dragons had golden eyes and brilliant copper hair.
Jack glanced at him again.
The Dragon Duke’s gaze raked Jack up and down. He sneered. “Servants enter at the back.” He turned away and faced the door, clearly dismissing Jack.
Jack’s cheeks burned as humiliation flooded his body. “I’m…a… I’m…I’m not…,” he stuttered. He couldn’t form words. Why couldn’t he form words?
Memories of years before, of begging his aunt and uncle for help, flew through his mind. He remembered their faces, so cold and unfeeling as they sneered and looked down on him.
Body flushing with shame, Jack shrank in on himself, feeling two inches tall and like he’d rolled around in frog guts. “I…I…”
The duke glared at him. “What are you still doing here? Are you some sort of idiot? If you are delivering something, you can leave it at the back door.” Displeasure dripped from each word. He clearly had no time for servants who did not know their place.
This could not be Avery’s father. How could this man create someone as sweet and kind as Avery?
Jack’s mouth moved. But no words came out.
The door opened. Daniel stood before them. He bowed, glancing between Jack and the Duke.
“Giles, take the packages from this fucking moron!” the duke snapped. “He can’t seem to understand that he is meant to go around the back. Perhaps he is too stupid to find the way.” The duke stepped into the house.
Mortification burned through Jack.
“Unbelievable.” The duke muttered, tugging his gloves off. “Fucking unbelievable.” He didn’t look at Jack.
After all, Jack didn’t deserve to be seen by dukes, lords, and other royal figures. People like Jack were too far beneath him.
They should go around the back. They should never be seen.
Daniel reached out and took the packages from Jack. He leaned close. “Best come back when Avery’s father is gone,” he whispered. Then he pulled back and shut the door in Jack’s face.
