Page 9 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
“Sir, His Grace, Duke Azer, is in the drawing room.”
It took Avery a second to collect himself. “I see.” He dropped his hand from the shelf. “I will be there shortly.”
The butler bowed and left. Avery set his tea down on a side table. He walked to the door, letting his fingers drift along the spines and covers, feeling the ridges of the embedded lettering.
As he left the library, he closed the door. He made his way down the hall and entered the drawing room. Duke Azer gazed at several books that sat on the floor beside a chair.
Avery’s hands twitched.
They weren’t messy. Not really. The four books sat neatly piled. Except for one, which lay open. But Avery knew that Duke Azer would disapprove of even that level of disorder.
Avery swallowed. He tried so hard to keep this room up to the duke’s standards. After all, it was the only room the duke ever saw. But the books always had a way of migrating and moving and ending up everywhere.
He’d be reading a book, or two, or three, or debating which to start reading. He’d carry them. He’d wander between rooms, and sometimes, without even realising it, he’d place the books down. He read wherever he was. He lost track of time as he got lost in words and worlds. Then he’d drift to a different room and a new book.
This was his home. His den. Books should be everywhere, filling every inch and cranny so no matter where he went, he’d not be far from his books.
Duke Azer should understand that. He was a dragon too. He had a collection of weapons, ancient and antique. Avery had never seen it himself. But his father had spoken of it. Yet he’d never called it his hoard.
Hoards were what dragons who lived in caves called their collections. Those dragons lived in darkness, lying on top of piles of gold or whatever they hoarded. They lost themselves, theircontrol, and their dignity. His father had told him it was fine to collect things, as long as one did it with dignity and control.
After all, they were civilised dragons.
Avery struggled with control sometimes. He grabbed the stray books on the floor and shoved them on a shelf. He winced as a twinge of guilt flared inside him. He’d been too rough with his precious books. They were old and needed proper care.
I’m sorry,he gave a silent apology. He patted the spines, hoping no damage had been done with his rushed recklessness.
Gaze still on the books, Avery sat opposite the duke.
The duke held his cup of tea in his hand, watching Avery. “How are you keeping?”
“Well. Very well, thank you, Father.” Avery pulled his shoulders back, trying to mirror the duke’s immaculate posture.
Duke Azer was everything a dragon should be. Strong, powerful, decisive, and intimidating. He had a noble and honourable lineage that could be traced to kings and queens who’d ruled nations. He’d fought in wars. He was an adviser to the king. And the king before. And the king before that.
There was only one thing Duke Azer was ashamed of.
Avery.
His bastard son.
Avery had been born of a human and dragon union. A mistake. His father had been clear about that. The duke had been wrong to behave as he did. Thus Avery’s very existence was wrong and his father deeply regretted him. But Avery was still his son and therefore his duty. The duke would not shun a duty.
His father nodded. “Good. That’s good.” He took a sip of tea.
“And you?”
“Well enough.” The duke crossed his leg over his knee. “It’s the Christmas season. It’s always a busy time of year. Always some winter or Christmas-themed party or ball that I’mexpected to go to. Feels like I have to go to every single one in order to keep the duchess and the children happy.”
Avery nodded. “And how is the duchess and your children?” The duke had two children with Duchess Azer, his mated wife. The duke’s daughter, Lady Isabelle Azer, was almost half Avery’s age, being forty-two. The duke’s son, Marquess Azer, would turn ten in the spring.
“All good. All good.” The duke rested his hand on his knee. “Isabelle’s winter-themed wedding is fast approaching. It will take place just after the New Year.” He shook his head. “The ladies are very busy planning.”
And after the wedding, Lady Isabelle would no doubt form a mating bond with her spouse in a private ritual. The wedding would be for society. The mating ritual would be for the couple alone.
Avery nodded. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful wedding, and I’m sure Lady Isabelle will look beautiful and make you proud.”
“Of course she will,” his father said with a matter-of-fact tone.
