Valeraine’s mind was all a whirl. A grand dragon house as their neighbor? There would be so many more derbies, so many more balls to attend. And, her courageous heart whispered, with that new nest would come possibilities of trade.
“Mamma,” Valeraine asked, “Did the paper say how many eggs Mr. Nethenabbi would be bringing with him?”
Mamma, glad for any excuse to ignore Selaide’s tantruming, seized on this question. “I’m sure they’ll bring at least a few. They are establishing a whole nest, after all.”
“They? Who else is coming?”
“It mentioned some sister,” Mamma replied, “to hatch-mother the eggs. Of course, once Mr. Nethenabbi falls in love with one of my beautiful daughters, he will not need his sister to play at being mistress of the nest.”
Valeraine ventured, “Surely Nethenabbi might appreciate help from Lelantos to burn the weeds from his fields. He will only have the one adult dragon he is bringing, nest-tetchy and irritable at being so far from its home.”
“Oh, Val, he will not be impressed with our Lelantos,” Mamma said. “But perhaps after he has wed one of you, he could be persuaded to buy the dragon? Yes, it would make a fine gesture of goodwill between our houses to take the old beast off our hands.”
Valeraine pressed on, “If he has no dragon to work in his own nest, Lelantos could be of actual help. In tilling and harvesting, even in hauling materials for the new nest building. With that kind of deal, we could trade for an egg and —”
Mamma dismissed the idea with a flap of her hand. “It will be much simpler to install one of you as the mistress of Netherfield, will it not?” Catching a brilliant idea, Mamma said, “I will send your father to call on the Nethenabbis at once, to invite them for tea. There are other eligible women in the neighborhood, after all, and we must gain an advantage by making their acquaintance first.”
Valeraine took a steadying breath. She said, levelly, “I must go help in our nest.” She left the room, not waiting for Mamma to acknowledge her excuse. If she had stayed, listening to Mamma plan to waive their house’s potential and settle for only a marriage, she would have said something regrettable. WhatValeraine needed now was to talk with someone who would see the Nethenabbis for what they could be: the chance for Longbourn house to rise from its dilapidation.
Chapter three
The Nethenabbi Affair
by our trusted correspondent, Scaleheart
The Nethenabbi clan will build a nest in Galsopshire, which will be called Netherfield. The Nethenabbis presently have only one nest in Kinella, on the northern coast; this acts as a port for their shipping empire across the Potune Ocean. With ingenious breeding methods, their dragons are less nest-tetchy than any other. Thus they have made their fortune in dragon-assisted importing, as their dragons can roam farther from their nests without rampaging.
However, their reputation in Kinellan social circles has withered. They rarely participate in derbies, and when they do, they perform poorly and are still snubbed. Just last month, I witnessed one of the patriarchs of the Nethenabbi clan being ignored at a ball.
It now seems they are trying to rectify this. Mr. L— Nethenabbi (who will be the master of the new nest, Netherfield) has announced it will not be another depot on their shipping chain. (A prudent decision, as Galsopshire has no centers of industry to recommend it.) No, this will be a nest focused on agriculture and integrating into Kinellan dragoneer circles through derbies. He has participated in Kinellan derbies a few times before, but has never showed particularly well. (Most memorably, he was a key player in the incident that resulted in the loss of the arm of Mr. C—.)
I wish him luck, while wondering if there is enough luck to make up for his flighty and distracted manner. Perhaps he doubts himself, too, as he has said he will not be taking the surname Netherfield, but keeping Nethenabbi. Perhaps he is already trying to distance himself from this doomed project, or perhaps he simply doesn’t understand the traditions of Kinella.
Mr. Nethenabbi will be accompanied by his sister, a Miss N— Nethenabbi. She is accomplished at hatch-mothering, having cultivated eggs in the Nethenabbi holdings in Fellarik and Azazres. Suitors will no doubt flock to her; she has hinted at her intention to marry this year. With the prestige of the Nethenabbi clan, what dragoneer could refuse? Mr. L— Nethenabbi without a doubt will also field courtship salvos. It will be a race between the siblings to see which makes an alliance with a Kinellan house first.
Chapter four
There was one place for Valeraine to go where she felt truly at home and at peace, away from the twittering gossip of Selaide and the schemes of their mother. Her favorite place in all of Longbourn estate: the dragon nest.
The nest was a large, barn structure a few minutes’ walk from their manor house. Once, optimistic builders constructed stalls for six dragons. To her knowledge, Longbourn nest had three at its peak. Now, with their single dragon, it was much larger than they needed.
The room was appreciated by Lelantos, who could stretch his gargantuan wings across the expanse. Walls that had once separated three dragon-sized-stalls had been torn down decades ago, so Lelantos had triple the room he might have been allotted, if Longbourn house had been prosperous.
Valeraine dressed in practical clothes for working with a dragon: a thick blouse and divided skirts. The skirts were a dark brown, to hide stains and wear, but Valeraine liked to think itmatched her hair well enough to be a little fashionable (though Selaide would disagree). She entered the nest building through the person-sized door in the side, and could only smile at the sight that awaited her: Lelantos, curled up in his stall.
He was as long as six carriages from nose to tail, with a wingspan much longer. Dragons’ wings never stopped growing; Lelantos’ wings were magnificent. Though his wingspan didn’t rival the tall tales and myths of the greatest dragons, it was longer than any credible account Valeraine had found. The predictions that he would succumb to his age soon were not without basis, and were most often said after someone had seen him stretch out his wings.
Lelantos held his age in other places, too. His deep green scales had probably once been shiny, but now they were a dull matte. The claws that tipped his four legs were yellowed, and would snap if they were allowed to get too long. His dainty ear flaps were wrinkled, marking the places where he often creased them to show his displeasure, as they were positioned now.
The source of Lelantos’ ire was immediately apparent: Kesley was standing stiffly by the opposite wall of the nest, bristling with his own frustration. His brunette hair was slightly mussed and coming out of its braid, matching the stubble he cultivated. For formal occasions, Kesley shaved to show off his cocky jaw. But Valeraine preferred this raw, rough image of him. She knew that the image was crafted by Kesley, as he always put effort into his clothes (today, he wore a pale blue vest that perfectly contrasted with his light brown skin and dark trousers), but she admired the effect all the same. This was her Kesley: daringly tousled, color-coordinated, proud of his work, and wanting everyone to know it.
Kesley was of an age with Valeraine, a fact that had helped them bond in the three years he had lived at Longbourn. He was from Sidton house, which had three dragons and a superfluoussix sons. The Longbourn family, with no sons, had taken him on as almost an indentured servant, but of a much loftier position. Though Papa technically held the title of the Master of Longbourn nest, Kesley fulfilled much of the duties. He cared for Lelantos, and made sure the dragon was flown out to the tenant farmers to labor in their fields. There were servants to do the most onerous tasks, such as shoveling out the dragon guano. But the great responsibility of wrangling Lelantos was on Kesley’s shoulders.
It was a responsibility that Valeraine often assisted with, because Lelantos could not be persuaded to be civil to Kesley. The time Valeraine and Kesley spent together in the nest was barely considered proper, as they were busy with an important job and there were often servants present. It was one of the small benefits of being an insignificant house: their behavior was only worth gossiping about if it crossed the line of propriety. So long as they only toed the line, society continued to ignore them.
Valeraine leaned on the wall next to him. “What has he done this time?” she teased. There was always some new prank underway.
“When I tried to put the saddle on him, he burned my shoes.” Kesley admitted, still glaring at Lelantos.
