Page 44 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
“Yes, that’s right.” Valeraine put a bit of quiche in her mouth, and it was heavenly. She again mourned her un-savored dinner.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for. However, Miss Longbourn...”
Valeraine looked up from her plate. Elfrieda was frowning, her arms crossed.
“Don’t agree to anything you’ll regret,” Elfrieda said. “My brother can be persuasive, but he doesn’t always live up to his promises.” With that, Elfrieda left the table.
Her plate was cleared away, but the newspaper remained on the table.
Valeraine began reading, starting with Scaleheart, of course. It was a piece on hatch-mothering. Valeraine carefully ripped the article out of the newspaper, and tucked it in her pocket. The advice would be useful soon, she was sure. When she had her own hatchling, she would tame it carefully. She wished Lady Scaleheart were here so she could pry her for more details. She would have to find a matron to mentor her, when her egg was hatched.
When Valeraine stood up from the table, and the serving woman moved forward to take her plate, she realized she recognized this servant. Not just from dinner yesterday, but from last year, at a ball she had attended.
“Excuse me, but are you… Miss Wintgomery?”
The woman ducked her head. “Yes, I am.”
“How long... I mean, it’s so tragic. But I don’t need to tell you that.”
Miss Wintgomery laughed bitterly. “No, you do not. Perhaps I should tell you, instead.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to —”
“It would be instructive. Your house’s dragon is ailing, is it not? Any day now you will be in my position: the girl who was once part of a dragon house.”
“Our dragon isn’t so poorly as that.”
Miss Wintgomery shrugged. “I’m not supposed to argue with the guests.” She took Valeraine’s plate away.
Valeraine felt a little weak in the knees.
If Papa disowned her, she could be serving tables in a month.
If Lelantos died, that would be her whole family’s lot. They would lose first their status, then money, then land, then the last scrap of dignity.
Valeraine wouldn’t let that happen.
It was time to meet with Mr. Rosings.
There were two buildings that made up Rosings nest, each of which could hold twelve dragons. Valeraine pushed open the door to the first nest building, and heat washed over her. It might feel nice in the middle of winter, but now the nest was sweltering. Lelantos was always warm to the touch, but this felt like the heat of a hot summer day. It was the heat of a building full of dragons.
The next thing she noticed was the smell. She was familiar with the stench of dragon guano (though she had managed to always dodge the chore of shoveling it, using her status as a lady). This guano smelled sick, or perhaps they had let it rot instead of collecting it as fertilizer. The last thing to hit her was the noise. Snuffling, growling, some little screeches that she couldn’t quite place — they might be hatchlings. There were also people shouting.
“Come here! Get your wing over —”
“Just a little bit more, that’s it.”
“You stupid —”
This is what Longbourn could be in a hundred years: bustling and powerful (though in her dream, it wouldn’t smell so rank). She counted six dragons in their stalls right now, and probably fifteen people working in the nest. Half of the dragons were pure white in color. The rest of the dragons were a variety of colors and builds, less closely related.
Valeraine asked a servant for directions, and was brought to Mr. Rosings in one of the stalls. He was stroking the nose of the white dragon from the derbies, which had sharp claws on the ends of its wings and a sleek body made for speed.
“Mr. Rosings,” she began. “That’s a spectacular dragon.”
He turned and gave her a charming smile, glorying in her attention and flattery. She had him in the palm of her hand. “We are always spectacular, aren’t we? This is Yokull.” He gave the dragon an affectionate pat. “It’s almost time to retire him from racing; it’s been fifteen years with him as our primary. I haven’t yet chosen our next primary, but once I train them, they’ll be even better than Yokull.”
“Your nest is full of winning dragons.” Valeraine thought she might be laying it on too thick, but Rosings seemed to only take it as his due.
