Given

Chapter 3:2

With his dinner plans ruined, Weysh now swooped in on the Duval mansion. A true dragon manor, the front space held little more than a large landing green fenced in by a stone balustrade. Grand trees towered well past the red-bricked roof, rising up on either side of the manse. Weysh's shriek cut the air, and as he landed Harth's signature scent hit his nostrils, a mix of pine and charcoal and metal, among other things. He came out the front door not long after.

"The kitchen's closed!" Harth shouted. "There's nothing left, you stray. Shoo!"

Weysh roared. Come and make me!

Harth answered the challenge, and Weysh made out only a flash of green before his friend was on him, growling and snapping. Weysh reared up and swiped, keeping his wings close. Harth darted left, bent low, and butted Weysh in the stomach. Weysh grunted and tried to grab his friend's neck, but Harth jumped back quick as a flit-fish. They circled each other, growling and screeching insults, until Harth flew at Weysh, knocking him back. The two dragons tangled on the grass, each trying to catch hold of a tail or wing, trying to gain the advantage until Weysh pinned Harth down, his claws pricking the tender flesh under the green dragon's neck.

Harth screeched. All right!

Weysh let him up, and they switched, both panting on the grass.

Harth rubbed his throat. "I suppose we might be able to find you some bones or some such. Or we could salvage whatever Wrenny didn't finish from the garbage."

Weysh stood. "Like hell," he said. "I smell roast duck." He sniffed. "With hotberry jelly."

"You didn't eat at your Maman's place, en?"

"No," Weysh said, and left it at that. Harth didn't push the subject. But talking about his mother reminded Weysh of why he'd visited her in the first place. He reached out and clasped Harth's arm, helping him to his feet. "How is my Given?"

Harth sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Food first," he said. "Come on."

"Have you mentioned anything about her to your parents?" Weysh said under his breath.

Harth paused. "I have not. Neither has Sui."

"Good. Let's keep it that way, en? At least until I have another chance to talk to her."

Harth led Weysh to the main entrance, where old Dupont waited to greet them. "Master Nolan! So good to see you, young sir."

"Likewise, Dupont! How are your wife and daughters?"

Dupont cleared his throat and blushed, as if his face strove to match the crimson of his servant's cravat.

Harth laughed, loud and hearty. "Have no fear, Dupont. Your daughters are safe. From this miscreant, at least."

"Yes, well, right this way, young masters."

Weysh loved the scentlessness of Harth's family home. Since they were all dragons, Harth's mother didn't keep a lot of flowers or incense around. He'd have his Given do the same when she decorated their manor.

Only savory smells greeted him as he followed Harth through the wide foyer. Harth's mother Maree waited at the entrance to the dining room, Harth's baby brother Wren curled around her neck in dragon form. She looked impeccable as always in a regal dress of pale pink, a color she said went best with her green skin. Her hair fell in shining green waves like a young girl, and though she was now forty she was still a beautiful woman.

Wren wriggled and squirmed at the sight of them, making his mother wince. "Ouch, Wrenny," she said. "Be still, you're scratching Maman with your claws." She gave up and set the dragonling down, then beamed at Weysh. "Weysh! It's a delight to see you, my dear. Come, I'm having the girls set the table again." She kissed both his cheeks.