Chapter Three

ARCHER

Once everyone was seated, Abimelech Mortimer entered the room. I was watching the other dragons rather than him and noted how many of the looks he was attracting were filled with mistrust and dislike as he walked to his place. The only dragon present who didn't look at him was the hulking dragon sitting at the Fortescue place. He kept his eyes firmly on the table before him. Interesting.

Mortimer informed us that he'd stationed guards at every approach to the room, meaning we could speak freely. He then confounded my expectations—instead of dominating proceedings, he made the briefest of introductions to Evelyn Berstow and invited her to speak.

She told us how her family had kept themselves cloistered from the rest of the dragon world, first for safety and latterly through habit. Feeling winded, I sank back in my chair when she finished, and a buzz of conversation broke out. Deep disappointment filled me that it wasn't a family split, yet the actual tale was almost inconceivable. A whole family of dragons that none of us had known about. Could there be more hidden away? More importantly, why had the Berstows chosen now to come out of hiding? What did they want from us?

"Do you think there are other dragon families in hiding?" Paul Vane raised his voice above the hum of conversation, addressing Evelyn.

She tilted her head to one side and regarded him consideringly. "I can't say for certain, but I doubt it. I believe my family would know if that were the case. You see, my family's treasure is history and knowledge. Of dragonkind."

Dragon voices rose in a hubbub, underpinned by vibrating bass indicating how upset they were. Dragon history had been lost, we'd thought irrevocably. Our ignorance about our past had always irked me, and now I knew the reason for it.

"Is that—" My words were lost in the noise in the room. I banged my fist on the table and raised my voice. "Does the fact you've been hoarding our history explain why the rest of us know so little?"

Silence fell, and everyone looked towards her, awaiting an answer.

Her eyebrows rose as she regarded me appraisingly through cool eyes. "We haven't been sneaking around other families to steal their precious papers, if that's what you're implying."

Despite her calm, there was a sibilance to her words, perhaps her dragon hissing at my near-accusation that she was a thief. Possibly the worst thing one dragon could call another. Yet if we'd had access to records, my family might not be split the way it was now. These dragons had been sitting on information that could have prevented heartbreak.

"I admit I was shocked to learn how little dragon history is generally known amongst you." She looked around the table, broadening her answer to include everyone. "I suspect the threat of discovery kept any dragon records that were openly written secreted away, and whatever papers my family didn't rescue were ultimately destroyed for reasons of safety. But there would have been no need to destroy disguised writings, if their existence was even remembered. And after centuries, we once again have a way to read them."

What the hell was she talking about? And why did Abimelech Mortimer look so damn smug? I didn't like this—it felt like a set-up.

"What are you saying?" There was anger in the Scottish voice that asked the question.

"In their dragon form, red dragons can read writing that remains hidden to the rest of us and to humans."

"Red dragons are extinct," the Scottish dragon said. He hesitated as a few other dragons around the table smirked. "Aren't they?"

"They're rare, certainly," Abimelech said. "But they still exist. One of my grandsons is red."

There was uproar. I sat still, my fingers clenched tightly around my pen. Red dragons still existed? That was almost as astonishing as the discovery of a new dragon family. If it was true that red dragons had this secret ability, it felt inevitable that Mortimer would have one in his family. He already had all the power, yet it was never enough for him. What was he trying to do here? I really didn't like this.

Mortimer rose to his feet, and the room slowly quietened. Whatever we thought of him, there was no doubting his dominance. At times I hated it, and at times I was glad of it. If the truth that dragons existed ever came out, at least we'd have a weighty defender. No one could drag Abimelech Mortimer off to a secret detainment camp without the entire world noticing and asking questions.

"Now you know the reason I have invited you all here. Not only to welcome the Berstows"—an ironic smile appeared briefly, because we hadn't exactly welcomed the new dragons—"but to share with you the knowledge they have. Evelyn, if you'd like to continue."

Of course they were on first-name terms. Abimelech wouldn't have introduced her without making sure she was under his thumb. Yet as Evelyn Berstow looked around the room at us, her gaze sharp and assessing, I had the impression she wasn't his minion.

"Despite the fact it is our treasure, any one of you is welcome to come and study the documents in our possession. Our collection is deep in places but not particularly broad. If you're looking for a comprehensive history, you'll be disappointed. But we have more information than it appears you are currently privy to." She glanced briefly at Lily Mansfield. "We have a six-hundred-page document containing detailed genealogy of the Leeds' Mansfields, dating back to the fourteenth century, that may be of interest to your family."

"We have to travel to your territory to study these documents? Can you not see the distances that are involved for some of us?" It was a dragon from the Outer Hebrides, perhaps the furthest flung part of the British Isles.

"I'm aware of that, and we are in the process of digitising our records. But as you will appreciate, storage of those electronic files must be completely secure, and many of the documents are extremely fragile due to their age."

Which invited the question why they hadn't been digitised and their content preserved earlier. But I'd probably upset her enough for one day, so I said nothing. I didn't want to be barred from reading our history. Perhaps there would be hints about the construction of Avebury and Stonehenge.

"Rufus Mortimer is currently working on an overarching history and will distribute copies to all families."

"Rufus Mortimer ?"

My outraged words were lost under a Welsh dragon's roar. "A Mortimer? Why should we trust a Mortimer to produce a neutral history?" He was on his feet, fists clenched on the table before him, his glare moving between Abimelech and Evelyn.

Abimelech's eyes were like ice as he stared at the Welsh dragon, whose pugnacity oozed away under that terrifying gaze.

"I would ask the same question of any family," the dragon added weakly, and sat down again.

Mortimer inclined his head. "That attitude reflects my other reason for calling this moot. To answer your question, my grandson is a scholar at heart and would undoubtedly tear off his own wings rather than knowingly misrepresent our history. As I trust Evelyn to give Rufus access to every paper in her possession, so I trust the quality of his work. If my trust is found to have been misplaced, then we are in a different situation."

I sat very still. Menace had cracked unmistakably through his voice.

"Now that you have all been introduced to Evelyn, we come to my second reason for calling this meeting." Uncharacteristically, Abimelech paused, taking a sip of water from his glass. What could be more difficult than telling us about an entire new dragon family?

"You will be aware that this is our first gathering in three centuries. As families, we tend to form loose alliances with two or three other families and keep apart from all others. It has reduced bloodshed, with each of our families staying in our own territory. The downside has been that mistrust has grown into resentment and thence to hostility." His eyes flicked briefly to the Fortescue dragon, who was still concentrating on the table.

"I've discussed with some of you how suited our arrangement is to the twenty-first century. Margaret Teague has some views on this and, I believe, a proposition to offer."

Margaret took a moment to finish the mint she'd just popped into her mouth before speaking, seemingly unconcerned about all the eyes fixed on her.

"The origins of my idea came from some of our younger dragons," she started, ignoring the disapproving protest from an old dragon. "The way we guard our territory, allowing other dragons in only occasionally for arranged visits, makes it difficult to build trust, let alone meet potential romantic partners or friends. I'm not suggesting we loosen our grip on our territory or cease to defend it fiercely, but I wonder if we could be more open. Instead of those bloody awful group visits we have to suffer through, why shouldn't we make individual visits to one another's territory, with a text beforehand to request permission?"

The advent of the Berstows had caused uproar, but this suggestion seemed like the end of the world. Having never met other dragons en masse before, I'd had no idea how quarrelsome and stiff-necked we were as a species. It explained Tim's attitude to me, I supposed.

Mortimer allowed time for dragons to bellow their displeasure before tapping his water glass with a metal pen. The insistent ringing silenced everyone. "Margaret?" he invited.

"I'm not suggesting every request should be granted. I am suggesting they should be considered." Margaret paused. "Mingling too freely with other dragons leads to bloodshed, as we all know even without Evelyn's historical documents. Yet living in silos, the way we are now, leads to mistrust and misinterpretation of others' motives. Which, in turn, leads to bloodshed."

She drew a deep breath. Until now, she'd appeared relaxed, but sitting next to her, I could see a slight quiver in her fingers. "I have a suggestion, which I would like you to take away and think about rather than responding now. When we leave this hotel, I propose that each family takes one representative from another family back with them for a few months. From a family they currently have no ties with. Start mixing, and let's break down the mistrust between us and open up the world for future generations."

Dead silence followed. Abimelech rose to his feet. "We will reconvene at two pm to discuss."

He was right to bring this to a halt. Everyone sitting around the table looked pole-axed. I concentrated on my breathing to control my dragon, roaring deep inside me. Instinct said no. Instinct said fuck, no. No strange dragon on my territory.

But the hardest lesson I'd had to learn since becoming head of the family was that I couldn't always give in to instinct. We had to mix with humans, to pretend we were no different from them, and find a way to get along with other dragons. Because we did need options. If Mia wanted to find a romantic partner, we had to have other families for her to choose from. Although too young to be looking for a serious commitment yet, she was clearly unimpressed by the possibilities among our current family contacts, the Vanes and the Smythes.

I emerged from my thoughts to find the room had emptied. Except for Margaret, who was putting the notepad and pen from her place setting into her handbag.

"There have to be some perks to suffering through all those narrow-minded old gits boring on," she said, catching my gaze on her. "Well, that went better than I thought. I half expected to be dragged outside and flamed."

I managed to smile at her. Whatever I thought of her suggestion, she was evidently influential. If our family split, it would be helpful to have an ally who might not condemn my headship completely.

"It's an interesting proposal," I said. "I'll give it some thought."

"Talk to my nephew Alex about it if you want," she said. "The original suggestion came from him, but honestly, so many others of his generation— your generation—think the same. They don't have the same respect for tradition that was drilled into my generation, and I actually think that's a good thing overall. But I worry that, when they come to power, they may plunge ahead with free mixing without any safeguards. If we can compromise now, we may avert future bloodshed."

That cast a different light on her suggestion. We were accountable not only for our families now but for generations to come. The responsibility had been a heavy weight on my shoulders for so many years that I scarcely felt it anymore, but faced with a decision of this magnitude, it was back. If I were to overturn the way we'd lived for centuries, I could imagine the response from certain members of my family. They would claim I was inconsiderate, stubborn, and autocratic. All of which were probably true, but it would make a formal split more likely.

A split would prove that I was incapable of the two duties of a head of family, to lead and to protect. I would have failed in the only thing that mattered.