48. Alfie

Having a massive dragon inside me was difficult to get used to, especially since it hadn't been there before. Well, it had been there but I hadn't been able to feel it. Now it was there and it had opinions.

My dragon was feeling very protective and it liked having our clan so close to us and it liked walking out to the border to see the protections that everyone was putting in place. Glimmer showed me around and promised to teach me how to lay some spells soon. He said putting protections down would help to soothe my instincts to keep my clan safe.

Inside me, my dragon grouched.

I knew why, too. But it wasn't my fault that Rhod and Glenwise were still missing.

Blaze had asked me not to leave the territory and Glimmer had forbidden it. I hadn't wanted to upset anyone, so I'd stayed, but my dragon and I were getting less and less happy about it the longer my clan stayed out there unprotected.

I paced the grand hall, trying to convince myself not to shift and follow my bonds with Rhod and Glenwise until I found them. They could be hundreds of miles away and – annoyingly – Glimmer was right about me not knowing enough to be able to protect myself properly yet. How could I expect to protect my two missing clan if I couldn't even protect myself?

I glared up at the portrait hanging at the end of the hall. Father's eyes glared back at me. Even in the portrait, he looked so cold and austere. That was exactly the same look I'd frightened myself with when I'd looked so proud and haughty in my mirror. I guess I'd been modelling myself on it.

I stopped my pacing. That portrait had no place here now. I marched over to the large portrait and grabbed the frame.

Heaving, I lifted it off the wall. The whole thing wobbled. It was massive and unwieldy, and I staggered backwards, the frame towering over my head and falling slowly, inevitably.

I tried to grab it but my hands were full and all that happened was it dropped suddenly on one side as I let go.

The crash resounded throughout the grand hall and seemed to echo forever, rebounding off the marble. Oh bother, I hoped I hadn't chipped the marble floors.

Just as I was trying to wriggle out from underneath the heavy frame, the doors flew open and people rushed in. I recognised the feet of Kingsley and Matilda.

"I didn't mean to break it," I said, and cringed at how childish that sounded. I sometimes felt so strong and in control but, I had to admit, that was mostly when Blaze was with me. He'd been busy with Aunt Isabella and he'd radiated enjoyment and contentment at the way she fussed over him, so I hadn't had the heart to ask him to spend the time with me.

It just meant that, without him, somehow I reverted to being… me. I got things wrong.

Kingsley grabbed one end of the frame and said to Matilda, "Grab the other end."

They lifted it and I crawled free and stood, brushing myself off and wondering if I could look dignified again any time soon.

I was so used to everyone fussing over me, petting me and treating me like I was breakable that I actually stood there for thirty seconds, waiting.

Nothing happened.

Matilda and Kingsley lowered the frame to the ground with a soft bump and Matilda said, "I don't think the portrait is damaged. The frame might be a bit chipped. Do you want us to turn it over and check?"

On the basis it was face-down, and I didn't want to see my father's cold eyes again, I shook my head. "No, leave it for now."

And then I waited again, feeling strange.

Kingsley stood back and eyed me. His gaze was analytical and appraising as it scanned down my form, checking for injury.

"You hurt?" he asked at last.

"Only my pride," I confessed.

He shrugged. "Glimmer won't bitch at me so much for letting your pride get injured as he would if I'd let anything else bruise."

I snorted out a laugh. He sounded so calm and practical. He didn't seem mad at me at all for dropping that portrait and he wasn't looking at me with pity, either. I turned to Matilda. She wasn't even looking at me; she was studying the back of the portrait.

When she felt my eyes on her, she looked up.

"Oh, sorry. Are you okay? I thought you would be."

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You know, we would have helped."

"Helped?" I asked, as though the concept was totally foreign.

"Yes, to take the last Lord Somerville's portrait down. Have you decided what you want your portrait to look like."

"My portrait?"

Was it my imagination or was I echoing a lot of things today?

Matilda gave me a quizzical look.

"Your portrait to hang there," she said, and pointed at the empty space on the wall. "Lord Somerville's portrait always hangs there."

"Oh, um, yes. That was why I took it down. I'm getting the space ready for me."

Matilda nodded as though she believed me but Kingsley looked wryly amused. He was going to be annoyingly perceptive, wasn't he?

"Would you like us to take the picture out of the frame, ready for storage?"

"Yes, would you? That would be great."

That way, I wouldn't need to look into those chilling eyes ever again.

With Kingsley and Matilda doing that, I hurried out of the grand hall and made my way up to Aunt Silvia's studio. When I knocked, she called me inside and was engulfed in that smell of dry paint that always lingered there.

"What can I do for you, Alfie?"

"Well, um, I was wondering…"

Damn, I wished I'd thought this through properly. Then I could have brought Blaze with me. I didn't stutter and hesitate so much when he was tucked against my side.

Instead, I focused on my bonds. There was the brightest bond of all, the one I shared with my mate, and it glowed with fire and happiness and the feeling of safety. My dragon swelled inside me with pride that we'd given Blaze a clan he felt so safe with.

And there was my bond with Aunt Silvia, too. It still shimmered with protective instinct, which gave it a particular sheen, but that instinct ran both ways now. It had also faded. It wasn't that it was weaker, as such, it was just that it wasn't so much in the foreground. Our bond had softened.

I realised then how tense and wary Aunt Silvia and my mother had always been. They'd been bracing themselves for years, expecting something awful to happen and desperately hoping they'd somehow be able to stop it, despite having been powerless to stop it happening to Alexander.

Aunt Silvia put down her brush and wiped her hands down her apron.

"Yes, Alfie?"

"I was wondering if you'd paint my portrait to hang in the grand hall."

The words blurted out of me and Aunt Silvia looked stunned.

"You- you want me to paint it?"

"You're an excellent painter," I pointed out. "I'd be honoured to have you paint it."

She swallowed, "That's- that's wonderful. I'd love to, Alfie."

"I'm going to have my portrait done with Blaze, too. I want us both to be in it, together. I'm not having my portrait hanging up there without him."

Silvia nodded as though she hadn't considered anything different.

"He's your mate. It's his right to be there beside you."

"Really? Mother wasn't in the last one."

Silvia's mouth became a thin line of disapproval but the old instinct never to criticise my father still lingered.

"The last Lord Somerville did not wish it, and Regina did not want to exercise her right."

"But it's okay if Blaze is in mine?"

"Of course. You'll look magnificent, the two of you together. Shall I draw some concept sketches to give you some ideas?"

"Yes please," I said, and began to back out of the door. It hadn't really occurred to me that I'd need to make any decisions about that, other than choosing who I wanted to paint my portrait in the first place. Having chosen Aunt Silvia – the obvious choice – I'd pretty much thought she'd do what she wanted and I'd be delighted with the result.

Even if I didn't really like it that much, the point was that she'd painted it for me and I'd love it because it showed me how much she cared.

If I was going to have to make decisions about composition, I'd need Blaze with me.