After Hours

Timur’s everything ached. But it was the good kind of heaviness that came from an intense day of maneuvers. How long had it been since he’d put in this much effort? Mum had needed a break from the usual rigors while carrying the twins. Honestly, Timur hadn’t trained this hard since Gregor. Having a baby changed things. Would having a bondmate change things again?

But that reminded him. He needed to see if Fend liked his idea.

Giving his damp hair a final roughing up, he pulled on a clean hoodie and trekked upstairs. Easing past Sinder’s new wards—the dragon had felt better once they were in place—Timur walked into his room. Or tried to. Coils of pearlescent dragon scales barred the way, stranding him on the threshold. “Budge over?”

Sinder scrunched, and Timur wedged himself far enough into the room to close the door.

He worked his way around until he could meet Sinder’s gaze. The dragon looked vaguely sheepish, probably because he was cradling a purring Fend to his chest. The panther sprawled on his back, paws kneading the air while Sinder petted him.

“I’m not sure who’s spoiling whom,” Timur remarked. “Is Gregor somewhere in this tangle?”

Sinder produced the boy by lifting his tail, which was looped under Gregor’s arms. The toddler dangled cheerfully and waved with both hands.

“There’s Papka’s little battler!”

With casual dexterity, Sinder ferried the boy to Fend, who captured him with all four paws and dabbed his tongue against one round cheek. Gregor chortled and clung, then peered around. He gabbled a string of syllables, and with an answering tootle-peep, his wind dragon unspooled from the nest Sinder must have made, given the abundance of yellow cloth.

She draped herself around Timur’s shoulders. Then Fend reached out, and a velveted paw hooked around Timur’s thigh, pulling.

“Am I wanted, then?”

The end of Sinder’s tail wrapped Timur’s ankle, twining up his calf. Thanks to their nascent bond, his hopes were easy enough to guess at.

“Did you want tending?”

Sinder’s hand formed a swift negative, then gestured gracefully between them.

Catching on, Timur smiled crookedly. “Right. You want to tend me …? I’d like that. Will you remain in truest form? I must confess, I love the feel of dragon scales.”

His bondmate blinked.

Fend shifted in order to relay, “You’ve flustered him. We should flatter him more.”

“Is it really flattery if everything we say is true?”

Settling Gregor on one arm, Fend pressed his free hand to Timur’s chest. “He likes your hands on him. You like the feel of dragon scales. And I am so easy to please, if only you would try.”

“You’re hardly neglected. I saw the state Sinder had you in.”

“Hardly neglected … but hardly satisfied.” And going up on tiptoe to steal a kiss, Fend whispered, “More, ma moitié. Be lavish with us both.”

Fend did kiss him sometimes. Not often, and not at any great length. Timur had always written it off as feline impulse, proof of an affection he didn’t always want to put into words. Was he worried about his part in their little family’s new balance?

Timur hauled Fend to his side in a one-armed hug. “Did you want tending, then?”

“Always. And only from you.”

“I’m at low ebb or I’d offer to brush you.” Meeting Sinder’s gaze, he said, “You have to be as bone-weary as I am. I should be warming oil and looking after any aches caused by carrying me aloft.”

Sinder shifted, protesting, “Dunce and double dunce, there’s such a thing as being too generous. Fend, help me get him into bed.”

Timur wasn’t that bad off, but he humored them. Sinder unseated the little wind dragon, and Fend rearranged pillows. It really did feel good to stretch out and go limp.

“You tend, I’ll knead,” said Fend.

“What about Gregor?” asked Sinder.

“Wants his papka. We’ll see them both to sleep.” Fend plunked their boy onto the mattress.

Timur rolled onto his side to pull his son close. Right away, he noticed something new. Really, it was a wonder he’d needed this long. He was a ward, for pity’s sake. “Someone has a new bracelet.”

Gregor lifted his arm, proudly announcing, “Lellow.”

“Did Papka’s dragon share a stone?” He arched his brows at Sinder. “It’s a fine one.”

“Lellow,” Gregor repeated, poking at the line of seashells that further decorated the strand.

“Yes. Yellow. A sign of favor, since it’s our dragon’s favorite color.”

Sinder fidgeted. “I thought I should get around to those safety protocols. I know Kyrie already has him decorated with stealth sigils, but I wanted a share. You … don’t mind?”

“Your plans for our boy are good.” Which reminded him. But before he could frame his idea, a plaintive humming came from under the pillows.

“You’ll have yours, but only after you figure out how to share a pillow instead of prop one.”

Their rock imp.

Sinder rattled on. “Gregor will probably love being a big brother. Assuming we get to keep you. Which I hope is an option. Because I’m going to want to keep you. I swear, instincts are scary as hell.”

Fend lightly inquired, “Pretending to be greedy again?”

“I’m a dragon. It’s part of my birthright.”

Timur thought Sinder’s greed could be easily mistaken for generosity.

“And your rock-child already believes that your lullabies are their birthright.” Fend leaned into Timur and took on a tattling tone. “He’s making certain that little one knows the sound of his voice.”

Timur could remember wanting that for Gregor.

Sinder eyed him worriedly. “So? I mean … singing to a rock makes more sense than hugging a rock. Doesn’t it?” And in a bid for support, he added, “Fend cuddles the impling when you’re not looking.”

He yawned and smiled and closed his eyes. “I’m in favor of both lullabies and cuddling.”

“Speaking of birthrights,” said Fend. “Where’s mine, hmm? Stingy dragon.”

“I’m working on it, okay? It’s harder than I expected.”

Timur asked, “Now, Fend. Are you making things difficult for my bondmate?”

“How was I to know he’d wallow in indecision.”

“Hey, I tried. I keep trying. You’ve rejected everything I proposed.”

“Dare I ask … what’s the nature of these propositions?”

“Don’t make it sound weird,” begged Sinder. “He wants a name. It’s traditional for Kith who show themselves to be Kith-kin to earn a new name. Usually something with more than four letters.”

“What have you suggested so far?”

Fend immediately jumped in. “Nothing worth repeating, I assure you.”

Timur was pleasantly surprised that Fend wanted a bond. “A new name is a big deal. A big responsibility.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s an honor. I get that.” Sinder stole into bed, trapping Gregor between them, borrowing a corner of Timur’s pillow in the process. “But how am I supposed to find something that fits? You may not have noticed, but he’s kind of a lot.”

“Well said, lovely one.” Fend, who’d crowded in behind Timur, leaned past in order to press a kiss on Sinder.

Stuck in the middle, Timur felt Sinder go still, then stretch up to kiss Fend back. The dragon suddenly pulled back, flashing Timur a guilty look.

“All right there?” And Timur played at cosset, letting loose a bit of shine.

Fend sighed endearments and licked Timur’s ear, lapsing into encouraging purrs.

Sinder’s shoulders hunched. “I’m supposed to be tending you.”

“Is good, yes?” Timur let his mother’s accent slip in, trying to lighten the mood. “I know how to look after the ones I love.”

“But we agreed. We’ve made an alliance. This isn’t a love match.” In a smaller voice, he added, “Juuyu said so.”

Timur hadn’t realized that the phoenix’s assessment had been bothering him. “Juuyu wasn’t slighting you. Or us. I’ll say it again, Sinder. You’re good and right and best for me.”

But was that the same as being enough?

“Right. We need this sorted.” Timur tried to catch the dragon’s eye. “Our bond’s a big deal, too. And a big responsibility. And an honor.”

“I want you for myself.” Sinder grimaced and admitted, “But I want Fend, too.”

“Dragons do accumulate brides.”

Sinder snorted, then sighed. “I’m more comfortable with unassailable alliance, thanks. But here’s the thing. I think I want … yeah, I’m sure I do. Look, maybe it’s just me being a greedy dragon, but I want you to love me. You don’t have to fall in love, but I want to … to matter. What can I do about that? What can I do to … to matter more? Because Fend’s suggestions aren’t very helpful.”

When he rambled to an awkward stop, Timur had to laugh. “I can imagine the sorts of things our cat might propose.”

“Mmm,” offered Fend, sneaking in another lick at Timur’s ear. “He wants more. Let’s be generous.”

“Stop teasing him.”

“Never,” Fend vowed. “Now answer his silly question. Ideally with a kiss.”

Sinder grumbled, “That’s not what Timur wants. That’s you. I can tell that much.”

“But you’re overcomplicating things. Here. I’ll go first,” Fend said with exaggerated patience. “I want my ears petted. By either of you. By both of you. But only the two of you, since it is an entirely personal matter. Intimate, even. But I would welcome such a thing in private moments.”

“Your ears, huh?” Sinder beckoned.

Fend hooked his chin over Timur’s shoulder so the dragon could reach. Much purring ensued.

Timur guessed he should do as he was told and answer Sinder’s question, which wasn’t silly at all. “You matter, Sinder. You don’t have to do anything to matter more.”

“But do you think you’ll ever love me?” Sinder pressed. “Eventually?”

He couldn’t understand his dragon’s doubt. Timur loved this, and he loved being with both of them. This closeness. The only thing lacking was … well. You couldn’t have everything.

Sinder propped himself up on an elbow, gaze suddenly keen. “What was that? That thing just now? The awful pang.”

“I know, right?” sighed Fend. “Doesn’t it make you want to kiss it away? I wasn’t enough to mend that rift. Help me make it better?”

“But what is it?”

Timur couldn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Fend slipped into a deadly dangerous tone. “They broke him, and then they stole what matters most. You will help me give it all back.”

Sinder glanced down at Gregor, who’d fallen asleep. “Is this about the kids?”

“You see the necessity,” Fend challenged.

“Yeah, of course. There are strings I can pull. Names I can drop. Forms to fill out. But … sure. I can make it happen.”

“Invitations by Dichotomy Day?”

“I can probably manage. Hardest part will be getting together enough heralds. They’re booked solid this time of year. Christmas at the latest?”

Timur was glad Fend had found someone whose mind made similarly agile leaps, but he was feeling especially dull-witted. “What are you on about?”

“The kids. Your children.” Sinder quietly stated, “You want to know them. You want to matter to them. So we’ll use the system that used you, and we’ll bring them here. What reaver parent would refuse an offer from an exclusive school run by the very dynasty they wanted a piece of?”

“We invite them. We enroll them here.” Fend nuzzled Timur’s ear and whispered, “They will know their papka.”

“I thought maybe someday … summer courses at Wardenclave …?”

“Why settle for summers when you can oversee all their training?” posed Fend.

“Guess I can let them paw at me if they need practice. And we’re flush with dragon crossers at the moment.”

Which reminded Timur. “Firstly, yes. If you can figure out how to bring them here, even some of them …? I want that. But also. Fend, listen. I had an idea. Tell me if it’s good?”

“As good as mine? Doubtful. But I’ll hear you out.”

“I want something for Gregor.” He tried to pull his reasoning into some semblance of order. “I was, hmm, twelve I think …? That’s when Argent and Tsumiko came home with Kyrie. He was tiny and beautiful, and he helped me decide about becoming a Spomenka. Kyrie’s a big part of the reason I learned to love dragons, and I’m still learning from him.”

Sinder and Fend traded a look, but they held their peace, giving Timur time to explain.

“You probably already know. About how Mum took him and nursed him, since he and Lilya were born the same day. Lilya’s always had Kyrie, and Kyrie’s always had Lilya. Do you think we could give that to Gregor?”

Fend inhaled sharply.

Sinder was tapping his fingers. “Twenty-five baby Spomenka … and if relative age is important … we might just squeak by. A partnering program adds gloss to the invitation. Good thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking of it as a school thing.” Timur frowned. “I want Gregor to have someone he can’t imagine living without. A best friend. A training partner, sure. But more than that. Kin. Family.”

“Sure. There’s that, too. But with a little spin, we can get that kind of bond for all of Kyrie’s siblings.” Sinder hesitated, then asked, “Did you have one in mind? First dibs?”

“No. I usually leave the big decisions to Fend. And now you.”

“Okay. First off, Gregor does technically have someone. That little wind dragon is going to loom large in his future. She’s sentient and plenty opinionated. She’s part Impression, but in essence, he’s already got a lock on a Kith partner.”

Sinder paused long enough that Timur suspected he was conferring with Fend. With a nod, he went on.

“As far as the crossers go, I think you should talk to Jacques. Etienne’s close enough in age, and Anjou will go for it. Pairing off kits and cubs is common practice in feline households. Also Sonnet will totally step in and cover the mothering angle. Added bonus, your kid will probably end up fluent in French.”

“That would be brilliant. I’ll talk to Jacques first thing.”

Sinder raised a hand. “You have another option, too. If you want to keep your boy. It’s one of those big deal, big responsibility, big honor things. Both limiting and unlimited. Good for the dynasty, bad for travel.”

“You have the means?” demanded Fend.

“Naoki’s packing golden seeds, not that you heard it from me. If you applied to him, Gregor could become tree-kin. He’d share a tree sibling’s years.”

“While you share your dragon’s,” Fend added, sounding supremely smug.

Sinder nodded. “The best part is … you don’t have to pick and choose. All of these things stack. Gregor would be able to keep everyone that matters to him—best friend, tree twin, wind dragon, rock imp, and us.”

Timur let himself imagine such a future—schemed by his wily cat, arranged by his generous dragon, shared by his littlest battler—and dragged them all just a little bit closer before whispering, “Is good, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah,” mumbled Sinder, looking pleased.

“Is good?” countered Fend, sounding amused. “Don’t be shy, ma moitié. You love it and you love us and this lovely one wants to hear it said. Greedy thing.”

Sinder looked ready to retaliate, but Timur soothed, “I should have spoken sooner, Sinder. I think I was trying to spare your feelings, since … well, it sounds romantic, doesn’t it? But you are good and right and best. And loved.”

He didn’t mind saying so. It had been true for longer than he’d realized.

As true as the note that rang through their rock imp.

As real as the rumble of approval at his back.

As shy as the kiss Sinder stole. Or gave. But definitely meant.

So Timur accepted it in the spirit it was offered. And felt unassailable.