Page 41 of Dance with the Dragon Duke

“I came to warn you that Father is still caught up,” Frances said, her tone friendly. “His business is taking longer than he expected. I thought I might come and offer you some secondary entertainment while you waited. But now I can see you’re perfectly capable of amusing yourselves.”

Tomorrow’s laugh was high and unnatural. She clamped her lips together to make it stop, certain that spending more time alone with Dark wouldn’t end well. “Um, actually, my lady—Frances—I’d love some secondary entertainment.”

“Wonderful,” Frances said. “Would you like a tour? We can start there and see where that gets us.”

“I’d love one.” Tomorrow made her way over to her, stepping carefully, trying not to make a fool of herself again.

“You go on ahead,” Dark said, finding a comfortable armchair to sit in beside a box of cigars. His concession surprised her. He was usually so reluctant to leave her side.

“It was my understanding,” Tomorrow said to the lady, “that you and your family lived in Whiteholm outside of River Row. Isn’t that far from here?”

“Not so far,” Frances told her, guiding her into the corridor. “But when my husband has work in the city, we stay with Father to be close to him.”

“That sounds lovely,” Tomorrow said, surprised that she was already beginning to feel less distressed in the noblewoman’s presence. Frances dressed like a refined person, and her coiffure was primped and perfect, but there was something about her that made her unexpectedly approachable. Tomorrow couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

And then something scaled and red swept into the corridor. Ducking, Tomorrow squawked in surprise and covered her head.

“Iso, dear, be more careful,” the lady scolded her familiar. “I apologize for her. She’s accustomed to having the run of the house.”

The little red dragon alighted on her mistress’s shoulder like a great bird.

Tomorrow’s heart was still racing, but she laughed it off. “Oh, it’s all right.”

Well, that explained why Tomorrow felt so comfortable. Lady Frances was a witch. Most witches were viewed as outcasts in society, the bargain of their piece of soul too taboo and misunderstood to make them mainstream. As a bastard, Tomorrow had always felt like a similar outcast. Understood by few and wanted by fewer.

“If I may be so bold,” Tomorrow said, lowering her voice, “I’ve always felt a certain kinship to witches, and I’m curious—”

“It didn’t hurt much when I gave Iso a piece of my soul,” Frances said with a knowing grin. “The piece formed right in my hand from one of my tears when I wanted it, and it looked like a crystalized drop of water. Iso surprised me by swallowing it whole as we made our bargain.”

Tomorrow guffawed. “You must get asked that a lot.”

Frances stroked her familiar’s red neck. “More than you’d think.” They stopped at a sitting room adorned with an impressive standing clock. “Now ifImay be so bold,” the lady said as Tomorrow took in the clock, admiring the intricate workings visible through a glass face, “you seemed a bit eager to escape the library. And your escort. Is the bond going well for you?”

Tomorrow flushed. If she was that obvious, then perhaps she owed Dark an apology. “It’s, well, it’s complicated. But please know His Grace has done absolutely nothing untoward.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. It’s just, I have some experience with a complicated bonding,” Frances said as her dragon nuzzled under her chin. “I myself was reluctant to put my heart on the line again after it’d been wounded by another.” Her next breath was wistful. “And now I couldn’t be happier. I’m glad I opened myself to the opportunity, if you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Tomorrow said, and her face fell. “Unfortunately, in my case it’s not my heart I’m worried about wounding. It’s his.”

Chapter 10

Dark

Dark made it through half a cigar before the earl joined him in the library. A gentleman many centuries old, he had the markings of Lunar heritage: short, twisted horns and a tail like a lion. He wore his golden hair pulled back in a neat queue.

“I hope you don’t mind if I turn down the gaslights,” the earl said, pausing near the sconce beside the door, working the knob below the glass fixture. “Nocturnal eyes don’t do well in overly-lit spaces.”

“By all means.” Dark stood to shake the earl’s extended hand.

“Your Grace,” the earl greeted politely, clasping Dark’s arm at the wrist. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“I am grateful for your hospitality, Lord Aaberg.”

“Do call me Bjorn,” he said with a swift smile, taking a cigar from the box at the side table before sitting in the armchair across from the duke. “When I enjoy cigars with a man, I prefer to do it without all the formalities.”

“Agreed.” Dark glanced at the archway that led out into the hall for signs that the women had returned. “Tomorrow will be back shortly, I’m sure. She’s taking a tour with Lady Moen.”

“Excellent. Gives us time to gossip.” The earl’s tail flipped playfully at that, the furry end brushing across the wool of histrousers. He used a silver, rectangular cutter to clip the end of his cigar. Bjorn patted his pockets in search of a lighter.

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