Page 16 of Wickedly Ever After
Once upon a time, dragons ate people. They were particularly fond of nobility, who seemed to taste better, no doubt because they ate a more varied diet. But now only the very elderly dragons sat around their caves, playing backgammon andtalking about the good old days when their great-grandparents could buy Knight-on-a-Stick at roadside stands after Princess Day. Perhaps this too should change with the times.
“That’s fair,” he said. “And thank you again.”
He watched Alistair flap away, so relieved he risked a smile for the first time since he’d been roasted. He’d not been looking forward to telling the Council an adolescent dragon got the better of him and his backside. It would lead to questions, like why he’d been foolish enough to laugh at a dragon. Then he’d need to tell them about Ida and her letters, and he didn’t want to even think about how that would go over. The press would have a field day.
“Tinbit,” he said when he walked back inside, “would you be so kind as to get my stationery and bring it to the bedroom? I think I’ll start on the quest map, the various pitfalls, traps, and so forth. Don’t let me forget I need to talk to the chief ogre on Wednesday about setting up an ambush for the knight attendants, and I still need to send a raven to the swamp to borrow a fire-toad from Crowbone. Or would you rather go?”
Tinbit grimaced. “No…no, I think I’ll stay here. We’re not talking now, you see. And besides all that, I’ve met someone else. It would be awkward.”
“Met someone else?” Already? He’d expected Tinbit to be out of sorts for months. But he didn’t say that aloud. Tinbit had always been touchy about his love life as long as Hector had known him. “Do I know him?”
“No.” Tinbit squirmed. “I haven’t exactly met him. We’re…we’ve been…corresponding.”
Hector blinked. “When did this start?”
More squirming. “After I broke up with Crowbone.” Hiseyes grew hard and bright. “And don’t you dare say anything. He dumped me—not the other way around!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hector said, smiling. “What’s his name?”
Any more twisting and writhing, and Tinbit would corkscrew into the floor. “Uh…Hari. I don’t know his surname—at least not his real one.”
Hector sighed. “Tinbit—are you using The Web?”
The gnome’s cheeks turned crimson. “So what if I am?”
“I hope to goodness you didn’t give them any personal information! Those dating websites are nothing but spider scams. And don’t you dare set up a meeting with this man unless it’s in a public place where everyone can see you. Anybody can put up a profile.”
“It’s not like that at all,” Tinbit said. “It’s the paid service. Verified users—he’s absolutely a flesh-and-blood person.”
Worse and worse. The way the spiders ran their threads through the warp and weft of the magical communication net, it was all too easy for “verified flesh and blood” to end up in an eat-cute. Hari was probably a hairy tarantula looking for a good meal of fresh gnome.
“I saw his profile and sent him a letter. He likes gardening, silk shirts, long romantic walks in the enchanted forest, and he can make spinach strawberry salad.”
“Who puts spinach strawberry salad in their dating profile?”
“Somebody interesting.” Tinbit turned almost purple. “Anyway, I said I’d meet him when I go with you to the capital city for the Council meeting next week. He works for a witch too, so he’ll be there for the Unicorn Jubilee. I’m meeting him for dinner at The Golden Dragon Hotel—he’s got a reservation.”
“Do I need to get another room?”
“Really, Hector? On a first date? A lot would need to happen between the appetizer and dessert.”
Hector’s face burned. He wouldn’t call himself prudish, but he’d always been shy where matters of the heart—and matters concentrated rather lower than the heart—were concerned. He’d been interested in girls, then boys, and finally, around the age of twenty-two, he’d concluded he liked dragons, giants, gnomes, ogres, vampires, shapeshifters, ghouls, demons, and even sea serpents, but he couldn’t go further than that if he didn’t become friends with any of them. Which shouldn’t have been a problem—Cardinal Witches weren’t supposed to fall in love. But he’d been a little too lonely at times…
He forced a smile. “Well, that’s fine. Do I get to meet him?” he asked.
“Of course. He was excited to find out I work for a witch too. I told him you liked gardening, and he said the witch he works for is an amazing gardener herself. She has this lovely herb bed. So I sent him my recipe for calendula cream, and he sent me the recipe for the carrot and ginger soup you liked so much.”
Hector considered. It had been first-rate soup. Maybe this one—this one might not be all bad? “He sounds nice.”
“He is. He’s sweet, he’s funny, and…and I like him.” Tinbit sounded slightly astonished. “This guy—I feel like I know him and I don’t even know what he looks like—he didn’t include a picture. But he could have warts all over his nose and a hump on his back, and I wouldn’t care. I like getting his letters, opening them, and knowing he’s thinking about me, wanting to share everything that’s happened in his life with me. I was surprised he wanted to meet so soon, but it’s only dinner.”
“I’m happy for you,” Hector said, but a horrible, miserable feeling congealed in the pit of his stomach. Tinbit might fall in love—he was prone to it. Lonely people were. And if there was one thing Hector understood about love, it was this: Love meant losing people.
***
For the remainder of the day, he buried himself in work, his sure remedy for anything that touched him too deeply or lingered like the taint of something rotten in his soul.
He would never stand in the way of Tinbit’s happily-ever-after. He’d been preparing himself for this eventuality when Tinbit met Crowbone and dissolved into a puddle of romantic goo. But Crowbone was a local. Gnomes could be so inflexible when it came to moving from their ancestral homes to other parts of the world. What if this new man wanted Tinbit to go with him? He’d be dealing with despondent, defeated, and depressed Tinbit again. With a sigh, Hector pulled out his stationery. He had so many letters to write this afternoon, to swamp gnomes, ogres, and yet…
