Page 9 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
My smile feels brittle when I carefully reply, “I am as well as can be expected.”
Mama’s expression sours immediately. “You must think I am being unfair to you.”
“No—” I try to protest, but she continues, speaking right over me.
“But I only have your best interest at heart. I havealwayshad your best interest at heart.” She fusses with my hair, ensuringeach golden strand is neatly pinned in place, as she continues on a softer note, as if afraid someone might overhear us: “We have endured this nonsense with the dragon king long enough. You are thirty years old and still unwed. Who will take care of you when we’re gone if not Lord Reginald?”
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek before delicately suggesting, “Can I not simply take care of myself?” When Mama’s gaze sharpens on my reflection, I hastily explain, “I could easily live off the monthly allowance Bene sends.”
I know I’ve already lost the argument when she twitches away from me, as if my words have scalded her, but I continue anyway. “Or I could obtain some work as a governess.”
“No,” Mama whispers, a finality to her tone. “I willneverallow any daughter of mine to live like… like amistress, supported by some distant king rather than a proper husband.”
She speaks as if our family has not already been living like that for years, ever since the day Bene’s father died.
Since the day I became unwanted.
I jolt to my feet, my cheeks ablaze. “You act as if I delight in the allowance Bene sends us every month, as if I haven’t told him time and time again—year after year—that his generosity isn’t necessary. That he owes usnothing.”
She stares at me, aghast. It is unlike me to lose my temper. I must remain calm at all times. I must remain in control of my emotions.
I draw in a deep breath and force myself to add, on a softer note, “And as I said, Mama, I could obtain some work as a governess.”
“No,” she says again, already making for the door, as if it has all been decided, then. As if I have no say in my future. “Our fortunes have improved too much for you to have toworkfor a living now. You will marry Lord Reginald, and that is that.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Our fortunes?” I repeat, stopping her in her tracks. She shoots me a warning glance over her shoulder.
But it is a warning I do not heed.
“And tell me, Mama, on whose wealth was that fortune built?”
She closes the distance between us again, trying to shush me. “Hush now. What has gotten into you?” She glances toward the open door and hisses, “Do you want Nurse Frances to hear you? Yourfatherto hear you?”
“Perhaps he should hear me,” I snap. “Perhaps he should finally know who truly pays for the roof over our heads. The silk on our backs.” My throat tightens over my next words, leaving me fighting to choke out, “All the doctors. The medicine. The specialists.”
Open shame writes itself over her features—the shame of a woman forced to face her own hypocrisy. I’m right.
And she knows it.
But rather than admit to it, she merely sniffs and swipes her fingers beneath her eyes, scrubbing away her tears before they ever properly materialize.
“Enough,” she whispers. “We will not speak of… my surpriseinheritanceany longer. I do not wish to fight with you, my love. Not tonight. You are being short with me because your nerves are already frayed…”
She trails off as her gaze suddenly lowers to my chest, to the antique gold chain that dips beneath the neckline of my gown. Her lips press into a thin line.
“Aurelia, we have already spoken about this.”
I flinch away. “You know I must wear it, Mama—” I begin to say, but she is already shaking her head, refusing to listen.
“No.” Her hand shoots toward me and takes hold of the chain, wrenching free the pendant I have worn every day of my life for the past twelve years.
To my eyes, it is the prettiest piece of jewelry I own: one of Bene’s own pearlescent scales, set in gold and wrapped with silver threads of Mind magic that only I can see.
To Mama’s eyes, it is simply one more reminder that I am something strange.
And that we owe our new, comfortable life to a dragon.
“Not tonight,” she begs, unclasping it from my throat before I can stop her. “It clashes with your gown. And it is an insult to Lord Reginald.”
