Page 158 of Finch

truth. Senile old Atticus claims this young man is my get, which I find bizarre, considering I was

never informed that my attempt at a clutch produced any kind of life at all.”

“Bollocks!” Finch seethed.

In an attempt to soothe him, Hugh wrapped Finch up a little tighter in his arms.

“I’m telling the truth, little bird,” the dragon said sadly. “You’ll find I’m not much of a liar. I have

no talent for it. You would be able to read my fib as plainly as words off the pages of a book. I

am, however, wondering how your existence was never brought to my attention, seeing as

how Atticus here was in the know.” He looked at the elderly dragon—Atticus—who was fending

off a starry-eyed Harrison with his cane. “Do you care to explain yourself, old man?”

“What?” Atticus poked Harrison in the chest a few times. “You think this is my doing? I was

only made aware when Willoughby brought it to my attention prior to the boy’s employment.

Willoughby researches every Attendant brought into the fold to ensure they’re from good stock,

you know. If you’d have come to visit earlier, I would have told you then, but no one comes to

visit the old coot, do they? Hmm, Calvin?”

“I’d be glad to visit you,” Harrison said brightly. “You could tell me all about ancient dragons.

Oh, and maybe your clutch! Clutches? I hope there’s more than one. I mean, you could

basically tell me anything and I’d love to hear it. I’m a good listener, I swear.”

The offer was met by another poke from Atticus’s cane. “You, boy, have all of the enthusiasm

of a whelp and none of its sense of self-preservation. Now, Calvin, stop dawdling. Make

whatever introductions or apologies are necessary, then go wait for me in my study. There are

far too many people here. Willoughby, Calvin and I will partake in tea in my study thirty minutes

from now. See to it Marie prepares some of those excellent cucumber sandwiches she’s so

fond of making. Add extra pepper to Calvin’s, and make sure his sandwiches are marked with

decorative toothpicks so we can tell the difference. Now, you”—Atticus turned his wizened

stare on Everard as Willoughby exited the room—“you may be a doctor, but you’re also trouble.

Out with you. You can come back in after Calvin has finished speaking with Finch. And you”—

he poked Harrison in the chest, prompting the omega-beta to smile—“I’m putting you in charge

of making sure that oaf of a doctor does what I’ve told him.”

“Okay. I can do that.” Harrison turned to face Everard. “Come on, Ev. We should wait in the

hall until Calvin and Finch are done talking. It’s only polite.”

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