Socially Orcward (Adventures in Aguillon #3) - Lisa Henry Page 0,2

wasn’t in charge of anything.

“I liked the part with the dragon,” Lady Cornelia said, her cheeks dimpling when she smiled. “It was very exciting.”

“I’m not usually killed,” Dave said, still unsure how to feel about it. The actor playing his top half had been knocked unconscious when the actor playing his lower half had stumbled into the wall, giving the rather dramatic effect that Dave had been suddenly bisected. Dave liked surprising plot twists, but at the same time it was hard not to take it a little personally. “Pie is always the hero though.”

From underneath Dave’s collar, Pie trilled proudly.

“Oh!” said Lady Cornelia, her eyes widening. She lowered her voice as though she was about to tell a secret, not ask a question. “Do you have the dragon with you now? Could we see it?”

“Him,” Dave corrected. He poked the tiny lump near his collarbone gently. “And nah. He only comes out if he wants to.”

Lady Cornelia looked disappointed, which Dave understood—Pie was the hero who had killed Lord Doom!—but Lord Hawkesbury smiled.

“Now, now, Lady Cornelia. I’m sure one can’t just make a dragon do anything.”

“I think Dave can,” Quinn said with a smile. “He’s very good with them.”

“Ah,” Dave said, feeling his face heating up and knowing he was blushing purple. “I jus’ like ’em.”

“How fascinating,” said Lord Hawkesbury. “Perhaps you’d like to join us at dinner and tell us more about them?”

“Nah,” Dave said, and scratched his nose. “I gotta go check the eggs.”

He waved goodbye, and then left the hall and headed for the tower.

The first time Dave had been in the tower, it had been to defeat the evil Lord Doom. The room at the top of the tower, the solarium, had been full of tapestries and couches, and had large windows to let the sunlight in, and a massive fireplace to keep it warm even in winter. Now the solarium was Dave’s dragon hatchery, and he kept the fire going even though the days were warm because the dragons enjoyed it and it was better for the eggs. The eggs, one a deep scarlet and one as black as onyx, glittered in the coals underneath the burning wood as Dave entered the tower room and checked them.

A rustle of straw and a disgruntled chirping from the box next to the fireplace told him that Bobo, his newest hatchling, was awake. Dave crouched down and carefully dug through the straw to find him. Or her. It was really difficult to tell at this age, but Dave was almost certain Bobo was a boy.

Bobo was an Eastern Green, considered a ‘common’ dragon—or as common as a dragon could be, which was to say, still extremely rare—and unlike Pie would soon outgrow the solarium. Dave had plans to release him in the south-eastern part of Aguillon, where there were hills and forests and lots of room for him to live happily. The hills were also full of wild goats, which would make for lots of good dragon snacks without angering the local farmers: Dave had bought Bobo’s egg off a dairy farmer who had intended to destroy it, concerned that if it hatched he’d lose half his cows. Personally, Dave had thought that on balance it was worth it. Cows were a lot easier to replace than dragons.

When he’d been a little orcling, Dave had loved dragons because they flew and because most of them breathed fire. He’d loved them, and so he’d wanted them. It was a simple pattern of thought. Now though, Dave thought a lot about protecting dragons, and making sure it was safe for them to live in the world, instead of wanting to keep them all. Apart from Pie, of course. Not that Dave kept Pie. Pie was his friend, and that was why he stayed.

Dave gave Bobo a scritch behind the ears, and then stood up and scanned the tapestries lining the walls. One of them was suspiciously lumpy.

“Petal?” he called softly.

The lump shifted, and the baby Malafrankian Feathered Wyvern stuck her head out from behind the heavy fabric. Petal was the first dragon Dave had hatched here at the castle, and she was beautiful. At least, Dave thought she was beautiful—the way Quinn and Loth had both recoiled when he’d rushed to show her to them hinted that they didn’t feel the same way.

Petal extended her long, leathery neck and peered at him. She was about the same size as a newly-hatched vulture, and the resemblance didn’t end there. Actually,