by Donna Grant
“Like the tree?”
“From the flowers of the tree, yes.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “My name is Con.”
“Is that short for something?”
His gaze briefly lowered to the floor to hide his disappointment. If she were Iris who decided to use a different name, she wouldn’t pretend not to know him. Not after all they had spoken about last time. She would have told him who she was. “Constantine.”
Her eyes widened. “That is a commanding name.”
“I suppose.”
“Where you headed somewhere in particular?”
He contemplated her question for a heartbeat before answering, “No.”
“I was on my way to have tea. Would you like to join me? It’s the least I can do for causing our collision.”
Con wasn’t sure she was to blame. Yet, instead of declining, he found himself saying, “That would be nice.”
Her face brightened. “Wonderful.”
They walked side by side through the market to the teashop. Once they were seated, a woman brought over a platter of pastries, teacups, and a pot of tea. Willow didn’t hesitate to grab the milk and pour some in her cup. Without asking, she put some in his as well.
Con watched her with amusement as she went about filling both their cups with tea. She put two cubes of sugar in hers and stirred as her gaze went towards the people walking the market.
“I could sit here all day and watch everyone,” she said. Her gaze slyly slid to his, a conspiratorial smile in place. “I make up stories about them. What they’re doing here, where they came from, and where they’re going.”
“Are you a writer?” he asked.
She took a sip of tea and shook her head. “Heavens, no. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Perhaps I should try it though. I do have all sorts of stories in my head, but I’m not sure they go anywhere.”
“You won’t know until you try.”
She lifted a shoulder daintily. “Perhaps. I’d rather keep guessing. You, for example. I look at your fine clothes and know that you come from wealth.”
“That’s easy to deduce,” he replied and chose one of the pastries.
Her eyes never left his face as he plopped the sweet in his mouth and chewed. With her gaze narrowed slightly she tilted her head to the side. “Good point. You could be a titled lord. You have that superior air that most do, but…you’re also different.”
“Different?”
“Yes. I cannot place my finger on how, though. Care to share with me?”
He laughed and drank his tea. “There is nothing to tell.”
“I beg to differ. I think there is much to tell about you.”
“I can do the same sort of trick with you,” he said, wanting to turn the attention away from him. “Your clothes are modest, but well made. You act and treat others as if you’re used to being in charge. That tends to come from someone of wealth. Do you dress down because you choose to? Or because you have no choice?”
She clapped softly. “Well done. And all this time I thought I had some kind of special talent.”
“Reading others is easy. The clothes they wear, how they carry themselves, and how they treat others can tell anyone what they need to know.”
“Hmm,” she said and took a sip of tea. “I suppose. Unless someone intentionally disguises themselves.”
Con immediately thought of Iris, but dismissed the idea that Willow was her. There was no reason for Iris to come to him as anyone but himself. She knew he was a Dragon King, his most guarded secret.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
He quickly shook his head. “No’ at all.”
For several minutes they sat in silence with Willow observing others and Con watching her. He didn’t know why he remained with her. He didn’t even know why he agreed to the tea. Yet, instead of leaving, he continued to stay.
“Status means a lot to people,” she stated.
“It always has.”
Her head swiveled to him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You say that as if you know for certain.”
“I do. Look through history.”
She waved her fingers at a little boy who stared at her at a nearby table. It took him a few seconds, but then he smiled brightly and returned the wave. Willow then moved her gaze to Con. “If you want to talk about that, then we can speak about the wars men have fought.”
“No’ always men. Celtic women fought and ruled alongside their men.”
Willow shifted in the chair before resting her elbows on the table. “Tell me something about you no one else knows.”
Her request surprised him, and even more surprising was that he wanted to answer her. Maybe it was because he suspected that Willow was in fact Iris, but he felt compelled to reply. “Sometimes I’d rather be alone, to forget the duties I must see to.”
“I knew you were someone in power.” But her smile was fleeting. “I can understand such feelings. Do you ever get the chance to do that?”
“No’ really.”
“That’s too bad. Perhaps you should change that.”
He nodded. “Perhaps I should. What is something no one knows about you?”
She scratched behind her ear and drank the tea before she met his gaze. “That I changed who I once was to become something else, and I fear the past will one day catch up with me.”
“It’s your past. You get to control it. You already have by changing.”
She smiled, but it was forced and fleeting. “Sometimes the things we want to keep buried have a way of finding us again.”
“Are you running from someone?”
Willow’s lips softened. “I’m not the type to run. I stand and fight.”
“I think you would.” Con looked at the clock on the wall and realized that an hour had already passed.
“Please, don’t let me keep you from anything,” she said.
He gave a shake of his head. “You’re no’, I assure you.”
So much had changed.
And yet so little had changed.
Con waited for the train to come to a stop before he exited the first class compartment in Inverness. Kendrick was already in the city to meet with an hotelier that wanted to add their scotch to sell to anyone visiting the hotel.
There was no need for Con to be there, but he made the trip anyway. He trusted Kendrick completely. Con’s arrival was simply to observe everyone’s thoughts and reactions to Dreagan whisky. And he liked watching Kendrick negotiate such contracts.
Kendrick had a way of coming into a room appearing a wee bit nervous and anxious. It was done on purpose. It set his opponents thinking they not only had the upper hand but could bargain for whatever they wanted. Kendrick allowed them that sense of confidence long enough to determine what their main objective was and what they were truly after.
Then, in a blink, Kendrick dropped the act and revealed the true mastermind that he was. Con never tired of seeing the shock, dismay, and even fear on their faces. Some might think Kendrick’s tactics were underhanded, but the Kings learned long ago that mortals never played fair in anything – especially business.
Con didn’t want to cheat the mortals out of anything, but he would do whatever was necessary to ensure that Dreagan whisky continued to build its reputation as the superior scotch. Their techniques continued to develop their brand into one that was exclusive for those who had the money and means to pay for it.
It was a few hours before the meeting, which allowed Con to walk the streets. His steps took him toward the indoor Victorian Market. He paused on Academy Street alongside the original 1870 entrance that consisted of three round arches. The top center arch had a bull’s head while the other two had rams’ heads.
Con made his way inside and immediately raised his eyes, as he always did. The ornate Victorian cast-iron and wooden domed roof was splendid to behold. He might not particularly enjoy humans, but some o
f their art and architecture was magnificent.
He slowly strolled by the individual shops, many boasting wares that couldn’t be purchased anywhere else in Inverness. Con had, on many occasions, purchased items at the market.
A double take made him pause and look over his shoulder at a dragon statue. He started forward just as he was turning his head back around. He caught a glimpse of the top of a hat before him. Instinct had him grabbing the woman so he didn’t run into her as he sought to come to a halt.
“My apologies,” he said.
She laughed and lifted her face to him. Dark brown eyes met his as she smiled. “It is I who should apologize. I wasn’t watching where I was going. There is just so much to see.”
Con stared at her a full minute in silence. She was pretty, the kind of face that stopped men in their tracks. Her voice wasn’t Scottish, but he couldn’t place where she came from. There was something about her that pulled at a memory. Iris kept coming to mind, but this woman had different colored eyes. Yet…Iris wasn’t human. Of that he was certain.
When the woman raised a dark brow in question, he cleared his throat. “I must ask your forgiveness again. For a moment, you reminded me of someone.”
“Do I?” she asked with a grin. “I hope it isn’t someone you dislike.”
Con found himself smiling. “No’ at all.”
“Good.” She adjusted her peacock blue hat that matched one of the main colors in her plaid wool sport skirt.
He watched as she moved her clutch from one arm to the next. Her off-white shirt complimented the dark locks he saw peeking from beneath the cap that were cut short, as was the fashion.
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Willow.”
“Like the tree?”
“From the flowers of the tree, yes.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “My name is Con.”
“Is that short for something?”
His gaze briefly lowered to the floor to hide his disappointment. If she were Iris who decided to use a different name, she wouldn’t pretend not to know him. Not after all they had spoken about last time. She would have told him who she was. “Constantine.”
Her eyes widened. “That is a commanding name.”
“I suppose.”
“Where you headed somewhere in particular?”
He contemplated her question for a heartbeat before answering, “No.”
“I was on my way to have tea. Would you like to join me? It’s the least I can do for causing our collision.”
Con wasn’t sure she was to blame. Yet, instead of declining, he found himself saying, “That would be nice.”
Her face brightened. “Wonderful.”
They walked side by side through the market to the teashop. Once they were seated, a woman brought over a platter of pastries, teacups, and a pot of tea. Willow didn’t hesitate to grab the milk and pour some in her cup. Without asking, she put some in his as well.
Con watched her with amusement as she went about filling both their cups with tea. She put two cubes of sugar in hers and stirred as her gaze went towards the people walking the market.
“I could sit here all day and watch everyone,” she said. Her gaze slyly slid to his, a conspiratorial smile in place. “I make up stories about them. What they’re doing here, where they came from, and where they’re going.”
“Are you a writer?” he asked.
She took a sip of tea and shook her head. “Heavens, no. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Perhaps I should try it though. I do have all sorts of stories in my head, but I’m not sure they go anywhere.”
“You won’t know until you try.”
She lifted a shoulder daintily. “Perhaps. I’d rather keep guessing. You, for example. I look at your fine clothes and know that you come from wealth.”
“That’s easy to deduce,” he replied and chose one of the pastries.
Her eyes never left his face as he plopped the sweet in his mouth and chewed. With her gaze narrowed slightly she tilted her head to the side. “Good point. You could be a titled lord. You have that superior air that most do, but…you’re also different.”
“Different?”
“Yes. I cannot place my finger on how, though. Care to share with me?”
He laughed and drank his tea. “There is nothing to tell.”
“I beg to differ. I think there is much to tell about you.”
“I can do the same sort of trick with you,” he said, wanting to turn the attention away from him. “Your clothes are modest, but well made. You act and treat others as if you’re used to being in charge. That tends to come from someone of wealth. Do you dress down because you choose to? Or because you have no choice?”
She clapped softly. “Well done. And all this time I thought I had some kind of special talent.”
“Reading others is easy. The clothes they wear, how they carry themselves, and how they treat others can tell anyone what they need to know.”
“Hmm,” she said and took a sip of tea. “I suppose. Unless someone intentionally disguises themselves.”
Con immediately thought of Iris, but dismissed the idea that Willow was her. There was no reason for Iris to come to him as anyone but himself. She knew he was a Dragon King, his most guarded secret.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
He quickly shook his head. “No’ at all.”
For several minutes they sat in silence with Willow observing others and Con watching her. He didn’t know why he remained with her. He didn’t even know why he agreed to the tea. Yet, instead of leaving, he continued to stay.
“Status means a lot to people,” she stated.
“It always has.”
Her head swiveled to him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You say that as if you know for certain.”
“I do. Look through history.”
She waved her fingers at a little boy who stared at her at a nearby table. It took him a few seconds, but then he smiled brightly and returned the wave. Willow then moved her gaze to Con. “If you want to talk about that, then we can speak about the wars men have fought.”
“No’ always men. Celtic women fought and ruled alongside their men.”
Willow shifted in the chair before resting her elbows on the table. “Tell me something about you no one else knows.”
Her request surprised him, and even more surprising was that he wanted to answer her. Maybe it was because he suspected that Willow was in fact Iris, but he felt compelled to reply. “Sometimes I’d rather be alone, to forget the duties I must see to.”
“I knew you were someone in power.” But her smile was fleeting. “I can understand such feelings. Do you ever get the chance to do that?”
“No’ really.”
“That’s too bad. Perhaps you should change that.”
He nodded. “Perhaps I should. What is something no one knows about you?”
She scratched behind her ear and drank the tea before she met his gaze. “That I changed who I once was to become something else, and I fear the past will one day catch up with me.”
“It’s your past. You get to control it. You already have by changing.”
She smiled, but it was forced and fleeting. “Sometimes the things we want to keep buried have a way of finding us again.”
“Are you running from someone?”
Willow’s lips softened. “I’m not the type to run. I stand and fight.”
“I think you would.” Con looked at the clock on the wall and realized that an hour had already passed.
“Please, don’t let me keep you from anything,” she said.
He gave a shake of his head. “You’re no’, I assure you.”
Erith had intended to go to Con in the market as Iris, but right before she put herself in his way so he would run into her, she chickened out.
She feared his questions. Worse, she was terrified that he would figure out who she really was.
Every lie she had told him compounded until it felt as like bricks falling upon her. Still, she worked it so that they were having tea.
As handsome as Con was with his wavy blond hair and penetrating black eyes, he was oblivious to the stares of other women – and men – who lusted after him. He looked more at ease than the last time she had spoken with him, but he still carried the weight of his position. And he always would.
She wanted to cheer for him and the other Dragon Kings for deciding to distill whisky as their revenue source and means of hiding in plain sight of the mortals, but she kept that to herself. For now. Maybe one day she would tell him how excited she was to see him not just living, but thriving.
Even if the world of the Kings had changed so drastically.
She felt his eyes on her. Con stared at her as if he was piecing things together. The short hairstyles of the time as well as the hat helped to disguise her hair, and she had used magic to change her eye color. But Con was smarter than most. She kept waiting for him to tell her he knew exactly who she was.
His anger when he found out might very well undo everything she had strived to accomplish. All this time she thought she had been a friend to him, but would a friend lie? Everything she had told him had been the truth – apart from her name and who she was. The closest she had come to telling him everything was the time before when she told him she knew he was a Dragon King.
She didn’t know who was older – her or Con. Not that it made any difference. He had his Kings to look out for while for many, many years, she’d only had herself. It was only in the last few millennia that she had the Reapers. They had changed everything for her. They had given her purpose, given her a family.
The many times she had spied upon the Dragon Kings, she had seen Con struggle with the things that she hadn’t handled well. She wanted to prevent him from going down that road – and possibly destroying everything he had worked so meticulously to build.
What kept Con going were his Kings. He was able to put his own needs and wants aside to focus on the Kings. One day, that would come back on him, but for now, he was needed. It wasn’t just the Kings who needed him, but every living soul on the realm. Because if Con ever lost Dreagan or another of the Dragon Kings, he would take the very path that had caused Ulrik to be banished.