Nessy's Locket
Page 2
A fortnight ago, they received a message from Sergei to say the two females had left the safety of Siberia. He suspected they had undertaken the arduous journey to join Kirill. For days, Cara had paced the cliffs, peering out over the North Sea and praying the little dragons would survive.
Last week she had found them collapsed on the grass at the edge of the cliff. Kirill guarded his females until they had caught their breath. Then he had helped first one, then the other, into his inaccessible cavern where they had been recuperating ever since.
Quite frankly, Cara was dying of curiosity to know if the females had recovered yet and what exactly the three of them were doing in the cave. All she managed to glean was that the male dragon hunted more frequently and took the prey back to his lair. Which reminded her that she needed to talk to the estate manager. They would need to raise more livestock to keep the three dragons fed and content. Perhaps in the years to come, hatchlings would stalk the nervous sheep. Or the sheep might learn to graze with one eye kept to the skies and grow longer legs to run faster.
Rachel joined her, dressed in a similar outfit that made Cara smile. Trousers were much more practical for adventures. Perhaps they would spark a trend that would result in women throwing off their corsets and bustles to stride out, free from the shackles of fashion. Or more likely, dress designers would move to creating new trouser styles that women would slavishly follow.
They walked from the rear of the house to the large barn, where Jackson held the reins to two horses. One steed was a tall and elegant dark-brown mare, the other a pony with a burnished gold coat and spun silver mane that looked as though it had stepped from a fairytale.
Jackson lifted Rachel up into the saddle. “There you go, princess, don’t let doll face lead you astray.”
“Shouldn’t you be practicing knot tying to show Amy later?” Cara poked her tongue out at the henchman as she sat lightly in the saddle and took the lead line for the pony.
“Why does Uncle Jackson need to practice knot tying?” Rachel’s brow furrowed as she stared at the former pugilist, who turned a shade of red under her innocent scrutiny.
Cara bit back a laugh. Amy had confessed the things Jackson did with a length of rope, but they weren’t appropriate to disclose to a child. “Amy has some rambling roses that need to be tied up against a wall.”
Jackson went another hue darker and narrowed his eyes at Cara. She might pay for that quip later, but it was worth it.
“Don’t you have dragons to annoy? Be a shame if they took a bite out of you,” he muttered and patted the pony’s rump.
“We do indeed have somewhere else to be.” Cara beamed at him as she nudged her mare into a walk, and the obliging pony followed alongside.
Rachel improved daily as a rider, but Nate insisted upon the lead line for her safety. Cara thought the girl rode just fine with one hand and that the viscount was overprotective. Lord help the first boy to cast eyes at their adopted daughter; the hapless fellow would find himself wearing concrete shoes and feeding the fish at the bottom of the Thames.
Once past the front lawn, Cara urged her horse into a trot and then a slow canter. The pony kept pace, and Rachel smiled and giggled at the freedom horseback gave her. Cara wished she could show such freedom to all the children growing up in the cramped London conditions. Perhaps she could bring some of Rachel’s friends out to stay for a while. It would also give the girl company her own age.
As they neared the ocean, Cara dropped their mounts back to a walk. Kirill shot up from below, and the horses snorted and jogged sideways at the sudden appearance of the predator.
Cara scratched the mare’s wither to help her settle. “Don’t fret, he won’t eat you. I have made him promise no horses.”
Rachel giggled. “How do you know he promised?”
Cara dismounted and helped Rachel to the ground. “Because I caught him stalking your pony one day and told him off. He looked most chastised, and besides, he hasn’t eaten one of the horses yet.”
The dragon made lazy circles high overhead as they allowed the horses to graze. Every day Kirill grew larger and was now as big as a horse, but with wings. He had recently been banned from the house after an incident involving too much rich sausage and a prodigious amount of dragon vomit in the entranceway. Not to mention the risk of his clawed wings damaging the new wallpaper Amy had installed.
“Do you think we could ride him one day?” Rachel craned her neck to watch the sunlight flash over the dragon’s hide.
Kirill seemed made of molten lava as reds and oranges moved and flowed over his scales. Sergei had said he was aligned to the fire element and the females to water. She had caught Kirill puffing smoke, and she suspected he might yet surprise them by breathing fire.
“I have no idea, but he grows larger every week. We will have to ask Sergei if it is possible.” Cara watched the creature that once only existed in books, and ideas spun in her head. Would he let her climb upon his back? She imagined swooping down on the horses riding Rotten Row, Kirill spitting flames and scattering uptight snobs.
She glanced down at her stomach. If Nate ever allowed her to try flying on dragon back. She suspected that once his protective urges were fully aroused, she would find herself wrapped in cotton wool and barely allowed to breathe on her own.
Cara walked closer to the cliff, where the grass baulked at growing and bare dirt clung to the edge. Far below, the ocean crashed against the rocks and threw up spray and salt-laden air. Kirill had made his home in a cavern beneath their feet. The entrance was only accessible by wing or rope. For over a week, the ground shook as he scratched out dirt and rock to make room for his two females. It appeared Amy wasn’t the only one intent on redecorating.
“How do we get down?” Rachel asked as she joined Cara at the precipice.
She had considered dropping a rope ladder down to the cavern entrance. However, given Nate wouldn’t let their daughter ride off the lead line, she doubted he’d be happy to have a one-armed girl climbing a swinging ladder high above rocks and ocean. Another option would be a trap door in the grass and a tunnel downward, but that would leave the dragons vulnerable to invaders.
“We don’t get down. I shall ask Kirill if the girls are ready for visitors.” Since she had cradled the eggs on their way to Siberia, Cara had developed a bond with the dragon. Like her connection to Nate, the link with Kirill became stronger each day, and he seemed to understand her intent, if not the exact words.
She waved her arms to attract his attention and then pointed to the ground. He looped a large circle and at first looked as though he would ignore her request. After another pass, he skimmed low to the ground and landed with a soft thud. Kirill shook his wings and folded them against his back. He took a few steps closer to Cara and stretched out his triangular head while he trilled deep in his throat.
“Yes, I can take a hint.” Cara laughed as she reached out and scratched his head.
His skull was the size of a horse head, his stout body as long as a horse, and his tail added another full length on its own. Fully extended, his wings had a span of close to fifteen feet. His scales gleamed copper and bronze while fire flared in his multifaceted irises.
Cara scratched the hard ridges above his left eye socket, and the dragon closed his eyes and hummed in contentment. When the pressure wasn’t hard enough, he leaned into her hand and demanded more. She began to suspect that dragons shared a number of characteristics with cats, particularly how they wanted attention on their terms.
“We want to visit the girls. Could you please ask them to come out onto the grass so we can see them?” Cara asked as she rubbed her nails over the top of Kirill’s head.
The dragon gave a humph and opened narrowed eyes at her.
Definitely like cats, and this one was considering whether or not to humour her request.
“You cannot show them off if they do not emerge from the cave. It is a beautiful day…wouldn’t they like to feel the sun on their backs?”
Rachel gasped and teetered on the brink as she peered down. Cara grabbed the girl’s jacket in case she overbalanced trying to catch sight of the plummeting dragon. Kirill popped up, and both woman and girl jumped backwards out of the way. He snorted a dragon cackle at his trick.
“Very funny, now go fetch the girls.” Cara waved him in the direction of the dark entrance to his lair.
He emitted a bugle sound and dove for the cavern. At the last second he tucked his wings in tight and nosed into the entrance like a blade thrown at a wall.
“Show off,” Cara muttered.
Seconds ticked by, and she wondered if he was sweet-talking the shy females from the safety of his lair. Just as they were about to give up, the sun caught a glint of copper. Kirill’s nose reappeared, followed by the rest of him. He leapt into the air and gave lazy flaps of his wings. Round and round he flew as first one and then a second dragon emerged and took flight.
“Oh, they’re beautiful,” Rachel whispered as the three dragons circled overhead.
One female had scales of warm beige edged in vivid blue and then a dot of green that gave an effect similar to the eye on a peacock feather. The other had scales the colour of cool slate with a green iridescence that shimmered like deep water. The sky above Cara and Rachel was painted in swirls of fire and water as the three dragons performed acrobatics. They circled, soared high, and then dove to drag their claws through waves.
Cara and Rachel sat on the grass and watched the dragons play. The grey and green female dove into the water, folding her wings at the last moment. She barely made a splash as she disappeared. Seconds later she shot back up, a fish dangling from her mouth. As she flew, she gulped the fish down her throat.
The peacock-scaled female skimmed through the water, dragging her feet, and then rose up with a cry, a fish caught between her claws.
Once they had all fed on fish and stretched their limbs, the dragons skimmed over the lush grass and sun-warmed rocks. Kirill landed first and called to his girls, as though giving an all-clear signal. They back-winged as they lowered their bodies to land behind the cover of his larger form. Peeking around him, they reminded Cara of shy children hiding in their mother’s skirts.
A rumble sounded deep in Kirill’s chest, and he gave the slate and green dragon a nudge as though reassuring them that Cara and Rachel weren’t dangerous. The little beige and blue, who was markedly smaller, hung back and peered at them from under Kirill’s wing.
Cara held out a hand as the creature approached and let the female sniff her skin. “Hello, little one. You might not remember me, but I was there the day you were born.”
The dragon sneezed as she inhaled Cara’s scent. Her eyes whirled through shades of green, but she held her position. Then with a backwards glance at the larger male, she rubbed her cheek against Cara’s palm.
Rachel stepped closer to the one hiding behind Kirill and mimicked Cara, holding out her right hand. “Hello, my name is Rachel. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The little female with her peacock-feather scales gave a chirp not unlike a sparrow and stepped out from Kirill’s protective shadow.
Cara scratched the head of the green female and smiled as the blue allowed Rachel to stroke her hide.
“What are their names?” Rachel asked over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. Sergei didn’t mention names in his message to say they were gone. But we need to call them something.” Cara marvelled at the warmth of the dragon’s scales. Looking at them, you would think them cold reptiles, but they seemed to soak up the sunlight and they were like touching heated stone.
Rachel rubbed the blue under the chin. “They need names worthy of them. Perhaps something to do with water. But this one so reminds me of a peacock. I’m sure she is very clever, for each scale is marked like an all-seeing and all-knowing eye.”
Cara regarded the green female. What name would suit her? She was like the mysterious depths of an ocean and needed an appropriate name. Giggling made her turn to find the peacock-scaled female had lain down and rolled over. Rachel was rubbing her tummy.
Cara laughed and re-evaluated her opinion of dragons being like cats. No cat would ever act so undignified. For the creature to expose its vulnerable tummy displayed a measure of trust in the young girl. Or perhaps the little dragon found a kindred spirit in the small human.
“We will give names some serious consideration. I’m sure the right ones will present themselves,” Cara said.
They spent a happy hour scratching and playing with the dragons. Kirill watched until he obviously felt ignored. Then he nudged a female out of the way and plonked himself at Cara’s feet. Taking a risk, she climbed over his back and straddled him in front of his wings. From that vantage point, she could scratch his head from behind.
“Oh,” Rachel whispered with wide eyes.
“Don’t you dare tell Nate.” Cara kept her feet lightly on the ground. In some ways it was no different than backing a young horse while it sat on the ground. Except with a horse she only risked being bucked off, not having her mount take flight and drop her from a great height.
She most definitely would not be telling Nate.
3
As Cara sipped peppermint tea the next morning over breakfast, the aethergraph on the sideboard chattered and spat out a spool of paper. Nate glared at the contraption as though it had deliberately interrupted his quiet coffee. Peace reigned in the cheerful room, as they were the only two present. Nan and Nessy had returned to the Leicestershire estate and taken Rachel with them. Amy and Jackson were holed up in the cottage before Amy returned to medical school for the week.
With a softly muttered curse, Nate rose from his chair and tugged the strip of paper free of the aethergraph’s teeth. He read the slip as he pulled it through his fingers and then looked up. “We have been summoned to London by the queen.”
The queasy unrest in Cara’s stomach rolled from one side to the other as though she stood on the deck of a ship braving a rough ocean. She had already thrown up on waking and feared her scant breakfast was about to abandon ship as well. “Let me guess—she’s not amused by our newest residents?”
He passed over the message. “It doesn’t say, but that would be my assumption. Victoria has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“I had hoped no one noticed Kirill roaming the London streets. There were so few people out given the unnatural cold, but I suppose any vessel off the coast might have seen the dragons fishing.” Cara scanned the brief missive and then rested a hand over her tiny bump. The queen had imprisoned Nate in the Tower of London when he refused to give up the dragon eggs. How enraged would she be to discover the mythical offspring had moved into his country estate?
“Well, if she throws you in the Tower again, I shall swoop down on Kirill to rescue you.” She placed a fake smile on her face as she glanced up at him, gauging his reaction to dragon riding.
Nate stood behind her chair and rested one hand on her shoulder while he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “She won’t imprison me this time, and there will be no dragon rides.”
“How can you be so sure what the queen will or won’t do?” Cara had so much to worry about, and each day brought some new concern.
“I imagine she will be so angry that we will meet a surprise firing squad on the steps of Buckingham Palace.” He flashed her a grin and sent her a soothing touch through their bond.
After breakfast, Cara took her time dressing. Her outfit had to be something conservative to appease the queen’s sensibilities, but that would also still reflect Cara’s style and flair. She settled on a deep blue gown, just in case the queen did shoot Nate while he stood beside her. She wasn’t going to ruin an expensive, pale-colou
red gown with bloodstains.
The dress she chose fell in soft folds to the ground that would be easy to pick up and run with, and the wide black belt concealed her growing bump. Next she added a silk shawl and a percher hat with a blue veil. Her appearance conveyed respect for the queen but would enable a quick escape if they needed to turn tail and flee.
Nate met her downstairs dressed in his usual black, the only flash of colour the blue waistcoat beneath his frock coat. He carried his top hat in one hand as they walked out to the diminutive airship, Bobby, that was anchored on the lawn. The small vessel ferried them to their Mayfair home far quicker than any carriage, and they were in London in less than two hours. Cara’s insides seemed to lurch up and down with every bump the craft made, and the motor jarred her bones. By the time they landed on the roof, she was grumbling.
Nate held her hand close to his heart as he helped her out. “Are you grumpy because of the queen, the baby, or the journey?”
“A combination of all three.” She glanced to Jackson as he helped Amy from the little airship. She had a tiny suspicion he had deliberately hit every air pocket to pay her back for her teasing with a rough ride. Or he might have been angry because his time with Amy was cut short when he was called to ferry them back to London.
Nate tucked Cara close to his side as they took the stairs down from the roof. “You will have to brace yourself. I am reliably informed that pregnancy gets worse, not better.”
“If you’re trying to cheer me up, you are doing a terrible job.” They wound their way down through the floors to emerge in the hallway on the ground floor. Nate briefly stuck his head into his office to see if any urgent dispatches waited, and then they headed out the front door.
In the driveway stood two gleaming bronze mechanical horses, hitched to the carriage. Cara hopped up into yet another conveyance, and Nate climbed in beside her. At his signal, the driver up front took command of his range of levers, knobs, and pedals, and soon they were being pulled towards their interview with the queen.