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No! No! No!

Of all things to suddenly appear in her shop! Exactly what she did not need!

A dragon? Why did it have to be a dragon? True, it was a little easier now since she didn’t have to guard against dragon-deaf Thomas encountering the creature. And the children all had the marks of dragon-hearing, noticing the fairy dragons in the garden, and the garden wyrms who tried valiantly to keep down the rodents. Eventually, she would take them to the Blue Order office in Twyford to be registered with the Order. But they were still years from that—Peter was only ten years old, Royal and Jules younger still.

That did not mean she needed, much less wanted, a dragon lurking about. They were only trouble and always trouble. Little ones, big ones—the closer they got to you, the worse they were. Out in the garden, they could be tolerated. They pulled their weight controlling pests, but let one into the house, and it was all manner of fuss and bother. Making demands, ignoring all rules and requests, doing exactly as it pleased. And what sort of mischief might it encourage the boys in?

No, she did not need a dragon about. The creature needed to be sent on its way as quickly as possible. Preferably before the child got up, the staff arrived, and the customers started making demands.

Dragons were fully capable of shifting for themselves out in the rough. It was what they were meant to do, not muck about inside a warm-blood swelling. There was no cruelty in sending it out into its natural habitat. Not at all.

The dragon, somewhere between brown, green, and grey, pushed the side of the bag down with two delicate paws and poked its dainty pointed chin over the side. Huge brown eyes—so big they dwarfed its face—blinked thoughtfully. “Where am I?” The voice was soft, confused. Maybe a little afraid.

“You’re in England, Twyford to be exact. You must have put into port in London, and got put on a cart headed east.”

“Oh. I see.” The creature shivered. “It is quite chilly here.”

Oh, good heavens, it was a pathetic little thing. “Go warm yourself by the fire, but don’t you go getting yourself into mischief, you hear. I won’t be having that.” She folded her arms across her chest and pulled her shoulders back. Peter had started laughing at her for trying to look all big and powerful that way when she scolded them.

“Thank you kindly.” It crawled out of the bag and crept along the floor to the fireplace. Fragile wings folded along its back, close to the spinal ridges. Its long tail wrapped around its body, careful not to drag along the ground? Was it limping? Oh, good heavens, it was. It stretched itself out along the warm hearth, body sagging with relief. “Oh, oh, oh, yes. That is so lovely. I had wondered if I would ever see the sun again.”

“You’re from one of the islands I expect?”

“Yes. I don’t know what you would call it, but so many lovely things grew about, so green, and always so warm.” It inched a little closer to the fire.

“Careful or you’ll singe you hide, then where will you be?”

“I’ll be singed, and uncomfortable, and still very far from home.” It covered its face with its paws. “And I’ll be hungry and thirsty and alone.”

Blast and botheration. It was alone. Alone, with little hope of ever seeing home again. Alone like she was.

No, no, no. She did not need a dragon to complicate her life. It had to go. The sooner, the better.

Its stomach rumbled loudly.

Bless it all, just like the growing boys’ did! “What do you eat?”

“Right now, I’ll eat anything. It’s been every so long since I ate. I had to hibernate so long after getting caught in that bag.”

“How did that happen—no, never mind, it don’t matter. You look like a meat-eater, but I ain’t got much o’ that right now and need to save it for me boys.”

“One’s offspring must always come first.” The dragon nodded with such a genuine look of understanding—no, she could not be drawn into that.

“There’s rats out in the shed, though. Too big for the garden wyrms to deal with. Been meaning to get the rat man out here for them. You can have them if you want.”

“Are they fat and juicy?” The dragon picked his—it was a he—chin up from the hearth, a hopeful note in his voice.

“Fat yes, all stolen from me. But juicy—I ain’t never cooked on to find out.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Things were difficult, but not that difficult yet. “I saw you limping. Will you be able to catch rats?”

“I am just stiff, not hurt. I think. But I will not be fast enough to catch them until I get warm. Can I stay by the fire a bit longer?” He pressed himself flat against the hearthstones and opened his wings as though to catch more warmth quickly, before she forbade him.

Hungry and cold—oh my days! She huffed. “I suppose so. If you don’t get in my way and don’t get into anything.”

“I will stay right here and not touch anything.” The tip of his tail, and only the tip of his tail, flicked against the stone floor.

“See that you don’t get in the way of me work.” She wagged her finger at him—good heavens, she was talking to him like she did her sons! What had come over her?

He blinked huge eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

She turned to check the oven, lest she should succumb to his charm. She did not need a troublesome, meddlesome dragon in her life. “Cleaning the kitchen and preparing for the customers.”

“It smells very good in here. Very familiar. Like cacao.”

“That might be because you were sitting in a bag of cacao pods.”

“I suppose I was. I must smell like them, too.” He craned his neck to sniff his spinal ridge. “I do smell like those pods. You are right. But I still think your kitchen smells lovely. What are you making?”

“I make and sell chocolate, and tea, and coffee, baked goods and sweets to go along with them.” Just wait, he was going to ask for a taste.

The dragon smacked its lips. “That must be what smells so lovely. I have never smelt such good things before.”

“Stay out of it all. I’m warning you. That’s for the customers, not even the family touches most of it. It’s what pays the grocery and the tax man and who ever else is trying to separate me from me blunt.”

“No, no, I understand how it is. At home, on the plantations no one ever got nothing from the crops we grew. Those were for sale, you know, and none were allowed to interfere with that.” Bless it all, his belly rumbled. Could he fake that, or was it genuine?

“Glad you hear you understand. Now if you’ll be excusing me, I need to get on with me work.”

The little dragon pressed himself flat against the hearthstones, sighing and wriggling into them like they were the greatest luxury he had ever known.

Poor mite, it was terrible to be cold with no hope of getting warm. And that was a real issue for small dragons. They usually hibernated during the cold months. It wasn’t the cold months just now, but if one came from the islands, it certainly could seem cold. Perhaps he would become. accustomed to English weather. If it did not, he was in for a very difficult time.

But it was not her problem. Getting ready for the day was.

First thing was to get the water on. And there was a very great deal of it to draw to fill the two ten-gallon barrels that sat on low stands in the corner of the kitchen. She picked up two pails and headed for the well. There was still some water left in the barrels, so maybe it would only take eight trips out to the well. With her luck, the staff would just be getting here when she finished. Hopefully, the little dragon would be gone by that time. None of the staff heard dragons, and that was a level of complication she did not need to manage.

As she returned with the fourth set of buckets, the dragon met her at the door. “Thank you kindly for the warm hearth. Could you point me in the direction of your shed and my breakfast?”

She set down her buckets and walked with him halfway out to the shed. No point in letting the little fellow get lost before he had a decent meal. And if it meant putting a dent in the healthy population of rats, then who was she to mind? The dragon trotted off, and she returned to the kitchen.

Those eyes will get you everytime, won’t they?

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