“Wait,” he said. “Wait! Your face—it’s changed somehow, hasn’t it? There’s something different—”
“You see?” Benedict was breathing hard as he leant over the bed, still holding the traveling case shut. “This isn’t a practical joke, Aubrey. This is real. Dragons can do magic.”
* * *
Five minutes later,Mr. Aubrey was still sputtering. They all sat on the floor now, even Elinor. There was simply nowhere else to go. She could only hope that her newly-outspoken aunt wouldn’t be too horrified by the state of her riding habit when it was returned.
Benedict reached across to brush his hand across Elinor’s cheek, and she blinked. “I beg your pardon? Did I miss something?”
“No,” he said, and gave her a rueful half-smile. “I just missed you, that was all. It seemed too unfair that Aubrey could see your true face and I couldn’t.”
“So the illusion is tied into touch.” Mr. Aubrey was staring at Sir Jessamyn, not at Elinor. Adapting to circumstances, the little dragon had built himself a nest of papers and was settled comfortably in the center of their triangle, watching the humans around him with bright golden interest.
“Does nothing else ever shatter the illusion?” Mr. Aubrey asked.
“I don’t think so,” Elinor said. “One of the housemaids knows who I am, but she worked that out by logic, not by sight.”
“By logic?” He snorted. “There’s nothing logical about magic. Any reputable scholar could inform you—”
“Any reputable scholar would be wrong,” said Benedict. “You’re all too shackled by academic theory, old man. This dragon in front of us doesn’t care about what should or shouldn’t be possible for him. He justis.”
Sir Jessamyn preened under the attention.
Elinor rolled her eyes. She would have scooped him into her lap, but he was all too clearly enjoying himself where he was. As Mr. Aubrey leaned closer, Sir Jessamyn stretched back his long, glittering neck to show off every blue-and-green scale.
“Tell me exactly what happened to create the illusion,” Mr. Aubrey ordered.
Elinor took a deep breath. “The first time was the night we met. After I came back from supper. I was…” She felt Benedict watching her, and chose her words carefully. “…a bit anxious and unhappy. I think Sir Jessamyn was worried about me.”
“You acted so cheerful at supper,” Benedict said. “Why didn’t you ask us for help?”
“Stick to the point,” said Mr. Aubrey. He was studying the golden whorls that curled beneath Sir Jessamyn’s chin. “Tell us exactly what happened between you and your dragon.”
“I was talking to Sir Jessamyn—he was comforting me, really. And I told him…” Elinor stopped, looking again at Benedict. “Do you think you could leave the room for just a moment?”
“No,” said Benedict. “Keep going.” He reached out to lace his fingers with hers.
She held his hand tightly, but kept her gaze turned away from him. “I suppose I was wishing that I looked different. That Iwasdifferent, as a person. That I was someone people would take notice of. I was thinking of Mrs. De Lacey, because I’ve read and heard so much about her. So I told Sir Jessamyn that I wished…” She closed her eyes, searching for the exact words. “I wished that people could see me differently—more like her.”
“And what did your dragon do next, exactly?”
“He breathed fire on me.”
Aubrey’s head snapped up. Panic shone in his eyes and on his suddenly haggard face. “Please,” he begged. “Please tell me there was no fire involved. Not that, at least.Pleasetell me you imagined it.”
“I didn’t. I saw it clearly. What’s wrong?” Elinor leaned forward. “Is it a disaster? Does it mean something terrible?”
Mr. Aubrey let out a groan of pure despair. “It means that those bloody damned fairy tales were right.Again! Oh, God, Hawkins, stretch out your leg. I need to kick something.”
“Kick one of your books,” Benedict said. “You have more of them to spare.”
“Why not?” Mr. Aubrey stuck his fingers into his hair and tugged frantically, eyes wild. “They’re all useless now, aren’t they? Everything we’ve all been working on, everything—”
“Oh, come now,” said Benedict, and grinned maliciously. “Not every book is useless, old chap. What about all those fairy tales?”
From the look on his face, Mr. Aubrey was about to commit an act of violence. Elinor cleared her throat hastily to distract him.
“What about those illustrations you told me of?” she said. “You said there had been drawings of other dragons in South America with similar markings to Sir Jessamyn.”
