Inglewood
Amelia was in
the process of arranging chairs around the long dining table when she heard the
drakes start up a glad cry in the yard. A quick test of the bond left her
smiling: the other girls were arriving, which meant the humans they’d been left
in charge of were as well.
By the time
she made her way down the staircase into the dug-up back garden, Alpha’s other
three girls were swooping down to land on the grass beside him. There was much
nuzzling, and purring, and happy warbling as they all greeted one another. Then
Amelia reached them, and sleek, horned heads shoved into her face; warm snouts
pressed at her shoulders, and arms, until she’d given everyone a proper hello.
“Hullo,
girls. How are your charges faring? No one got snapped up by lions, did they?”
The snort of
a horse drew her attention to the mouth of the road, and the tunnel of
interlaced branches that led out of the wood and onto the manor lands. Connor,
Reginald, and Edward rode abreast, gray-cloaked Strangers walking ahead, spears
on shoulders, soldiers from four duchies walking behind, morning sunlight
dappling bright armor.
“They don’t
look like the finest army,” she mused aloud to Alpha, who’d moved to stand at
her shoulder, “but they’re ours, I suppose.”
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