Wrong Bond: Your Omega Is Driving Me Crazy novel · Chapter 31 of 32

Chapter 31: Midsummer

The last dragon in the Northmark spent the spring carrying timber.

Prim ran him.

"Left," she'd shout from the ground, with a list in one hand and a pencil in her teeth. "Your other left. Down. Gently! That's a roof, not a goat."

Ivor would lower an oak beam the length of a barn into place with his jaws, as gently as a cat carrying a kitten.

Then he'd look down at her with one huge gold eye.

"Please," he'd rumble.

"Please," Prim would say, with enormous dignity, and he'd go and fetch the next one.

The kits rode on his back to the timber yard and back, all day long.

He pretended to hate every minute of it.

He slept in the Hollow, in dragon shape, curled round the square, and the foxes put their washing out to dry on his spines.

Blackmere sent a crew to build the new granary, the way the Court had ordered.

Osric came with them.

He hauled stone all spring, in his shirtsleeves, with the betas.

He never came near Linden's cottage.

He never spoke to Linden, except once, in the lane, to ask if the miller's wall was standing straight enough.

The miller's baby came in the middle of a storm in late spring.

Linden caught her himself, in the miller's rebuilt back room, with his sleeves rolled up and the rain coming down outside.

She was small and furious and white as new milk.

Nine tails, in her first shift, tiny as feathers.

By midsummer the Hollow was whole.

The granary stood in the square, new stone, with Prim's name cut over the door, which she pretended to be furious about.

Linden's mother's apple tree had blossomed on its mended branch.

And on midsummer night, Linden married a dragon in the Ring.

Every clan in the Northmark came.

Nobody spat this time.

Blackmere stood at the very back, last of all, the way the Court had ordered.

Osric was at the front of his pack.

He watched with his hands behind his back and his face very still.

Linden wore wool and his mother's moonstone, and a crown of apple blossom Prim had made, which kept falling over one eye.

Ivor wore his black velvet coat.

The grandmothers had spent a week on it.

The elbows were mended at last, with patches of gold thread, and the moth holes darned in silver.

Now Ivor walked into the Ring.

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