Never Deal with Dragons by Lorenda Christensen Read Free Book Online Page B

sympathetic expression. Emory had been forced to choose his translator over his wife. It surprised me that she wasn’t welcome, but the invitation had specified only two. It made sense; we hadn’t RSVP’d, so they probably had the table placements for invitees and a date only. Amy would be furious. She’d likely told all her friends about the honor, and would be interrogated for the details at the next Tuesday tea party. For a moment I almost felt sorry for Emory. Amy was probably plotting ways to punish him for the embarrassment. Tofu for a week.
    The anxious butler once again tried to herd us into the house. He was shooting worried looks at Emory, like my boss was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. I quickly figured out why. Sweat beaded at Emory’s temples and his tuxedo buttons strained to hold in a heaving belly. Sometime between our arrival and now, he’d developed a nasty tic near his left eye. The butler likely feared he’d drop dead of a heart attack.
    I should be so lucky.
    “How are you holding up?” I patted him reassuringly on the arm.
    Emory paused in the act of mopping his brow. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Beads of sweat were already popping up to replace the ones he’d blotted.
    “No reason.” I might not have the most handsome date, but damned if I wouldn’t try my best to have a good time.
    Gathering the hem of my dress so I wouldn’t trip over it climbing the stairs, I allowed the butler to usher me into Lord Relobu’s dinner party.
    * * *
    Despite Carol’s fear that I’d be eaten and ruin her chance to wear my gold sandals, we were fifteen minutes into the party, and the only danger we’d faced was boredom. Emory and I were led down a gleaming hallway filled with sculptures and tapestries galore. Cognizant of Amy’s abrupt removal when Relobu’s instructions weren’t followed to the letter, I stifled my urge to stop and explore.
    Instead, I had to content myself with sneaking glances at Grecian forms and medieval armor rather than spending hours examining each one as I preferred. Whether truly hereditary or the dragons’ version of a practical joke, most dragons did indeed suffer an instinct to hoard. While humans were still concentrating on killing each other during the war, dragons were quietly amassing large fortunes in art and antiques. And jewelry. Lots of jewelry.
    Humans did what humans always do. They locked up their valuables in vaults at the local bank. Unfortunately, safe deposit boxes, no matter how thick the concrete securing them, were no match for hordes of dragons with a penchant for sparklies and an intellect to know where to find them.
    By the time the bombs stopped falling, the dragons were the new Vanderbilts.
    I followed Emory and the butler into a room defined by an enormous table. It didn’t take a genius to figure out we’d reached the dining hall. The table stretched the entire length of the room, and if I had to guess, there were at least one hundred human-style chairs tucked under its surface. The glossy red wood gleamed in the electric light given off by the twinkling chandeliers overhead.
    There were three of these chandeliers spaced evenly through the middle of the ceiling across the room. Each one was elaborately curved into complicated designs that were unique but somehow evoked a similar elegance as the tiny crystals caught the light. The design made the dark painted ceiling look as if it were filled with indoor stars. By the windows, round wooden beams, about a foot in diameter and six feet in length, lined the room, providing a perch for any dragons also in attendance.
    Our footsteps echoed on the bare marble floor as we were led across the room. My dreams of a dazzling night of dancing and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous had been crushed. Emory and I were the only persons present, dragon or human. I couldn’t help but smile when I noticed the four place settings arranged neatly near the end of the enormous table.