Never Deal with Dragons Read Free Page B

elsewhere, instead meeting his eyes straight on. If he’d expected a heartbroken puppy, he would be sadly mistaken. His lips quirked into a faint smile. He touched a hand lightly to his head in a salute that was both mocking and old-fashioned.
    Before, my heart would have fluttered at the acknowledgment. Today, it burned with rage. How dare he come here after what he’d done?
    Emory cleared his throat behind me in an obvious order to finish what I’d started. I reluctantly turned back to the group. Taking a deep breath—empathy and understanding were key—I handed Mr. Sompston the tissue and answered his question.
    “Of course we can do that. Annabelle was important to you. And as such, I feel strongly that she’ll serve as a symbol of hope for all who see her face.” I had to force myself not to roll my eyes at the speech. It wasn’t one of my better moments. I mean, seriously, how could a dead cow serve as a symbol of hope for anything? Especially as DRACIM’s livestock were used exclusively to feed hungry dragons. Hope was in short supply on our farmland.
    For the pigs and for me.
    Emory piped up, probably feeling left out as his earlier speech had been interrupted by a gagging Isiwyth. “And we’d love your input on a plaque we’ll install at the entrance.”
    Idiot. We already had the farmer appeased; now we’d have to commission a plaque. But Mr. Sompston was already nodding eagerly at Emory’s words, so I swallowed my complaint and turned to the purple dragon, translating the gist of the discussion thus far.
    “Mrs. Armatoth, can I assume we’ll be receiving a donation from your clan? One large enough to cover the expense of the barn and a small anteroom for Annabelle’s memorial?”
    I held my breath. The facts of the case were in Mr. Sompston’s favor according to the laws imposed by Lord Relobu, Isiwyth’s dragon lord and uncle. When she took the farmer’s cattle without permission, Mr. Sompston was within his rights to attack her. Lord Relobu’s laws might not be gentle, but they were effective.
    But just because he could attack her didn’t mean she would be happy about it. And unhappy dragons made bigger messes that those with simple morning sickness. I did not want a human injury this early in the morning. The paperwork would kill me.
    I sighed in relief when Isiwyth waved her hand in a vague acceptance. Her arm had healed nicely; the claw of her pinky finger was the only thing missing from her regrown hand. “Of course, dear. It’s the least I can do.” The large dragon angled her body to the left and addressed the farmer directly. I stood at Isiwyth’s shoulder, ready to translate her words. “Mr. Sompston, please accept my deepest apologies. I had no idea she was a friend of yours. To tell you the truth, I am not fond of cattle, their bones are large enough to cause distress if swallowed...”
    “Um...thank you, Mrs. Armatoth.” I jumped in before she could go into detail about her culinary tastes. There was only so much paraphrasing I could do in the translation. “DRACIM appreciates your cooperation in this matter. Would you be so kind as to wait here while I draw up some paperwork? It won’t be but a moment.”
    I made a mental note to call in a cleanup crew and turned to the farmer. “Mr. Sompston, would you mind walking with me to my supervisor’s office? I’d like to take down your information, as we will need to speak with you about the arrangements at a later date.”
    I gestured toward the door, praying I could get him out of the room before the deal fell apart. The paperwork for Mrs. Armatoth would be very basic; we had templates for pretty much everything. But it was important that Mr. Sompston felt involved, so I’d write up a quick addendum to the fundamental contract about the memorial. And the stupid plaque.
    Mr. Sompston nodded and held out a hand. “Thank you for your support and understanding. This is—will be—a very trying time for me. I appreciate your