Chapter 566: Black Dragon

Theodore spent the next three days proving that being well educated for four years old did not prevent him from being four years old.

He knew he was expected to greet people properly.

He remembered to thank the kitchen staff when someone brought him fruit, apologized when reminded after stepping on Ducky’s tail, and had learned that interrupting adults during meetings usually resulted in being removed from the room no matter how important he believed his contribution was.

He could sit through breakfast without throwing food.

He knew several letters, could count farther than Dean remembered teaching him, and had recently developed enough interest in maps that Arion kept finding small wooden animals positioned across printed administrative districts for reasons Theodore considered obvious.

None of this made him reasonable about the black dragon.

"I need to find it."

Dean looked up from the correspondence spread across the breakfast table.

Theo sat opposite him in a dark green sweater and soft trousers, eating pieces of apple with careful concentration while Boreas occupied the floor beside his chair. Ducky had curled himself beneath the table in hopes of acquiring anything that fell.

"You do not have a black dragon."

"I know."

Dean paused.

That answer was not encouraging.

"If you know you don’t have one, what exactly are you looking for?"

"The black dragon."

Arion lowered his coffee.

Theo looked between his fathers as though they were being deliberately difficult.

Dean rested his elbows on the table.

"Sweetheart, you have a red dragon in the nursery."

"That is red."

"Yes."

"And the silver one Nero sent you."

"That one is shiny."

"Correct."

"And the stuffed green one Rina bought."

Theo frowned.

"That is not a dragon. It has the wrong wings."

Dean had never examined its anatomical accuracy closely enough to argue.

"All right. You do not currently own a black dragon. We can get you one for the winter holidays."

Theo stopped chewing.

His expression became suspicious.

"No."

Dean blinked.

"No?"

"I already have one."

Arion looked at him.

Theo pointed toward the corridor.

"It is lost."

That was how the problem began.

By afternoon, Theodore had checked his bedroom, the nursery storage cupboards, Arion’s wardrobe again, Dean’s study, two guest rooms, the library alcove, and one corridor cabinet containing nothing except spare blankets.

Matthias followed him for most of it.

At first, he treated the search with the patience normally required for any elaborate game invented by a small child.

By the second day, Theodore was no longer treating it like a game.

"I told you," he said when Matthias attempted to redirect him toward lunch. "I have to find him."

"The dragon?"

"Yes."

"Did someone give it to you?"

Theo hesitated.

"No."

"Did you see it somewhere?"

Another hesitation.

"I know it."

Matthias mentioned that answer to Dean.

Dean did not enjoy it.

Still, children invented things.

Theo had imaginary conversations with wooden animals, once informed Minerva that the moon followed their car because it liked him, and maintained for nearly two weeks that a particularly decorative tree in the eastern garden belonged to him personally.

A black dragon was not impossible as an ordinary childish fixation.

Then the tantrums started.

The first came when Dean finally stopped Theo from opening another storage cabinet ten minutes before bedtime.

"You can look tomorrow."

"No!"

Theo tried to pull the door open again.

Dean caught him around the middle.

"Bed."

"I need him!"

"You need sleep."

"No!"

The scream echoed down the corridor.

Arion appeared from the adjoining room wearing sleep trousers and an expression of immediate concern, only to stop when he saw Theodore sitting on the carpet with tears running down his face, and Dean crouched beside him.

"What happened?"

"Your son has lost a dragon that does not exist."

Theo looked at Arion.

"Dada!"

That usually worked.

Arion crouched.

"It is bedtime."

Theo’s betrayal was spectacular.

He cried harder.

The following morning, Otto arrived.

Dean should have anticipated disaster.

The emperor had heard, through a chain of relatives nobody admitted responsibility for, that Theodore desperately wanted a black dragon.

Otto entered the family sitting room carrying a box almost as large as Theo.

Dean stared.

"No."

Otto looked offended.

"I have not done anything."

"You brought something."

"That accusation means very little in a palace."

Theo came running from the terrace.

"Grandpa!"

Otto immediately smiled.

Weak link.

Completely hopeless.

He crouched and opened the box.

Inside sat an enormous stuffed dragon covered in soft black fabric, complete with silver claws, folded wings, gold eyes, and enough detailed embroidery along its scales that Dean suspected the toy had been custom-made overnight.

Theo stopped.

Otto looked immensely pleased.

"There."

Theo stared at the dragon.

Dean waited.

Theo’s face crumpled.

"No."

Otto’s smile disappeared.

Arion, seated on the sofa with a tablet, slowly lowered it.

Theo backed away.

"That is not him."

Otto looked toward Dean.

Dean folded his arms.

"I warned you."

"You said he wanted a black dragon."

"He wants a specific black dragon that nobody has ever seen."

Theo shook his head violently.

"I saw him."

The room quieted.

Dean looked at his son.

"You said you knew him."

"I do."

"When did you see him?"

Theo’s breathing remained uneven from the beginning of another frustrated cry, but this time he did not answer immediately.

Minerva entered from the corridor just in time to catch the end of it, followed by Rina carrying a small paper bag.

"What happened?"

"Grandfather failed as a dragon merchant," Arion said.

Otto gave him a look.

Rina saw the enormous stuffed dragon and brightened.

"Oh, that is excellent."

Theo glared at it.

"No."

Rina stopped smiling.

Dean crouched beside his son.

"Theo, look at me."

Black had begun spreading slowly through the child’s eyes.

Not from distress alone.

Dean had learned the difference over the years.

There was focus in this.

Attention turned somewhere beyond the room.

"You said you saw the dragon," Dean continued gently. "Where?"

Theo turned his head toward the windows.

Arion stood.

Theo crossed the sitting room before anyone stopped him and pressed both hands against the glass overlooking the western gardens.

Beyond them, the palace grounds stretched toward the distant tree line.

Far beyond that lay the restricted territory.

The beast forest.

Theo raised one small finger.

"There."

Nobody spoke.

Otto straightened slowly.

Minerva’s expression changed.

Rina lowered the paper bag.

Dean walked toward Theodore.

"The forest?"

Theo nodded.

"My black dragon."

Arion came to stand beside Dean.

His face had gone completely still.

"You have never been there."

Theo looked up at him.

"I know."

"Then how do you know something is there?"

Theo frowned as though Arion had asked a question without an answer.

"I just know."

Dean felt cold despite the warmth of the room.

Behind them, Matthias had appeared silently in the doorway.

His attention followed Theodore’s pointing hand toward the distant north.

For several seconds, the former elder said nothing.

Then his expression tightened.

Arion noticed immediately.

"What?"

Matthias looked at Theo. Then toward the forest again.

"The ancient one."

Dean’s stomach dropped.

Otto frowned.

"The one still sleeping?"

Matthias nodded slowly.

Theo pressed his palm to the glass.

"He is not sleeping."