Archive of Our Own ^beta

Edith is not brave. 

She would not even say she is exceptionally devout or trusting or anything that separates her from the other women whom she takes tea with, other than her odd connections to Laurence, and his particular brand of strangeness. 

But when Laurence brings her the news of the fool-hearted courage of her late husband, she finds herself oddly glad that she has known such bravery. Laurence, her dear Bertram—they are fine choices for who she hopes to raise her son as. 

All that to say, though, when another dragon circles down to land a short distance from Temeraire at Allendale Manor, almost too early in the morning for polite company, she doesn't hesitate to head that way, heedless of the way fear licks up her spine.

She will not cower, even if instinct says she should, and that does not make her brave—it makes her a fool. 

“Admiral Roland,” Temeraire is greeting cheerfully, as she stumbles over her feet and enters the clearing. She hadn't run—she can't usually in her skirts—but her brisk pace is certainly faster than she had realized she could move in her dress. “And Excidium—how delightful! What brings you to Laurence's?” 

“The damned Admiralty,” Roland says, and if the language hadn't stopped Edith, the sight of a woman on dragonback would. 

She had seen the papers, but had passed that off as senseless gossip—surely no one would allow it, even though she had hoped that it might be true. Despite what her mother has attempted to preach to her, she does not hold with the idea that women should only exist for the good of the home. 

But, here in the dew-damp clearing, a woman steps down from a dragon, and Edith doesn't stop herself from sweeping into a curtsey, even as Admiral Roland startles at her graces. 

“Oh!” Temeraire says, sounding delighted to introduce them, even as Edith casts an uneasy look over the new dragon. She is not quite sure how best to approach the beasts—Laurence has assured her that they are much like Temeraire, though Temeraire had preened when she'd honestly responded that she doubted any dragons were much like Temeraire, which Laurence had shaken his head at but not disavowed. “Admiral Roland, Excidium, may I introduce you to Miss Galman. Miss Galman, this is the lauded Admiral Roland and her dragon, Excidium.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Edith murmurs, lowering her eyes for a brief moment, before the Admiral returns her greeting. She glances at Excidium, but he has already turned to Temeraire, the two exchanging gossip about people and dragons she does not know. “Could I offer you an escort to the house?” 

Roland looks bemused for a pause, before her face breaks out into a thin smile, one that tugs at her scar. Edith spares a moment to wonder at the sight of it before Roland clears her throat and nods. 

“I would be delighted,” she says, before she extends her arm, Edith winding hers through with only a faint pause. “Pray tell, would you know where Laurence is?” 

Edith half-guides, half-follows, her other hand clenched tight in her skirts as she steps through the grass, trying hard not to stumble in her skirts as she watches the Admiral's long legs in her breeches. The odd harness Laurence wears looks even more strange, dangling slightly from Roland’s waist. It feels almost obscene to see them, and she tears her gaze away before she gets caught staring.

“I believe he is by the stables today,” she says, meeting Roland's eyes for a beat before she drops her gaze again, her cheeks faintly pink. “There was word that the boys were being taught how to ride.” 

Roland clicks her tongue, looking vaguely fond. “The man is uncommonly attached to his strays,” she says, before she seems to catch on to what she's insinuating, and slides a look at her. “Though only some are strays, I should say.”

Edith hides a smile at the thought of her James being one of the strays toddling after Laurence. Roland is not wrong, at least not with the village boys who scramble across Temeraire and fight with sticks; Laurence often corrects a grip or stance as he reads quietly to his dragon. 

They will miss him dearly when he goes, and her heart aches a bit at the thought. She has grown used to him being around again, as he was when they were naught but children. 

Though, she supposes, it may set her mind at ease to no longer startle with fear at the sight of every dragon. Temeraire is kind and gracious, and has enough manners that she finds an ease when she speaks with him, though sometimes she can forget he is a dragon, and will start when he begins to make strange leaps in logic that they will have to backtrack and unwind. And Laurence is no help with that—he often agrees , and it is just her, arguing politely with a twenty-ton beast.

But Temeraire is only one—she cannot hold in her nerves at the sight of others easily.

“It is not a slight,” she says, instead of worrying at her fear of dragons that lingers still, even after the welcome of Temeraire. “I should think that more men should be beholden to the duty for the good of all, rather than the good of just us .” She snaps her mouth shut, rather surprised at her candor with the Admiral, and blushes.

Temeraire has clearly had more of an effect upon her than she has realized. 

“Now, I fear I must beg your pardon,” she murmurs, as they crest the hill, the sounds of the children carrying on reaching their ears. “I find myself too sharp by half these days.” 

Roland shrugs, looking unconcerned. “Think nothing of it,” she says bracingly as they make their way down into the thick of things, Edith having gently shifted their path towards the stable, rather than the manor. The grounds are familiar to her, though it feels as if a dream to be walking them again, all these years later. “If we did not speak honestly, there would be nothing worth saying in the world, though, I must ask that you don't tell Temeraire. He already has quite many opinions on how things should be done, and the Admiralty is already quite occupied with his initial suggestions.” She shakes her head, but even Edith can hear the fondness in her voice as she continues. 

“And his opinions on the Government are more Jacobian than anyone knew the beasts could be; the vast majority blame Laurence for his mind but everyone who knows Laurence knows that duty is the first thing on his mind, though it may be a broader form of honor to the common people than the Government would like.” 

Edith blinks at her, unsure what exactly she should say, and Roland laughs, confident and kind. “I am woolgathering,” she says. “Pay me no mind.” 

“I think it is very interesting,” Edith says, as direct as she dares be. “I have never thought so much about who the dragons are until Temeraire, and though he is a dragon, I have found that I do agree with most of his sentiments, though I am not a fan of his suggestion for golden-threaded robes.” She shakes her head, half-smiling, as she remembers his rather fierce opinions on clothing. “He has a far more well-to-do fashion sense than I.” 

Roland barks another laugh, the sound oddly warm. “That is indeed dragons for you,” she says, shaking her head as they come to a stop before the barn doors. Edith can see James playing with one of the village children, drawing shapes in the dirt and talking excitedly. It brings her ease, even as it breaks her heart—how is she to do this alone, she wonders sometimes, before she refocuses on Roland. “They say they want nothing but equality until it comes to their Captains and their claimed crew, and suddenly it is only their people who deserve the best.” 

“You have gained Temeraire's eye, then, if he is speaking of how to alter your clothes,” Roland says thoughtfully, though she does not ask why. 

Truthfully, Edith does not know why Temeraire has such high regard for her either. After the first afternoon, James had asked to come and visit every day, and she hadn't had the heart to deny him. 

So, they have found themselves here, as guests of Lady Allendale far more often than not, and she has been pulled into conversation with Temeraire about why certain things are done in such peculiar ways. She cannot imagine that anyone is pleased with her odd, meandering explanations of society and tea and gardens that happen as her son races across dragonback, except for Laurence and Temeraire, and sometimes even Mister Tharkay, all of whom always seem happy enough to speak to her.

And while she has enjoyed reconnecting with Laurence, she has no desire for his companionship, especially not as he dances around Tharkay. 

She doesn't shrug, too mindful of her upbringing even now, and instead nods hesitantly. 

Roland eyes her for another moment before she smiles. “Thank you for the escort,” she says cheerfully, snagging her hand to brush a kiss over the back of it, as cheeky as a boy playacting at adulthood. “I hope to speak with you again sometime.” 

Edith curtseys, nodding, feeling her cheeks pinken in the faint sun at the action. She has done nothing but blush this whole time, and she has never felt more of a fool. “I would like that,” she says, and watches the long strides of Admiral Roland until she has rounded the corner out of sight. It's only when she can hear her speaking with Laurence that she steps into the barn, calling for James. 

*

Society in London is stuffier than she remembers, but useful enough when the gossip of wives at tea brings news that both Laurence and Temeraire are in town, along with a flurry of other dragons. Though it is an odd thing, to call upon him in London rather than in their summer homes, she cannot stop herself from paying him a visit. 

She brings James as well, unwilling to stifle his excitement over seeing Temeraire, even though it is not quite proper. Her mother is already throwing fits over the lack of airs James has, but Edith finds herself wearied of it. 

Her son is still a child yet; she will not see him suffer an undue burden, and she finds herself echoing sentiments she'd shared with Temeraire, oddly enough, as she makes her points in the quiet arguments she has with her. 

She is anxious for the spring season, ready to go back out to the Manor, even if it's still under her mother's keen eye. Lady Allendale has already invited them over as soon as they’re settled, and she finds herself grateful for the care of Laurence's family. 

She raps sharply against the door, James fidgeting in the cold, even though they've taken a carriage to Laurence's abode, out on the edges of London. She's distracted enough by the sight of the stained glass dragons that line the front door, that she startles when a young woman in breeches opens it. 

“Yes?” the woman says, frowning at her, only to pause when she sees James, something uncertain flickering across her face. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

Edith blinks at her rudeness, but doesn't falter. “We have come to call on Laurence and—”

“Temeraire,” James says, interrupting. “He is ever so big! And he can fly!” 

Edith smiles, smoothing a hand over his head. “He can, darling,” she says, before looking up at the woman. “If you need to check if we are allowed, please inform Laurence that Miss Galman has come to call.” 

“Oh,” the woman says, her whole countenance changing abruptly. “Miss Galman? You've met my mother, Admiral Roland. Do come in, my name is Emily—please, you have leave to call me that.” 

“Edith,” Edith offers, stepping in gratefully, glad to be out of the cold wind. She is oddly charmed by Emily's complete lack of social graces and finds herself wondering what high tea would be like if Emily attended. She has a feeling her breeches may knock a few of the matrons into a stone-cold faint, and smothers the unkind thoughts. “And this is my son, James.” 

“Do you fly on dragons?” James asks, his eyes wide. His shyness has been fading recently, as he asks questions more than hiding behind her skirts, but she has never heard him be so forthright with anyone from the beginning. 

Emily laughs, throwing her head back, before she crouches down to speak to James eye to eye. Edith's estimation of her character only rises at the nonchalant act.

“I do,” she says, spreading her hands, and even in the sheen of candlelight, Edith can see the scars that mar her skin. “I've flown as part of Temeraire's crew from the beginning, when I was no more than ten.” 

“Well, I am nearly ten,” James proclaims, though he is only just seven. “Will I ride on dragonback someday?” 

Emily hesitates, glancing up at Edith, who blinks at her. She has no idea what the bounds of flight are, but she also cannot deny that she has grown more and more curious about what it would feel like to fly. Temeraire's letters have spent at least half a page describing it ever since James had an interest, and even Laurence has slipped a few pieces of his perspective in. 

“Someday, you might,” Emily settles on, rocking back on her heels, before she pushes herself up. “Shall I escort you to Temeraire and Laurence?” 

“If you would, we would be grateful,” Edith says quietly, as James crows about flying, even as he tucks himself closer to her skirts. 

Emily winds herself through the halls, utterly at ease, and Edith finds herself vaguely shocked as a multitude of voices grow louder and louder. 

“I had not realized he would be hosting this evening,” she says, pausing as Emily glances at her and stops too. “If I am intruding—” 

Emily waves a hand at her, cutting her off. “It's just his old formation and a few others,” she says, clearly not understanding that that is why Edith is hesitating. She is vaguely a gentlewoman, and society would dictate that she return another time, but instead she steels herself, setting one hand upon James’ head, and steps forward. 

Emily leads them through another room, before they step into the very back room, an odd amalgamation of kitchen and sitting room, and sunroom, with wide windows, three of which are open, despite the roaring fires set in the two fireplaces. There is a door too, flung open into the large courtyard, and Edith can spy at least two dragons out in the gardens. It makes her want to laugh at the sight, uncouth as it would be.  

There are six others in the room, though Edith can only name Laurence, Mister Tharkay, and Admiral Roland. 

“Oh!” Laurence says, upon spotting them, rising from his chair and stepping towards them. His face crinkles into a welcoming smile, and Edith relaxes, glad enough not to be openly and obviously intruding upon Laurence, despite what she feels. “Miss Galman—I did not know you were coming to call.” 

Chairs scrape across the wooden floor, as others make to stand, and she waves a hand at them frantically. “Pray, do not make a fuss,” she says as loudly as she can, and watches gratefully as both Tharkay and Roland drop back into their seats immediately, the others following more slowly. “I am awfully sorry to intrude, James and I had word of you and Temeraire in town and thought we might call upon you.” 

Laurence smiles even wider and nods, before he glances down at James. 

“I have brought Temeraire a gift,” James manages quietly, and fishes into his pocket to pull a strange-looking tea saucer out. It is embossed with a black dragon, gold gilded on its edges. He had seen it on a walk with her through the market one afternoon and had asked for it for Temeraire. “I am sorry—I do not have one for you.” 

Laurence looks oddly touched, one hand pressing against his chest as he bows his head. “It is a fine gift, Mister James, and he will be delighted to have it.” 

James flushes and presses his face into her skirts again. 

She sighs faintly and glances at Laurence, lowering her voice. “If we are too much trouble, or intruding, we can give this gift and go,” she says, even as her eyes drift curiously around the people in the room before she looks back at Laurence. “I would not want to interrupt what seems to be a lovely evening in company.” 

“You are not,” he says, looking almost shocked at her suggestion of it. “I shall introduce you, and we can head out into the gardens, Miss Galman.” 

“Edith,” she says, before her courage deserts her. She has thought lately that she is sick of being a Miss , especially with these odd people she has begun to find over and over again in her life, all of whom seem to eschew all tradition and be better for it. She had had enough of Miss before she was married, and finds herself thoroughly done with the thought of returning to it, at least with those whom she truly enjoys speaking with. “I would give leave to use my name, for you and all who are here, if they are truly such good company.” 

“Will, then,” Laurence says, smiling at her even brighter, before he leads her over to the gathering of chairs. “And these are Berkley—he will not respond to his given name, so do not even try—Catherine Harcourt, John Granby, Tenzing, as you well know, and Jane Roland, whom you have met before.” 

“And you have met me,” Emily says, grinning, her legs kicked out before her as she sprawls out across a seat. Edith suddenly realizes that nearly everyone here is deep in their cups, though none appear to be in a delicate state. She supposes she has called on Laurence later than she intended, and starts at the time on the clock—why it is nearly four o'clock and she hasn't even thought about supper, too consumed with the plot to visit Will. “We met at the door.” 

“You answered the door?” Laurence says, startled, before he glances over at Edith, a frown on his face. “I apologize if you were waiting long.” 

Edith waves away his concerns. “It was not long, and Emily was a wonderful host,” she murmurs, smiling slightly when Emily flushes bright red and mumbles something under her breath as the aviators make fun of her good-naturedly. 

“And we are pleased to make all of your acquaintances,” she says, setting a hand on James’ shoulder as she casts an eye around the room. “I beg your pardon for the interruption.” 

“Any friend of Laurence is a friend of mine,” Berkley says, grinning at her as he slouches back in his seat. “I'm glad to have made your acquaintance as well.” 

The rest of them murmur much the same, before Roland pulls herself out of her seat. “If you are going to see to the beasts,” she says, her eyes bright in the firelight and the setting sun. “I shall come too.” She glances at Laurence, who squints at her before nodding. 

“We shall be but a moment,” Laurence says, leading the three of them through the room and out into the gardens. 

In the gardens, five dragons sprawl out, though only Temeraire and Excidium are familiar. The others Edith thinks she has seen before, flying to and from here and there, and as one of them jets off steam, she realizes that it is Iskierka, Temeraire's oft-spoken-about sort-of-partner.

James’ bravery deserts him at the sight of them, crowding in closer to her skirts until he's nearly completely enveloped in them, his hand clinging to hers. 

“Oh! ” Temeraire says, delighted at the sight of them. Edith doesn't shrink back as most of the others turn their luminous eyes on them, but it's a near thing. “Miss Galman, these are my friends, Lily and Maximus, and that is Iskierka.” 

“I should be introduced first ,” Iskierka rumbles, opening her yellow-slitted eyes. “As I am the most adorned with precious titles and goods, and you would do well to not forget that.” 

Temeraire huffs at her, but turns his head, neatly ignoring the interruption. “And you have met Excidium before,” he continues. “Though it has been a while.” 

Edith drops into a curtsey, smiling at him. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she says, glancing at all of them, before she adds, “And you are all more than welcome to call me Edith, especially among such fine company.” 

Temeraire straightens, as if she's given him something precious, only to duck back down as James emerges from behind her. 

“I have brought you a gift,” he manages, even through his fear, before he holds up the tiny saucer. Next to Temeraire's head, the plate seems almost inconsequential. 

Laurence extends a hand in offering, and James lets him take it.

The two of them watch as Laurence holds the plate up for Temeraire's perusal. 

“There is gold on the edges,” Laurence says quietly, a faint smile on his face, “And a dragon embellished on the center, shaped much like you, my dear.” 

“It reminded me of you,” James says, ducking his head as the dragons murmur about what a fine gift it is, and how kind he is for bringing it. Even Iskierka agrees, though Edith is fairly certain it is only because Temeraire has pointedly addressed her about it, and they all refocus as James continues. “And I thought that if we came to take tea with you, you should have your own saucer.” 

Temeraire lowers his head as close to the ground as he can. 

“This is extraordinarily thoughtful,” he says, sounding as though he means it. Edith spares a moment to wonder at how many gifts he has received simply because someone thought he might like it, as opposed to an attempt to buy their way into his good graces, and resolves to keep an eye out for more, both for him and Laurence. “I shall have it kept in my pavilion at Tharkay’s—if you call upon me, it shall be brought out at once.” 

“That will be lovely,” Edith says, before she steels her spine and turns to Excidium, determined not to be rude. “Pardon my question, Sir Excidium, but were you flying overhead earlier today, above the commons?” 

Excidium cocks his head at her, as if surprised by her address. She hopes she has not been unspeakably ill-mannered, as it occurs to her rather belatedly that she should have probably just asked the Admiral. She opens her mouth to beg pardon again, only to stop when Excidium clears his throat. 

“I did, indeed,” he says, his wings drawing in tighter, the black and blue sheen of them only slightly indistinguishable in the fast-fading light. “Before we came here, Roland and I had business down in the center of town.” 

Edith nods, as if she knows what he's speaking of, and offers him a faint smile. “Word on the street was about your handsome flying,” she says, even though the exact wording she'd heard was more along the lines of how it was a damned shame that such handsome flying was piloted by a woman. “I only wish to pass along the news.” 

Excidium rumbles, and for a second, she thinks she has overdone her simple congratulations, before she realizes he is chuffed. 

“I have flown far nicer and well,” Iskierka says, before the dragons start to pick apart who has flown the steadiest and who has done the most tricks. She hides her smile when Temeraire loftily says that he has been the most impressive flier with the most continent visits, only for it to be brushed off as an unimpressive statement. 

“Well, now you've done it,” Roland says, grinning at her. In the dim light, she looks even more otherworldly than usual as her scar shines silver. Edith cannot tear her eyes away, though she's unsure why, as Roland continues. “They'll be on this for the night, and we'll have word that dragons are doing loops above London for applause sooner rather than later.” 

“I meant no harm,” Edith says, but she can see the broad smile on Laurence's face from the corner of her eye. She has not seen him so content since he decided to flee to the Navy, all those years ago, and it gives her enough courage to add, “And it is the truth that the flying of Excidium is magnificent, with all credit to him and his captain.” 

Roland throws her head back and laughs. “I am not so draconian to be plied with praise and easy in someone's hands, though you are quite dangerous, having figured this out for the beasts.” 

“If the dragons are to revolt, I would not be disinclined to see them revolt in Edith's name,” Laurence says mildly, as if he is not often the source of such potential agony. “It would be quite something to see.” 

“I will not be made a conspirator,” Edith says, but she's laughing as she says it. 

There is something odd in the air in these gardens of Laurence’s. She feels more of a person, and less of a statue; content in a way she had not thought she could be, with her husband in the ground and her son often sickly. 

She has known Will for years now, decades between them, and though she thinks she could have been content with him, she finds herself more grateful for his friendship than anything else. 

They are a long way from the hills of the manor, and an even longer way from their stiff and awkward selves. 

“I hope you are happy,” she says abruptly, all sense knocked from her head as she turns to Laurence, before she dares extend the same to Roland. “I hope you both are—this is quite a life you lead, and I would hope you can forgive me for this bare and honest truth, but please know you may call upon me in London or the fields of my father’s manor.” She ducks her head, her cheeks burning, honesty raw and unfamiliar on her tongue as she drops all pretense of polite societal sidestepping. “I would be delighted to host, for any reason.” 

“I would call that a handsome offer,” Roland says, her voice low but no less truthful. “And I believe I shall take you up on it, sooner rather than later.” 

“You shall never escape us now,” Laurence warns, but the thought of that is so delightful that Edith does not have a single reply. 

*

Summer has returned with a vengeance, and Edith has found herself haunting her childhood manor more often than not. 

James has been swept off to classes and teachings, and is spending more and more time off with his many tutors, which she is glad for, except for how she suddenly doesn't know how to fill her time. 

She has no interest in attempting to remarry, and all the men her mother holds in high esteem make her more determined than ever to simply not . 

She does not mind being known as a widow and is content to hold the Woolvey lands until James is of age. It's not quite done, or it wasn’t years before, but with the news breaking about the dragons who only take women, more and more change has seeped through the fine lines that divide society. 

Her mother thinks her quite mad, but Lady Allendale supports her, and that's truly all she needs. She finds herself chafing under the strict regimen her mother seeks to impose, and her father is no help with what he deems women's work . 

She crests the hill from one of her long midafternoon walks she's found herself taking—avoiding the tea that her mother has organized—and comes to a sudden stop at the sight of four dragons spread out beneath her. 

Two are familiar, but the others she doesn't recognize, though she's aware enough to think they are the most common kind in England—Reapers of some sort, she believes. 

She doesn't run down the hill as if a child, but it's close enough, the excitement sweeping her up until she's almost gasping with exertion. 

“Miss Galman,” one of the riders calls, sounding oddly delighted and relieved. “How welcome to see you again!” 

“She has given us leave to call her Edith,” Excidium rumbles, before he swings his great head around to look at her. “Unless I am mistaken.” 

She shakes her head, pressing a hand to her racing heart. She cannot believe she has dashed straight to dragons instead of away—has she no sense? Even if she knows these dragons, she doesn't know what they are up to. This could have been a battlefield for them, and she has run out into the middle of it with all the grace of a newborn chick.

“No, that's most certainly fine,” she manages, before straightening, shading her eyes to peer at the top of the dragons. She can't see the Admiral atop Excidium and ignores the odd pang she feels at the realization. “I must apologize—I fear I am always in such a strange state when you see me—and I do not mean to keep interrupting your business.“ 

“That makes life so interesting, though, does it not?” the other dragon says, reaching up to deposit the woman who had spoken onto the ground in front of her. “I daresay that Temeraire is always in a state, and he is always doing strange things, and all the better company for it.” 

One of the unharnessed dragons makes an odd hiccupping chirping growl in its throat, and Edith blinks in surprise when Excidium answers in the same sweeping sound. 

“They are some of the ferals,” Harcourt says, reaching up to tug a twig from her hair. She shakes her head ruefully. “And to think that I am in such a state as to be covered in debris, when all you have done is come to greet us.” She smiles, reaching out to pat her dragon. “I know we have met before, but I am Catherine—please do call me so—and this is Lily.” 

“Enchanted to meet you,” Lily says dutifully, before she brightens. “Your son was the one who gave Temeraire that fine saucer. Have you found any more?” 

“Dearest, do not pester her so,” Catherine says chidingly, even as she shrugs at Edith, nonchalance in her manner. She clearly has no intention of letting her dragon take a gift intended for another. “Temeraire will be most upset if you conspire to take his beloved treasure.” 

“If it is given to me, it would be mine,” Lily says, matter-of-factly. “And therefore he couldn't be upset.” 

Edith pats at her hair, glad she had taken the time to adorn her hair with a few pearls. It is times like these, when she can help even in the tiniest way, that she feels better for all the wealth that is at her fingertips. She tugs one free, the largest that she can manage, though it is too small to mean much to a dragon. 

“I do not have a saucer, and the gifts that my James has been collecting will have to wait for when he can give them,” she demurs, because James has been collecting tiny trinkets for all the dragons he knows, before holding up the hairpin. “But would it suit if I gave your Captain one such pin?” 

All of the dragons lean in, and she holds herself rabbit still, stunned anew at her own audacity. She has no idea if she has any sense anymore, as she offers the pin for perusal. The two unharnessed ones keep the furthest back but trill at each other, as though they’re conversing, and both Lily and Excidium add in their own short responses.

“Is it nice?” Lily asks, after a moment of silence when all four have gone quiet, glancing from her to Catherine and back to the pin. “If it is nice, then Catherine should have it.” 

“It is a pearl attached to a golden pin,” Edith manages. “I believe the whole set would be thousands of pounds, but this smaller hairpiece would be a mere two hundred, though that is more so because it is very old.” She pauses, thinking it over. She actually has no idea the value of such a hairpiece, but knows that it is still worth something . “But I am not very sure, and I understand if it is not quite what you would like for your Captain.” 

“Edith, you are too kind,” Catherine says, her eyes wide when she glances over, and Edith blushes a furious red, suddenly realizing how uncouth she must appear. She has offered a gift and then spouted off about the gold it is worth, though it is the one thing she knows dragons seem to universally care for. Truly—how she ever got married is a mystery, she knows, and she would have married Laurence only to stumble into this sort of thing over and over again. She is always attempting too much.

“I beg your pardon—” 

“That is fine,” Lily says, sounding satisfied as she cuts Edith off. “I shall accept on behalf of Catherine.” 

“What in the Devil is happening here?” Roland says, rounding the wall of dragons, only to stop short at the sight of them nosing at her. “Miss Galman?” 

“Edith,” Excidium murmurs, though as a dragon, it is not quiet at all. “She has given Harcourt a gift.” He turns his head back to look at Edith. “Roland and I await your gift for us excitedly.” 

Edith opens her mouth, but doesn't know what to say as another one of the ferals rumbles something in their strange language. 

Lily growls back, though it doesn't sound angry to Edith's untrained ear, before she sits back with satisfaction. 

“They also approve,” she says, as though that means anything to anyone. “And they say that if the owner of these grounds is so kind, they will not steal any more cows from the tenants, so long as they can come to some sort of an agreement.”

“Oh,” Edith says, before she peers at the ferals, reports from Mister Heinlin coming to mind. “Have you been taking from the far north fields?” 

Excidium translates her inquiry, and she waits patiently, refraining from glancing at Roland, though she wants to. She can sense the other woman staring at her, even as Catherine murmurs something. She hastily closes her fist, hiding the pin from sight as though she's done something wrong, before she remembers herself and offers it to Catherine. 

Catherine takes it, with a faint expression of disbelief, and returns to murmuring with Roland, before Excidium's polite cough catches her attention. 

She snaps back to attention, looking up at him.  

“They have,” he says. “And they've taken some from the pens to the northwest.” 

“That's a mixture of ours and the Allendale estate—Laurence's family,” she says, frowning. “It's our crossbreeding pasture for when our flocks grow thin.” She glances at the two ferals. “Would they be inclined to take the deer from our lands in the east? If they need help in the winter, I can see what our stock has—it would not do to not be neighborly.” 

Excidium blinks at her, and she feels as though she has crossed another line, flushing faintly. 

“Or would that not suit?” she asks. “I do not mean to offend—pray tell them that I wish to share with them, not place unfair restrictions on them. It is only that the northern fields are kept by an elderly man, one who takes great pride in his cattle. He has been quite upset with the theft, though he shall most probably not be glad I handled it, as he believes it is a man's duty to the land, and—I'm rambling, am I not? I apologize for that as well, it is a terrible habit.” 

“That's quite silly,” Lily says, kneading at the ground, furrows appearing beneath her great claws. “Whyever would you not take care of your land? It's your land regardless of if you are a man or a woman.” 

“The Government does not quite see it as such,” Edith says quietly, unsure of what else to offer. “Many only place power in the hands of men.” 

Lily sighs. “Temeraire is right,” she grumbles. “This Government is quite silly and mistaken. Why women can do anything men can do, it is quite clear, and no one shall say otherwise!” 

“That is quietly seditious, my darling,” Catherine says, finally breaking away from her quiet conversation with Roland. “Do not worry yourself so—the world of men is slow to change, but it is changing.” 

Edith nods. “I am the owner of some fine lands to the—” she pauses, turning to the ferals before looking at Excidium. It has only just occurred to her that she can help these dragons, rather than feeding them scraps from her family's fields. 

“Is their home close to here?” she asks, tilting her head. “If not, would they be closer to the edge of Scotland, by the mountains?” She hardly waits for him to translate before she continues. “I have lands there, vaster ones than down here, and I can set the herdsman to growing our stock. If they are willing and able to take from one field, which I can stock for them explicitly, I do not see why I would not be willing to host them in the wilds of my land.” 

She rocks back on her heels, feeling vaguely pleased with herself. “Do they have greater numbers? I believe the Woolvey lands hold 500 acres, though a good portion of it is in the foothills of the mountains—there are caves there, that they are more than welcome to make into dens. I would apologize that there is not more of a pavilion-like structure, but this is the best solution I can offer.” 

As Excidium sets himself to translating, Roland steps over to her side. 

“You are very strange, Edith Galman,” she says, half-smiling when Edith sends her a scandalized look at the bluntness of her words. “And very interesting. I can see why Laurence was so taken with you.” 

Edith laughs, before she smothers it, trying not to be impolite. “Laurence is an uncommonly good sort, and while he surely knew that I do have opinions not fit to be shared with the general public, I do not think he would have known what to do if we were married and I was spouting off these odd sentiments. Bertram was content, so long as I did not say such things publicly, which was very kind of him.” 

“I am not sure what is making me so loud and opinionated these days,” she confesses, glancing up at Roland through her eyelashes before she returns her gaze to the grass, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as best she can. “Though I have to imagine I am only emboldened by the appearance and support of the women's aerial corps.” 

Roland grins at her, sharp and fierce. “Well, I shall do my best to continue to live up to the standards of which you seek to guide yourself,” she says as Excidium huffs, before he turns to look back at them. 

“They are worried that there will already be dragons there, and they would not want to displace them,” he says, before he adds lowly, “I knew I had seen them before—they had attended Temeraire's strange lecture on ownership and community a fortnight back.” 

“I cannot state if there are dragons there,” Edith says, refusing to let her shoulders curve under this disappointment, though it's been rightfully considered as it should be. “I do not believe I have enough time to ride there and back to be home for dinner.” 

“Not by horse,” Catherine says, her eyes twinkling when she glances at her. “But by dragon, I would say that there is more than enough.” 

Edith blinks at her before looking up at the dragons. “Fly?” she says weakly, her stomach turning at the very thought. “I did not know that was allowed.” 

“Who would stop you?” Lily asks, sounding earnestly curious, her tail twitching. “Why, it is just us here.” 

“I will not drop you,” Excidium rumbles, somehow already ready to take her on. “Do not worry, Edith.” 

She stares at him, her palm damp with sweat, before she nods shallowly. “Oh, all right,” she says, surprising even herself. “I suppose I shall only have this one chance.” 

One of the ferals growls before they both launch themselves into the sky. 

Edith just barely holds in a gasp at the sight, her eyes tracking them as they spiral up and up, until they look like birds. 

“Pray tell me that we won't go so high,” she manages to say, gripping her skirts tightly. “Is there a way for me to strap in? I have seen the harnesses you wear.” 

“Roland will hold you,” Excidium says easily, as he plucks Roland up and sets her on his back. 

Edith watches with wide eyes as Lily does the same to Catherine, until it is just her standing on the matted-down grass. 

“You will be in good hands,” Catherine calls down, and Edith straightens, nodding decisively. 

“If it will not be too much trouble,” she says to Excidium. “Though I worry I will be taken with fear and overcome.” 

He turns his head to regard her, and she does her best not to fidget under his gaze, before he shakes out his wings. 

“I will do a low circle,” he says kindly, holding out a taloned paw to let her step onto. “And if it is too much, I suppose I can let you off at once.” 

“I would appreciate that,” Edith whispers, before all of her breath is snatched away as she rises and she slams her eyes shut. Roland's grinning face meets her gaze first, when she opens them into slits as soon as she stops moving, and offers her arm, as though they're set to attend a party. 

“Miss Galman,” she says.

“Edith,” Edith manages, holding a shaking hand out to grasp her arm. She steps delicately onto the back of Excidium, hardly daring to breathe. “Please, do not be so formal when I am set to ride with you on the back—on the back of your dragon.” 

“Jane, then,” Jane says, rolling her shoulders back and helping her over the shifting scales, as Excidium slowly stands upright. 

It feels almost as a ship does, or at least that is the closest Edith can come to the truth of it. It is not nearly as unsteady as she feared, though her skirts do make a mess of things, but by the time she sits when Jane has directed her, she thinks she is not doing too terribly. 

Jane slides in behind her, so close it's quite improper, only for Edith's face to go up in flames as she winds an arm around her waist. The other woman doesn't seem to have any hesitation, her hands broad and firm as she curls her fingers over the curve of her hip.

“Pardon my reach,” Jane murmurs, low in her ear. “I would not have you fall from the sky and be caught by Excidium's hands if I can help it.” 

Edith manages a nod, shivering at the brush of Jane's sure hands as they fasten odd straps to her bodice and around her waist. Once she's been deemed ready, though Edith has no idea how secure she truly is, Jane does not inch back, and instead keeps one arm secured around her as she pats at Excidium's scales. 

“All lies well,” she shouts, and Excidium's wings flare out, wide and gleaming in the afternoon sun. The sheen of his colorful wingtips ripples in the sun, looking all the more beautiful in the bright sunshine.

Edith sucks in a deep breath, and presses herself back against Jane, holding tight to her arm as, with one smooth motion, they ascend. 

Wind whips around them, catching at her flyaways, and Edith swallows a shriek as Excidium flaps twice more, gently spiraling higher and higher.

He soars above the hills, the green of summer stretching out beneath them. Edith can easily spot her manor, its windows thrown open in search of a breeze. The sprawl of the village, a short walk away from home, seems only mere moments away in the air, and the gravity of the situation hits her all at once. 

“We're flying,” she says, dazedly, shading her eyes to get a better look at everything. “We're in the air and we're flying .” 

It's astonishing .

She thinks she has never understood Will so well. 

“It is not too much?” Excidium asks, turning his head to peer at her. She shakes her head, dropping her hand to clutch at Jane as he banks and turns, smoothly heading north. 

Jane laughs, the sound lost to the rush of wind, and Edith wants to scream with delight as they fly faster and faster. 

She has never felt so undone with possibility. 

“You're shaking,” Jane murmurs into her ear, tugging her back when she leans forward, glancing about with interest at the rigging set up. “Are you sure this is not too much?” 

“I shall confess to nerves,” Edith says, because how could she not be nervous? “But this—Jane, if it is not too forward of me to say, this is glorious .” 

“You are beset with societal corrections in the strangest of ways,” Jane says, and Edith glances at her long enough to catch the curve of a smile on her face. “If you would like, we can ascend again, James in tow.” 

Edith turns completely, shocked at the invitation. 

“If that was too forward,” Jane says wryly, her hands settling on Edith's waist as Exidium tips up, a draft of warm wind spilling over them. “Pray tell me now—I have no need or sense of what's done in high society.” 

“I would not take you from your duties,” Edith says, still staring at her. “But that is the only issue I may have—Jane, that is truly an offer of which I could not refuse, though it may take James more than a moment to be set with it. I would not want to burden you with a squall if he were to be unhappy with things.” 

Jane laughs, her head tipping back, and Edith shivers as she realizes she's tracing her eyes over the cut of her jaw and the length of her neck. She snaps her head back around, focusing on the mountains that are slowly growing larger in the distance, and resolves to ignore her odd pull to the Admiral. 

“If I were put off by the cries of a babe, I would be a poor aviator indeed,” Jane says, mirth still in her voice. Her hands tighten for a moment as they dip, Edith's stomach twisting as they fall, before Jane loosens them as they level out. “It will be no trouble, though I am hesitant to say when exactly—we are only here because of the reports of locals down at the village and the man whom you know.” 

“And are you very busy outside of that?” Edith asks, curious. She knows that Will has retired, but has no idea what the other aviators may be doing. When she has encountered them, it has always been in times of leisure, though there was that time early on that Jane had come to see Will. 

Jane sighs, the wind nearly swallowing the soft sound. “We are always busy,” she says, sounding almost wearied by it. “If I retire, I would hand over Excidium to Emily, and I am not ready to be done with dragons, and Emily is not yet ready to be tied to one, though I suppose that is also in part to Demane.” 

“One of Will's strays?” Edith asks, vaguely recollecting a tale of two boys from his foray into the wilds of Africa. before Temeraire's complaints come to mind. “The older one, with the strange misshapen dragon?” 

Jane snorts inelegantly, and Edith swallows back the laugh that bubbles up at the sound. “He is no more misshapen than any other dragon,” she says, before her tone becomes far more serious than Edith expects. “His cracking was strange, and the weeks after sound terribly rough, even when Laurence is the one who is telling the story.” 

“I would not expect it to be pleasant,” Edith murmurs, wishing she could take back the topic as it dredges up terrible memories of that year. She had hated what the papers had said of Laurence, of the war. She never wants to see such stark and awful things said about a friend again, though she had not been offended when some of the more vapid families in London had stopped speaking to her. It had been the only bright spot in a sea of darkness, aside from James and Bertram. “Terra Australis sounds as though one of the worst places Laurence has gone.” 

Jane sighs again, but says nothing more, and Edith is not brave enough to attempt conversation again. They fly on for some time as she studies the ground, the winding streams of water she can see. As the crow flies is a far faster thing than by road, and she squints in all directions, trying to figure out exactly what she's looking at. Every time she can identify a town or a landmark, she feels a rush of satisfied joy. 

It's an altogether pleasing ride, so smooth that she only just realizes that they've nearly arrived as they fly across the bridge before the foothills of the mountains. 

They drop down lower to the ground before she can say anything to Jane, Excidium somehow knowing exactly where to go, as a few moments later, the land begins to take on a familiar layout.

The large countryside Woolvey manor, simply known as the Oak House to her, appears, nestled in between the large trees, and the sight of it from above is something to behold. 

In the warm summer light, it nearly glows with peacefulness; the low stone wall next to the meandering creek, the bright red shutters thrown open, the ivy that creeps up the side, clinging tightly to the wood and stone. 

For a moment, caught in an odd sort of daydream, she wishes that this is her home, that she is returning as she always will, with dragons and good company—but before it can take on too strong of a shape in her mind, she banishes that thought. It won't do to get maudlin, not now with things to do. 

She turns to Jane, who's eyeing the thickets of trees with a faint frown. 

“There is enough space on the other side of those trees,” she says, ignoring the way her hands are shaking as people emerge from the house and stare up at them, circling in the air. “It may be pertinent to land there and walk over, rather than arriving with a fleet of dragons.” 

Jane quirks a smile in her direction, before reaching behind her and unfurling a flag of green. A shadow passes overhead, and Edith glances up to see Lily soaring above, the two smaller ferals seemingly playing tag off to her side. 

Jane waves the flag twice, the green snapping gaily in the wind, before Lily curves into a steep dive, aiming neatly for the clearing 

“Are we landing now?” Excidium asks, turning his head to peer at them and sounding oddly plaintive. “But it's such a lovely day to fly.” 

“We will have the return trip too,” Jane says, patting his neck. “And we may well have to fly to find if there are ferals, here in the mountain caves.” 

“That is true,” Excidium says, and slowly begins to spiral down. He lands with nary an issue, touching down smoothly, and Edith immediately glances towards the house, anxiously peering through the trees to see if anyone has been brave enough to make their way towards them. 

Jane begins to unweave her from her straps, and with each loosening of a buckle, Edith sinks further and further into nerves. 

What is she thinking ? She was so sensible as a child, spending long moments thinking through what actions she could take, what man she should marry. She had waited for Will for years, with only a vague understanding, and now she is carrying off across half the country on a mere whim to feed dragons that she cannot even speak to. 

If it would not be unspeakably rude to ask to return, she would flee before speaking with the staff. 

“You are free at last,” Jane murmurs, rising to stand and holding a hand out. She waits patiently for Edith to place her hand into her awaiting one, before she gently pulls her up. “Excidium?” 

Edith steps carefully onto his awaiting paw and hastens off as soon as she can touch the soft grass. 

“Thank you, Sir Excidium,” she says softly, daring to reach out to pat his face when he lowers his head, the singular eye she can see closing, in what she hopes is delight, as she pats. “That was a most marvelous flight.” 

“I am glad that it agreed with you,” he says, Jane neatly landing next to her with a soft thump as she jumps from his hand. “I look forward to taking you up again.” 

Edith pets him once more before turning to face the aviators. “Shall we?” she asks, her heart in her throat. Catherine gestures her on, and she takes the lead, passing through the oaks that ring their clearing and making her way towards the house. 

The staff is arranged oddly when they emerge from the trees, all of them spread out in a line as if they have a need to protect the house. It's only when Edith gets close enough for them to make out her face that they relax, the majority of them dispersing back onto the porch as the head steward makes his way towards them. 

“Miss Galman,” he greets, keeping his eyes on hers. “We were not expecting you, but we can make up the suite and guest rooms at once, if needed.” 

“Thank you kindly, Mister Davies, but we have no need,” she says, before she turns to Jane and Catherine. “Admiral Roland, Captain Harcourt, this is the esteemed Mister Davies, head steward of the Oak House. Mister Davies, this is the Admiral and Captain of two of the fine dragons who just flew overhead.” 

Davies doesn’t even twitch at her statement, and her faint hope for this endeavor begins to rise as he nods in their direction, before turning back to look at her. 

“As I said, we were not expecting you, Miss Galman,” he says. “But I trust that if you are here, you have business—shall I have the tea parlor set up?” 

She shakes her head slightly and steels herself, glancing up at the small crowd of people still peering curiously at her. “I would have a few answers about the lands and holdings, and then we must be on our way, so long as everything is in shape,” she says slowly, unused to holding the attention of so many at one time. “But, pray tell me, are there dragons who live on our lands?” 

At her question, Davies stiffens, drawing himself up sharply. “We cannot get rid of the beasts,” he says, his tone colder than she expects. “They roost in some of the caves, but have been more than amenable to helping clear logs in return for a cow—I daresay I will have a riot on my hands, if we are supposed to go after them with nothing more than pitchforks and torches.” 

Jane clears her throat, the sound pointed and as if remembering himself, he flushes, stammering something about apologies and her forgiveness and the heat having gone straight to his head, but Edith is too full of glee to care. 

“So you can feed the dragons,” she says, cutting through his words, waving a hand at him when he pauses uncertainly. “I have two more that I was hoping could stay and be fed—I would authorize you fully to be neighborly with the beasts and feed them as you can. Maybe the western fields could be set for them to feed in?” 

At her loud words, a few more people step off the porch, making their way over. One, a younger man with sunburnt cheeks, doesn't even introduce himself before joining the conversation. 

“If you want the flocks to remain healthy, we will probably need the western fields, as they have just finished waiting,” he offers. “The three dragons we speak with, who live in the cave closest to us, are very polite and know a little English, though they mainly speak in an odd chattering noise.” 

“Does it sound much like this?” Catherine asks, before she chirps just as the dragons had. Edith stares at her for a moment. She had no idea the aviators knew the language too. 

The man brightens, nodding. “Just so,” he says, before looking back at Edith. “I apologize, Miss Galman, I have been unspeakably rude—my name is Jonathan Allen, and I am the newest hire for Oak House.” 

Davies clears his throat. “He is our newest head herdsman, since our former one was none too taken with the thought of contorting with the beasts.”

“I did not know that you all had such a close relationship with them,” Edith says. “Bertram had made no note of that in his recounting of the Oak House.” 

Davies shifts under her gaze. “It is a newer thing,” he says. “Begging your pardon, ma'am, for not inquiring if it is acceptable with you, but so close to the border and the mountains, we are more used to the odd feral about than most in cities. It seemed pertinent to make do with what we could, and once we had established a firm line of communication, they were most useful.” 

Edith nods, clasping her hands to her chest. “I shall not accept your apology, because it is a wondrous thing you have done here, Mister Davies. Please do not make haste to apologize for it.” She offers them all a faint smile. “I would only ask that you extend the same welcome to any other ferals who make their way here, and of course, any aviators who stop in.” 

At that thought, she turns to Jane, who arches a brow at her. “Would this suit as a stopping place between London and Loch Laggan?” she asks, unsure if it even makes sense. “I know that it is not too far to cross the island, but if dragons are wearied by it, they could stop and rest for a moment.” 

Jane eyes the land around them, before turning to Davies. “Are we in Northumberland?” she asks, before looking at Allen. “How good are the flocks?” 

“We are, Admiral,” Davies answers. “We are fairly offset from the next major town—Otterburn is to the south and over, just under a few hours by wagon.”

“The flocks are strong,” Allen adds, looking pleased. “We have three hundred sheep, and just over seventy cows, but there is a healthy stock on the way, and we have ties with traders to keep the blood good as well.” 

“And how large are the dragons in the mountains?” Catherine asks, crossing her arms. “If they are to be well fed, your stock could quickly be depleted.” 

“Unless you supplement with grain stores,” Jane says, thoughtfully, peering at the house, as though she can spot the stores through the walls.

“The dragons are small to middling, and we have a cellar full,” a new voice says, and the circle of them split to allow for the woman to step forward. She bobs into a half-curtsey, before continuing, “Our harvest last year was rich, and the fields seem to be growing even faster than before—we have more than enough to supplement the meat with grain, if it's needed.” 

Jane clears her throat, rocking back on her feet. “I shall send someone down to instruct you on the best way to make food, if that is acceptable, Miss Galman?” 

Edith nods, offering everyone a pleased smile. “Please also offer any aviators use of the guest rooms, if they are to spend the night,” she says, before turning to look directly at Davies. “I commend you for your forethought, Mister Davies. Please add a shilling to everyone's pay for this splendid solution—I shall come back and visit with James soon, and we will look forward to the hospitality you have brought.” 

Davies inclines his head, looking vaguely stunned and pleased, but she cannot think it's wasteful if the staff are willing to work with beasts. She's more impressed than she had known she could be, and glances at Jane to see how she's taken the news. 

Jane is already watching her when she looks to her, and Edith straightens her spine, ignoring the way her cheeks feel warm. The sun is exceptionally strong today, so she is sure that there is nothing more to it. 

“If there are any troubles, please send word,” Edith says, looking back at Davies. “And if I find more ferals that I can bring, I shall, so long as we are not too strained for space and guests.” 

“Should we inquire about purchasing more land?” Allen asks, pointing to the north, behind the house. “I believe that there is mountainous terrain available for a small expense, and it could allow for more dragons to arrive.” 

Edith nods, thinking it over. It would be more advantageous to have extra land, and she cannot fathom whyever she should not, especially not with all the gold in her name. 

“I shall trust your judgment,” she says, leaving it in their hands. “I would ask that we do not purchase competitively, and that we do not veer too far towards town, but if there is land that will be used or helpful, I see no reason to not.” 

Allen bows, a grin on his face. “Most excellent,” he says, before bowing even deeper to Jane and Catherine. “By your leave, Admiral, Captain, Miss.” 

Davies dismisses him with a quiet word before he turns back to them, the woman lingering as well. “Is there anything further we can assist you with?” he asks, the two of them hardly waiting for Eidth to say no before they've dismissed themselves from the conversation as well. 

She watches as they head back up to the porch, a low murmur of conversation swelling as they relay the salient points, before she turns to look at Jane and Catherine. 

“Shall we find a cave for the ferals?” she asks, taking care to shove her suddenly shaking hands into her skirts. 

The rush of everything hits her, sweeping her up into a state of wavering strength, and she has never been so grateful for Jane as the other woman neatly escorts her back towards the dragons. 

Even when they arrive, no one speaks, the wind rustling through the trees. 

Edith focuses on her breathing, sucking in one deep breath after another until the sky and trees stop spinning above the rather large sides of the dragons. 

She tugs her arm away from Jane’s gently, offering her a faint smile as thanks, before she smooths her hands over her dress. 

“Well,” she settles on. “I think that went well, did it not?” 

Catherine laughs sharply, and Edith pauses, her eyes growing wide as she peers from one aviator to the other. “Did I cause some offense? Pray tell—I would make amends for any insult given—”

Catherine laughs again, cutting her off, and Jane shakes her head when Edith looks at her in horror. 

“Edith,” Jane says softly, her face aglow, her eyes bright, and her mouth set into a smile. “You have given us a gift that means more than you know.” 

“Oh,” Edith says as her cheeks go up in flames. “Oh, that is—that is very kind of you. I am sure—” 

Jane reaches out, gently capturing her hand from where it rests on her hip, and brings it up to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the back. “We are in your debt,” she says, and though it makes no logical sense, Edith feels as though she is flying again. 

*

Temeraire sniffs as he lands on the ground, frowning at the clearing that Edith is standing in. James hardly waits for Laurence to disembark before he is throwing himself at the man, all sense of polite manners cast to the side. 

“Why it smells as though Excidium nearly lives here,” Temeraire says, tilting his head before he glances at Edith. “Do they come to visit often?” 

Edith nods, reaching out to press a hand to Temeraire's face, smiling when he sighs in faint pleasure as she gently plucks a rock from between two scales. 

“Jane and Excidium have been helping with the feral project I seem to have gotten myself wrapped up in,” she says. “I'm not quite sure how this is their focus so soon after the war, but I cannot be upset with it—not when they are such good company.” 

“ Oh ,” Temeraire says, oddly sounding as though he understands something now. Edith is not quite sure what he has taken from her meaning, but doesn't ask, too aware from Laurence's letters that Temeraire tends to elucidate to an impolite degree. “Well, that is very good,” he says, before he catches sight of what James is wearing. 

“Are those the clothes I asked to be made?” he says, whispering as best he can, as he cranes his head at James, eyeing the dark green velvet lined in gold thread with a gleam in his eyes. “They look splendid , though of course, they are not as splendid as those emerald robes for Laurence, but they are quite close.” 

Edith smiles at him when he looks at her. “I think they are finer clothes than James has ever had,” she says, instead of anything else. She had been ever so surprised, when the gift for James had arrived—according to Laurence, Temeraire had been on an odd sort of purchasing spree, ever since he had found that his money had grown to vast heights. 

She is still not entirely sure why his regard for the two of them is so high, but she's also not so foolish as to argue with him. 

“How has Parliament been?” she asks, as Laurence wanders over, James close at his heels. “Your friend, Perscitia, has always seemed extraordinarily busy when she has arrived here, though it has never been for long. She does not seem to trust couriers to tell the truth of the matters, when I have offered to send word when the feral numbers grow.” 

Temeraire huffs, the exhalation full of annoyance. “Parliament is full of people who do not want to do the right thing and spend ever so long constructing arguments for why they simply must do ill for the good of themselves, and they are never thinking about what dragons want and how they can be helped.” 

“That's cruel,” James says, blinking at him. “Mama has always said that we must do our best to be neighborly with the dragons, and I have made friends with the ones that stop here before they continue onward.” 

Laurence arches an eyebrow at her, as Temeraire and James begin discussing draconic rights, though James is nowhere near as well-read as Temeraire. 

“Stopping here?” Laurence murmurs, as they step away. “I had no idea you were set to become a thoroughfare for dragons.” 

Edith laughs, shaking her head. “My mother is truly in a wretched state about it,” she says, too exhausted at the thought to regret her candor. “You would think that I have taken up with the devil, the way she speaks about the beasts, and it's only the threat of taking myself and James away that stops her from throwing a true fit.” 

“If there is anything I can do,” Laurence says, and she shakes her head, reaching out to set a hand on his arm. 

“Truly, Jane has been a great help,” Edith says, before she ducks her head as her ears start to burn at the slow look of unrepentant glee spreading across Laurence's face.

“She is quite something,” Laurence murmurs, but thankfully lets it go. She is sure that she will get something in a letter, probably with Tharkay's dry scrawl across the back, but she cannot regret her lapse of a facade. 

Jane is quite something, and she's glad that no one seems to think it so odd that they are spending so much time together. 

“Mama, Mister Will,” James calls, waving at them from atop Temeraire, where he has somehow managed to scramble up to. “Temeraire says we can go flying.” 

“Well?” Will says, smiling at her. “Shall we?” 

Edith accepts his hand as if they’re on the dancefloor in front of a crowd, and lets him escort her over to Temeraire's waiting paw.

They ascend, snapping themselves into the harnesses that now seem to make more sense to Edith. It is odd how she now knows how to arrange her skirts just so, and where to hook the carabiners into. She is not so bold as to wear a belt like the aviators, but she has fashioned herself one that has stood up to even Jane's inspection, and still is delicate enough to not cause undue shock in polite company.

“It's a beautiful day to fly,” Temeraire says, his dark wings snapping out, and Edith smiles broadly as Will agrees, closing her eyes as the air rushes around her. 

*

The end of summer is creeping ever closer, and Edith is nearly at her wits' end, as she paces before the small crowd of dragons that are following her every move. She would feel as if a mouse before some great big cats, if they were not quite so darling and small. 

They are James’ favorite thing about her manor, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him yet that they cannot come with them back to London; for one, they don’t have the space, and for two, she is not yet sure if they will return to the city. 

The Oak House has been on her mind increasingly, but it still doesn’t feel quite right to pull James from his friends in the village, not when he has finally made them. 

Though, she pauses, eyeing the beasts who are still watching her, it would not take him from all his friends.

The three Yu-Lungs before her had fled the northern breeding grounds two months ago, in the heat of summer, and though Edith has sent letters to the Aerial Corps headquarters, no one has come to retrieve them, though she’s not sure if Temeraire has had some impact on that. 

Evidently, as far as she understands it, calling them his cousins in an attempt to let them keep their freedom has indeed worked. 

Temeraire has called upon them even more frequently since then, much to the horror of her mother and the delight of James. She thinks she has seen Laurence more these past two months than she had in the whole of their almost engagement. 

“Is this a terrible time?” Tharkay asks, appearing out of nowhere and startling her so badly she screams, stumbling over her feet and into the pile of dragons. Agate, the one whom James named, hisses at Tharkay as she rises from the mess of them, dusting herself off. Neither Yong nor Lemon, both of whom named themselves, seems to care at all. 

“You frightened me,” she says, chidingly, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “Wherever did you come from?”

Tharkay shrugs, a faint smile on his face, before he bows, both to her and the dragons. “I apologize, Miss Galman, to scare you was not my intention.” 

Edith tsks, as she always does when Tenzing persists in formality. “I would be obliged if you called me Edith,” she says, accepting his hand when he offers it to help her from the tangled limbs. “And you still have not answered my query—is everything all right? Nothing has happened to Will, has it?” 

Tharkay shakes his head as she finishes detangling her skirts from talons. As if his appearance is some sign, the Yu-Lungs scatter, heading for the tree they like to roost in, as if oversized birds, though Agate hisses loudly at Tharkay once more. 

“They seem a handful,” Tharkay murmurs, and she narrows her eyes at him when he glances at her. 

She is not in the habit of pressing Tharkay for answers, not when he is so clearly averse to such things—and also because his secrets so clearly belong to Will—but she has also never been sought out by him before. 

She pauses for a moment, frowning as something new occurs to her. “How did you get here?” she asks abruptly, peering over his shoulder for some sign of Temeraire. “Why are you—are you alone?” 

“Laurence and Temeraire dropped me at the front of your walkway,” Tharkay says, and doesn’t offer anything further as she waits. 

She sighs, pressing her lips together. If her newfound love of dragons had not been enough of a sign that she is changing, her willingness to be more and more outspoken would be. Her mother had nearly had a fit when she’d plainly told her no to the suggestion of her remarrying, and their conversations since then have been colder than ever. 

“I would beg a favor,” Tharkay finally says, as she persists in staring at him, even as he looks completely at ease under her perusal. “Will would not say, but he would like to hold a small party in a fortnight or so.” 

“Would not say?” Edith repeats, unable to follow the thread of the conversation. “Whyever not?” 

Tharkay does not glance at her. “He is uncertain of his respectability within certain circles, and within—within our home.” 

Edith pauses for a long moment, the silence stretching between the two of them. It is not the shock of the situation, no, she had expected Will and Tharkay to be very particular friends as soon as she had laid eyes on them—no, it is that Tharkay is saying so. 

She holds onto his arm, maneuvering it so that she is grasping his hand, and lifts it up, pressing her lips to the back of it as gently as she can. 

“I am very pleased to hear it,” she says, quiet and solemn, the moment feeling as if it is spun from glass. She is careful not to be unduly delicate and overtly clumsy with her words. “That you have found a home within each other. To be loved by Will Laurence is a gift, Tenzing, and to be loved by you is equally precious.” 

Tharkay meets her eyes, and offers her a faint smile. “I am gladdened you think so,” he says softly. “We would be delighted if you came to call upon us.” 

“I would not hesitate,” she says immediately. “Where is your estate? Will has been very careful to not let it slip through in his letters.” 

Tharkay grins, his eyes bright. “Why we are only the lands next to the Oak House,” he proclaims as she drops his hand in shock, staring at him. “The ones to the east, with the great—” 

“—plains and river ?” she says loudly, nearly shouting. In the tree, the Yung-Lu’s turn to face the two of them, but she ignores them for now. She can deal with them carrying this news back to the ferals at the Oak House later. “The ones that the ferals have asked to go to time and time again, and the one with the strange house—Tharkay, do you mean to tell me that we have been neighbors this whole time? ” 

His eyes sparkle at her, and she is suddenly sure that this is the trouble that Laurence oft references in his long letters to her. 

She sniffs, biting her tongue to hold back the loud, unbecoming laughter that is threatening to erupt from her. 

“You are a cad ,” she says when she has regained enough control. “See if I shall attend your housewarming party, Mister Tharkay.” 

“Oh, Miss Edith,” Tharkay says cajolingly, his teeth flashing in the sun as he tilts his head and blinks at her mockingly. “But Jane will be there.” 

Her mouth drops open as he tilts his head, and his audacity is so much that she doesn’t even pretend to be sorry, when she stomps on his foot as she stalks past with a toss of her head. 

*

Tharkay's estate is alight with light and laughter, both spilling out across the lawn as her carriage winds its way up the path. 

She spends a moment to be grateful that Davies had been more than happy to watch over James for the night as she makes her way in, feeling oddly out of place with her simple arrival with horses. 

James had only been pacified with the promise of Temeraire visiting the next day, and she had allowed him to sleep in the large porch, tucked in between a puddle of dragons. 

Agate had watched her closely as she had left, and oddly, she feels all the better for James having such a fierce tagalog, despite the strangeness of it being a dragon.

A cry of her name arises from the crowd as she steps through the door, and she pauses as Catherine steps away from her conversation she was having. 

“Oh, Edith, I'm ever so glad you could make it,” she says, her eyes wine-bright already. “I have missed your face and your words and your odd sensibilities about the strangest things—although it does explain some things about Laurence, and how stiff he was at the beginning, although Tharkay knocked him of that quite quickly.” 

“I do not think Tharkay minds the stiffness so,” Edith says, before she realizes just what she has implied. “Do not take that—” 

“Did you just make a lascivious joke?” Catherine asks, laughing as she twitches her braid over her shoulder. “Oh, Jane will be so upset to have missed that—I must go find her, and tell her—” she hardly pauses, pressing two kisses to her cheeks, before she disappears further into the house. 

“Pardon me, ma'am,” a voice sounds from behind her, and she steps out of the way, suddenly unsure about where she should go. “I apologize—Miss Galman?”

Edith turns, blinking in vague surprise at the sight of Ferris standing in the doorway. 

“Mister Henry Ferris?” she says, frowning at him. “I—your brother's told Bertram you were missing.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, his face creasing into an odd half-grimace. “They were not pleased with Laurence after the—” he gestures oddly, as if to encompass the whole of treason. “And I suspect that they did not chase after me when I tracked him down in Terra Australis.” 

“But you are well now?” Edith asks. She has never enjoyed the company of the elder Ferris brothers, the few times she had met them, but their younger had been a frequent topic of conversation, sentenced to the dragons as he was, before all discussion of him had abruptly stopped after the treason. 

He smiles at her, nodding. “I have been Captained for a Prussian dragon,” he says proudly, flaunting his green jacket. “I liaise between Prussian command and ours now.”

“How excellent,” Edith says, scrambling for more to say. “Have you traveled between London and Loch Laggan much?” 

“I have,” he says. “And I would be remiss if I did not thank you for the shelter you have provided dragons—your name is one that comes up most frequently at the covert.” 

Edith flushes, waving a hand at him. “I did as anyone would,” she says, ignoring the way he's shaking his head. “It is no trouble.” 

Ferris fixes her with an odd look. “That is not how the Admiral tells it,” he says. “She says that you—” He cuts himself off, catching sight of something over her shoulder. 

Edith turns, unsure of what to expect, only to still as she nearly stumbles over Jane as she twists in her heavy skirts.

“Admiral,” Ferris says quietly. “Miss Galman.” He pauses before continuing even more quietly. “If you will excuse me—” 

Edith isn't paying attention to him one bit. She stares up at Jane, whose hair is curling at her shoulders, her braid nearly completely undone. It's the only piece of her that appears disheveled; the rest of her as neat and tidy as usual. 

Next to her, though, Edith feels nearly offensively overdressed in her light summer dress, her sleeves down to her wrists. There is always something about Jane that makes her feel as if she has been overcome. 

She reaches out a steady hand to touch the strand of hair dangling over her shoulder, only to be caught by Jane's warm palm. 

“Edith,” Jane says, and the sound of her name from Jane's mouth nearly undoes her. 

“Yes?” Edith murmurs, as Jane tugs her closer. They are not quite improperly aligned, but the distance between them shrinks with each shift. 

“Would you care to take a spin around Tharkay's gardens?” Jane asks, hardly waiting for her to finish her word.

“I would enjoy that very much,” Edith breathes out, and lets Jane whisk her through the house, the people blurring as they move. She waves to Will at one point and narrows her eyes when Tharkay raises a glass to her, but for the most part, all she can concentrate on is the heat of Jane beside her and the thump of her heart. 

It is a strange thing, to be so aware of someone. 

They break free from the crowd, though Edith thinks it is not truly that large—she's fairly certain that she is just too overwhelmed to make sense of anything. 

The moon is bright in the sky, the stars scattered across the heavens, and faint music can be heard from the fiddles that someone has broken out. 

“That'll be Little,” Jane says, breaking their silence. She tips her head back toward the house, a wry smile on her face. “Granby used to be the best player, but the loss of an arm—” She shrugs, as if that's all there is to say. 

Edith pauses, halting the two of them on the grass that snags at her skirts. 

“Jane Roland,” she says, enunciating her name and steadily as she can before she curtseys as deeply as her knees allow. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my dance card?”

Jane blinks, before a smile appears on her face. “I am two left feet on the floor,” she warns, before bowing deeply. “But, Edith Galman, I would be delighted to dance with you.” 

She offers Edith one hand, her other sliding wing-quick around her waist to settle on the curve of her hip. At this point, Jane has taken her and James up to the air enough times that it should not affect her so, but Edith still shivers at the touch.

They spin together carefully under the heavens, her dress whispering over the grass as each rotation pulls her gently closer and closer to Jane. 

By the time the music has faded, the last strains of music fading into the trees, they are indecently close, Edith's cheek nearly brushing Jane's as her arms linger around her waist, Jane's hands on the small of her back.

She closes her eyes with a faint sigh, a thick blush rolling across her skin as she gently tucks her face into Jane's collarbone. 

“I have enjoyed my time with you,” Edith murmurs, when Jane does not shove her away in horror, made brave by the dark and the quiet. “I would—you have brightened my life and brought me so much joy.” 

Jane's arms tighten, and Edith smiles, pressing it into her skin. 

“You are starlight on wings,” Jane says roughly, before falling silent again.

They hardly move, swaying back and forth to some indistinguishable beat as the stars swirl by overhead. 

Edith wants more, has wanted more for ages, if she is being truthful with herself, but for now, in this moment, she is completely and utterly content. 

*

James is staring at her as she bundles the two of them into thin jackets and out into the brisk fall breeze. 

The manor has fallen into an icy silence, her mother refusing to even speak with her, and her father unwilling to break from his wife. 

James, unfortunately, has been caught in the middle of the madness. She can tell that he is confused, unsure of where he stands, when his grandmother cossets him daily and still refuses to speak to her. 

She has finally come to a decision, one which both Laurence and Temeraire have been truly excited by, but she wants to check one final time with James before she packages their lives up and sends them north. 

It is not done, she knows, but Davies has written of preparing their rooms, and she cannot contain her excitement at the thought of running her own manor. 

They will have to return, of course, for engagements and holidays, but much of her life will be full of her choosings—which is novel indeed. 

“Mama?” James asks when they're out of sight of the house. Agate is trotting after them, as Lemon and Yong tussle overhead. “Are you unhappy?” 

Edith halts, pausing to watch as James fidgets beneath her eye. 

“I don't like it here,” he says, the words bursting out of him as if some dam has broken. “Grandmother doesn't like the dragons, and she says odd things about Miss Jane, and cruel things about Mister Will, and she only wants you to remarry, but I don't want that—I want you to stay with me and not send me away and go flying with Miss Jane.” 

“Send you away?” Edith says, frowning. “To where?” 

“To boarding school,” James cries. “Far away from Agate and Temeraire and out of the manor so that I may become a better man than I am now—Grandmother has told me of the plans, and I do not care if it makes me a bad person, I do not want to go.” 

“I have no plans to send you away,” Edith says slowly, setting her hand down on the back of his head when he flings himself into her skirts. “I—have you thought this walk was to be about me sending you away?” James nods, and she pauses, anger filling her at the thought of the lies her mother has been filling James’ ear with. 

“You have a place at Eton,” she says carefully, stroking back the curls of his hair from his eyes. “But that is not until you are thirteen—just over five years from now, at the least, if you do not want to go early.” 

“I do not ,” he says decisively. 

“We shall see when we get there,” she murmurs, ignoring the way he shakes his head. “But the rest of it—why I had only brought you out here to see if you would like to go and live at the Oak House, permanently.” 

James pulls back, his eyes wide and round. “You are telling the truth?” he asks carefully, as if she would snatch away his greatest dreams with nary a thought. “We can live with the dragons permanently?” 

Edith smiles, reaching down to cup his chin. “We can, darling,” she says, watching as excitement flits across his face before he attempts to regain his stately appearance. “In fact, we shall next week—I have already arranged with a carriage to take us there, if that’s acceptable.” 

James blinks at her before he beams. “Why, I am ever so excited,” he says, and doesn’t squirm away when she bends down to press a fond kiss to his forehead. He turns away when she draws back, striding over to Agate to begin their plotting, the dragon following along his words easily, even as he remains quiet. 

The cool autumn wind rustles around them, and Edith is abruptly, suddenly glad that this is her life. She would not be nearly so happy, she suspects, if she had not accepted Laurence and Temeraire’s hands in friendship, all those months ago. 

*

“Happy birthday, darling,” Edith murmurs, smiling at James’ bright face illuminated in the warm candlelight. “I have a great many hopes for this year.” 

The rest of the party-goers murmur agreements, but she doesn't hesitate to hold him close when he throws himself into her arms. She knows her time with him—eager to cling to her as he is—is going to draw to a close soon, and she will not see her miss a moment of it. 

“I am glad we've moved here,” he mutters, sounding bashful despite the long conversations they have had over the issue. “Oak House feels more of a home than anywhere else.” 

She chucks him under his chin, smiling when he grins at her. He hasn't been sickly nearly as much since he has begun to scramble about with dragons and other children from the village, but she still worries, and to see him so healthy feels like a blessing she hadn't even known was within her grasp. 

“Eight is a big year,” she says, glancing over at Emily, who scurries over, handing her drink to Demane, who doesn't even glance about, too engrossed in his conversation with Davies. “And Miss Emily and Mister Demane have agreed that you are able to practice with Sir Kulingile when they land in the yard and have the time.”

James gasps, his eyes flying wide, before he turns to Emily, nearly bouncing on his feet. “Truly?” he asks, eyes bright and shining. “I can learn to fly?” 

“When they have the time,” Edith repeats, but lets Emily take over the conversation, leaving the two of them chattering at each other as if they're both children. 

“Miss Galman,” Will murmurs, catching her attention. “If I may have your ear for a moment?” 

She nods, letting him escort her to the side of the room, satisfaction filling her at the thought of how neatly everything is coming together. 

“Jane would like to speak with you,” Will says, and doesn't gloat when her breath catches as Tharkay would have in his haughty way. “I believe she is waiting in the back, away from the rest of us—she did say something about us louts being unhelpfully wretched, but I think that was more directed at Granby and Tharkay than any other.” 

He pauses, gently setting a hand on her arm. 

“I am happy for you,” he says simply. “How odd for us to have found one another after the madness of the past decade, but how wonderful too.” He leans forward to brush a kiss across her forehead. “I hope we are friends forever, Edith Galman.” 

Edith is unashamed of her watering eyes when he pulls back. “To have known you is one of life's deepest pleasures,” she says, smiling at him. “I am grateful for you every day, William Laurence.” 

He beams at her, squeezing her hands once, before letting her go. 

Edith doesn't hesitate, turning on quiet feet and darting down the halls, until she's nearly panting with effort as she takes her final sharp turn and spills out into the backwoods. 

Jane is not alone, Excidium curled up beside her, the two of them talking quietly as she emerges from the house. 

She pauses for a moment, before steeling her nerves and striding over. 

“Edith,” Jane says, smiling broadly at her. The sight of her, content and windswept, hair tied back and her green coat on, nearly robs Edith of all her words as she stares at her in the cool winter moonlight. “I was just about to come find you.” 

“I have a gift for you,” Edith blurts out, all sense of how to do things properly leaving her. “I have owed you both one for quite some time.” 

Excidium perks up, turning his head to watch as she stumbles closer. 

Jane watches her too, only to laugh as Excidium gives up on waiting and urges her along, patting down the grass and brush so she has a path. 

“I thank you, kind sir,” Edith says, as Jane holds out an arm for balance and helps her into the circle of Excidium's arms. 

She doesn't remove her hand, instead letting it drop down to twine with Jane's. 

“Jane,” she says, looking up at the other woman, who doesn't look smug so much as eager . “I have been searching far and wide for a gift for you and your dragon. James and I have spent many a day in the market looking at oddities, and searching for the perfect gift for you both.” She looks up at Jane from beneath her lashes, holding tight to her hand. She feels oddly calm in this moment. “I have commissioned a pavilion in Excidium's name that shall be his permanently, so that no matter the time or place, you both shall always be welcome home.” 

Excidium noses at her, and Edith pats him, not even considering being wary of his long teeth as she was once. 

“I am very pleased to have a home,” he rumbles when she pulls her eyes away from Jane to look at him. “Temeraire makes it sound exciting to have a place that is just yours, rather than a shared one.” 

Edith nods, looking back at Jane. “I have—it would— you are my sunspot on cold days,” she says, fumbling for words. “I find myself bereft without word from you, and every letter sends me cresting into a warm landslide of delight, and damn you, Jane Roland, for being so noble and good and kind —you have undone me with yourself, and I would not have it any other way. The gift I have for you is much the same, though it comes with a hope for a future together, one that will be seen through with care.” She swallows hard, still watching as Jane's face softens in response to her babbling words. 

“I would have you as you are, with your breeches and stern command, with your awful language and the way you trample over every sense of propriety I have ever had—you have made me better , and I can only hope that you will permit yourself to have a home with me.” 

Not a moment, they're quiet, before Jane gently takes her other hand. 

“Edith Galman,” she says, her eyes bright in the moonlight. “You claim that I have made you better, when the reverse is true—you have blown into my life with an odd sense of self and fear of being improper, and you have not let that stop you as you seek to change the world.” Edith flushes but doesn't attempt to argue with her as Jane shakes her head. 

“Being with you is as if I am always aloft,” she says quietly, and Edith can see the truth of the statement in her eyes. “I am never so content than when I am with you, whether it be dashing across the Isle to bring more ferals home to roost or doing nothing more than a circle around the land. You are my home,” she murmurs, bringing up both of her hands to press a kiss to the back of them. “I will not be so foolish as to let your invitation slip into the aether.”

Edith hardly dares breathe as she tips her head back, gazing at Jane. 

“So you will stay?” she asks, her cheeks hurting as her smile grows wide at Jane's nod. “Forever?” 

“Forever,” Jane promises, and beneath the cool light of the full moon, seals her words with a kiss.