The young dragon sprawled lazily across the plush sofa, his dragon claws shielding her eyes, the very sight before him too much to bear. Her guardian had come with grand intentions, declaring himself to be a spiritual guide to the girl sitting before him. Yet here he was, now a mere heir to a pile of gold coins.
"Rid yourself of that pungent scent of dragon malice," she mused to herself. "If it's really gold coins you're after, wait until I ascend to the throne. I'll make you heir to my royal allowance. Would that suffice?"
Opposite him, Joanna remained silent, unperturbed by the dragon Lance's claim.
The mood darkened with the memory of Butler Brandon's demise. As Brandon's mentor, one would expect Lance to be steeped in grief, yet here he was, jesting. Could this creature truly have been Brandon's mentor?
If not, how could he know the private agreements made with the butler or even Joanna's childhood secrets?