I stared at Morrigan as she approached, her expression was a damn near unreadable mask, not that I had much ability to read faces to begin with. A cow? Sure. A woman? Not so lucky, and the girls in town teased me about it more than once. The fact that she was being rather judgmental was only gleaned by her tone when she spoke.

“Four thousand pound.” She said idly, coming to a stop just a few feet in front of me. Her eyes looked me up and down before shifting over to the cage. “It is a rarer wyvern, and for a fully grown adult that would be the going market price.” Her gaze then turned back to me, still unreadable. “You have placed yourself in quite a conundrum.”

I moved one hand into my pocket, the other gesturing… vaguely. It was true, but that didn’t mean I was looking to advertise it either. “Aye, and how much of that did ya hear of my private business?” I didn’t know her from Eve and I certainly didn’t know her better than Wellbrook, one minute of pleasant conversation in a lobby was not enough to make me friendly to someone listening in on my business dealings.

“This is the public stables,” Morrigan replied. “All business here is as public as one hears, and I heard all of it. It was a foolish deal.”

I shifted my stance slightly, glancing over at Crawford who was merely staring at the woman in confusion. Which likely meant this was someone he didn’t recognize. “Regardless, what's it to ya?”

Morrigan pursed her lips, green eyes going over the wyvern in the cage again. “I would make you a deal. I will pay you full price for the wyvern. Which you can use to pay off Wellbrook. The deal has witnesses, so he can’t back out of it, you can then take the rest of the money yourself and use it to rebuild your farm.” She then gestured towards the entrance. “Wellbrook can suffer the consequences of his actions, and you can leave London happily. Doesn’t that sound like a fair deal?”

A chill ran through me, and for a moment I swore my heart stopped beating. Thirty-seven hundred pounds, that would be enough to rebuild the barn and a good dozen more. That kind of money was more than my family had ever owned along its entire history, going back to the first days of the family tree. My eyes looked over to Crawford again, and the man gave me a slight nod. It seems his mind was heading in the same direction mine was.

I then looked back towards the cag-

The beast was staring at me, not at the woman, not at Crawford, not at the tunnel Wellbrook left from. At myself. It didn’t shift, it hardly seemed to breathe… It seemed frightened, and there was still just the faintest twitch to its wings.

I drew in a breath. “What gender is the wyvern?”

“Female,” Crawford replied. “You can tell by the formation of the scales near the tail.”

I nodded, not bothering to see what he was pointing out but believing him regardless. “Then her name is Beithir.”

“Beithir?” Crawford repeated.

“Aye, if ya cut off the head of a snake but don’t separate it from its body it comes back to life. A great legged destructive beast. And this lass is most definitely destructive. Frankly ah like that about ‘er.” I looked back at Morrigan and shook my head. “And ah’m not sellin’ ‘er to some noblewoman that’ll probably treat her the same as that last bastard.”

Morrigan's face turned cross before she let out a deep laugh that echoed in the underground stable. “Do not think to compare me to that… that dry shite! What do ya even plan on doing with the wyvern? Crash it into the other racers or brawlers until they surrender out of pity? Or dew ya plan on doin’ stage shows to entertain the alley children?”

I arched a brow as her tongue took on the touch of Eire. She seemed to have lost all touch of her higher self once she started to laugh. “Ah haven’t thought it that far out, but ah am not giving it back to that bastard. And ah am not giving it back to the first nobleman that comes asking either. I’ll scrounge up the money in some way, but ah don’t like the way things are run in London.” I gestured to the wyvern, and Morrigan’s face was a painting of seriousness once more. “On ma’ farm cattle are a tool, not a pet, but ya don’t treat the animals cruelly. Ah don’t know half of what ya city types use ‘em fer, but maybe ya forgot about the fact they have a brain of their own, aye?”

Silence filled the air after that statement, Crawford’s face was nearly as unreadable as Morrigan’s. The man had been oddly silent this entire conversation, and barring my question about Beithir’s gender had seen fit to allow me to do the majority of the talking, rather odd for what I knew of the man so far.

That observation was quickly pulled away by the slight smile on Morrigan’s face. “I take it you are refusing my offer then?”

“Ah am, ya can take yer deal and stuff it. Ah’m not a particular fan of the London nobility at the moment. Ah’ll keep the wyvern.”

Morrigan nodded. “Then I will offer you a new deal. You can keep the wyvern, and I will teach you how to use it so you can show Wellbrook precisely where he can put his head in his arse.”

“... Pardon?” I said slowly.

“I do not know where you get off insulting me like that, jock. But if you have such a high mind that you can take care of her better than I could, fine. Impress me. My carriage is currently being cleaned, then we can take her to my estate in Dover. I run the wyvern-riding school there after all.”

… Pardon?

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Last short chapter I swear, college has me so damn busy.