The Regere had impossibly light blue eyes. They almost looked like they glowed given his warm, brown complexion and dark hair. They pierced through Nellie, causing her throat to go dry.
“Perenelle,” the Regere said, his voice smooth. He smirked. “I hate to give into the cliche, but… you’ve grown so much.” His eyes snapped to Silas. “When’s supper?”
“Forty-five minutes, sir,” Mrs. Adams piped up.
“Perfect,” the Regere said. “Come along, Morgan.”
A leaf was added to the long dining room table to make extra space. The usual, plain plates were replaced with ones with gold flourishes. Candles were added along the table for more atmosphere.
Nellie had been required to bring her only nice dress to the compound. It was to look the part when they practiced formal occasions. She tried telling herself that this dinner was nothing but practice, but that did not stop the knots in her stomach. Worse, Mrs. Adams put her to the right of the head of the table.
She popped up from her seat along with the others as the Regere and Morgan entered. Her uncle hesitated before continuing on to his seat. Morgan bore a smug look as he happily went to his at the far end of the table next to Mrs. Adams and across from Itzel.
The Regere glanced at them as they all sank into their seats after he sat. “I wasn’t expecting supper to be such a formal affair, Silas,” he said to his left. “I did show up unannounced.”
“True; I was expecting Amias, but I was going to use having a guest for these kids to practice their table manners anyway,” Silas said.
“Glad to be of service,” the Regere murmured. “I’ll leave tomorrow. I thought it time I peruse your recruits.”
She looked up from her steamed carrots, feeling those eyes on her. He was smiling politely. She tried to return it.
“You did get Brue’s freckles,” the Regere said. “Or a fraction of them. She worried about that.”
“About… me having freckles…?”
“She was teased horribly as a girl,” the Regere said. His eyes slid to the rest of the table. “I assume some of you are seventeen now. Which ones?”
“I am, Regere, sir,” Arch blurted out, nearly knocking his glass over in his urgency to answer.
Calix quietly raised his hand.
Nellie was grateful her uncle’s attention was elsewhere. She leaned into the table to get Morgan’s attention, but he was happily chatting with Itzel at the far end. From Nellie’s vantage point, Itzel’s expression was hidden by a sharp triangle of black hair. With the other side of her head shaved nearly to the scalp (Nellie suspected it was a fire related accident and not a fashion choice) there was no effective way to tie her hair back.
Calix was carefully, but eagerly, telling the story of tripping the bigfoot in the dark. He made gestures to Fin and Nellie; Fin leaping at the chance to embellish the night hike. Nellie was trying to ignore the Regere stealing looks her way, trying to now catch Ava’s eye, but failing with Ava searching the table for an extra napkin. Arden’s swollen lip was leaking.
“Perenelle,” the Regere said, “did you enjoy finding that creature?”
“The bigfoot,” Nellie asked. “I guess so. …I never thought about it.”
She squirmed under the Regere’s piercing stare. She pointedly put her attention back on the rest of her pot roast.
“Silas?”
“Regere?”
“Evora mentioned something about the Order of Ferblanc having quite the time with some snarling, winged beast,” the Regere said. “As I understand, there is no Keeper in the immediate area. Or, if there is, the creature is too much.”
“The Order reached out,” Silas asked, frowning.
“Maybe not formally…” He set his utensils aside. “I’ll bring Perenelle with me. Perhaps Willoughby and Dimopoulos too. Give them experience.”
“Yes, please,” Calix and Arch blurted out together.
“It’s undeniably an opportunity for–,” Silas started politely.
“It’s settled then,” the Regere said.
“Nathalie won’t–.”
The Regere stood, and there was a mad scramble as the rest of the table tried to stand, unsure if that was the correct move or not. Morgan stayed seated at the far end, loudly muttering how his father was not royalty and did not need the pomp.
“Morgan,” he said, “don’t stay up too late. Mind the jetlag.”
Nellie’s blue eyes looked up from what was left of her cold dinner, finding Silas. He was holding his broad forehead with his calloused hand, shaking his head back and forth. She always had trouble estimating how old he was, but now she was certain he was older than Nathalie. He very well could have been Granddad’s age.
That brought up the question of how old was Mrs. Adams since she already looked older than Silas at her most chipper.
“Don’t worry, Nellie, I’ll have a talk with the Regere and give Nathalie a call about all this,” Silas said. He rose to his feet. “Mrs. Adams, please, see to the rest.”
Nellie waited until the table settled before slipping from the dining room. Her short, chunky heels clacked on the polished floor as she ran to catch Silas before he met up with the Regere or locked himself in his office to call Nathalie.
“Silas,” she hissed, closing in on him. “Silas, wait!”
He stopped outside his office. He eyed her quizzically, leaving her space to start the conversation.
“It is a good opportunity,” Nellie said, breathing hard. “Tell her that. And that I’ll write letters. And call during the weekly phone time too.”
“Then, you’re fine going with your uncle to find this…” Silas trailed off, frowning. “I’ll have to ask Regere for more details on what this creature is. Snarling with wings doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“Calix and Arch will be there,” Nellie said. “I am dying to see Arch let loose.” She shrugged. “And… Ira never was concerned about the Regere. I think I should spend some time with him.”
The Regere would paint a more intimate picture of Brue. Nellie was not fully sure she wanted all the nitty details of her mother, but she wanted the option to ask. Her uncle was the best person for this, and he could shed more light on why she was now a dragon.
She spent the night tossing and turning. She stayed in bed until light shone through the gap in her curtains. She dressed in jeans, unsure where she would be today. She pulled her backpack from under her bed and left it ready to pack.
The house was eerily still. The sun was up, but it was still too early for more than a lone bird to sing. The floorboards seemed to creak extra loud, especially when she tiptoed past bedrooms.
The Regere stood with his back to her, staring out the large windows in the living room. He wore a silken navy robe over a set of matching pajama pants. His dark hair was messy from sleep.
Nellie teetered on approaching and leaving.
“Good morning, Perenelle.” She jumped, blushing when he turned to her with a smirk. “Sorry I frightened you.”
The Regere did not wear a matching silken navy shirt as she had expected. A worn-to-dark gray Black Sabbath shirt peeked out from the folds of his robe.
“Silas tells me you have a school friend at the compound,” the Regere said conversationally. He chuckled lightly, shutting his cool blue eyes. “I’m not sure what we talk about. It’s a bit awkward.”
Nellie took a seat on one of the plush, leather armchairs opposite of the windows. She scratched at a crack in the leather.
“My father told my uncle not to let you near me,” Nellie mumbled. “I guess he blames you for what happened to Brunhilde…”
“He does. I can’t say that he’s completely wrong to do so.”
She waited for him to elaborate and was strongly reminded of how trying her first conversation with Morgan was. It was a little surprising the head of a secret, international organization was a bad communicator.
“Did you curse her into a dragon,” Nellie asked bluntly.
The Regere snickered, shaking his head. “No, I did not.” He stared at his hands. Then, more to himself, he murmured, “I should’ve been able to stop it. What’s the point of all this power otherwise?”
She searched for something to say to this stranger, but was lost. She had not even known Brue existed half a year ago, let alone this uncle.
Nellie was saved by Morgan stumbling in, his dark hair a mess like his father’s. He also wore a robe over his pajamas, but none of the pieces formed a set with the robe being sage terricloth, the pants red plaid with a rip on the left knee, and the shirt a mustard yellow that had some type of decal that had long been washed off leaving off-white residue.
“Are travel plans set,” Morgan asked, finishing with a yawn.
The Regere glanced at Nellie. “They are,” he said. “Silas was able to contact all guardians for permission and square things away.”
“Oh…,” Morgan said. “Can he add one more? Itzel isn’t near–.”
“Morgan,” the Regere cut off, “before you get ahead of yourself, you aren’t joining us. This excursion is for me to assess and guide–.”
“Nellie gets to go,” Morgan growled.
“Because I don’t know her, and this is–.”
“Oh, but you know me,” Morgan snapped. He glared at his father, then at Nellie. “Fine. Have fun.” He stormed out.
The Regere let loose a long, drawn out groan. Nellie awkwardly studied the crown molding around the ceiling fan.
“The flight is at ten-thirty,” the Regere said. “I’ll meet you at the airport.” He swept from the room, but not after Morgan.
---
It was a short flight—expedited by bypassing security—and a short drive to a blue rectangle of a house full of windows lined with gray shutters. The Chesapeake Bay was just visible in the upstairs windows if Nellie stood on her toes.
She squished her face against the window to better see the ground below. A whoop, muffled by the thick glass, sounded as Arch and Calix ran around like overly stimulated toddlers. A colorful spark shot by her window.
A sharp knock sounded on the pale, wooden door. There was a pause before a slim, petite woman with rosy cheeks and a spiky, grey pixie cut let herself in.
“Tea is downstairs.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Monroe,” Nellie said.
Nellie jumped the last step of the stairs into a modestly decorated foyer. She vaguely wondered if Mrs. Monroe was married. Mrs. Adams did not seem to be despite her name.
The tea was laid out on a polished coffee table. There were bite-sized ham and cheese sandwiches, shortbread cookies, and a pot of tea. She made herself a plate with two sandwiches, three cookies, and poured herself a tea with a sugar cube. She settled near the window.
She was just getting cozy when the Regere walked in. She jumped to her feet, hastily put her sandwich back on the plate, and straightened.
He poured himself a cup and grabbed two cookies without reacting to her. She could have been invisible. He retreated to a corner away from the window, taking up a thin stack of papers left on the wingback chair.
Nellie eased down onto the plush loveseat as she continued to go ignored.
“I won’t say not to be formal,” the Regere said, causing Nellie to spill tea as she startled. “It very well could be a service to you. Stop people thinking you feel entitled due to our connection, unlike a certain boy we both know.” He smirked over the tops of the papers. “When we’re alone, or with family, then all formality, naturally, should be dropped. You are my favorite sister’s only child. That does have a privilege to it.”
“Oh, that’s right, you have another one,” Nellie said, glad there was something they could talk about before diving right into everything involving the Realm. “And a big brother too. Vikram, right?”
“I’m shocked Morgan could tell you his uncle’s name,” the Regere said. “He’s never met the man.” He sipped his tea, his light blue eyes on his papers. “There’s quite the age gap between us.”
Nellie did not feel the need to tell her uncle that Uncle Winston was the one who gave away the Regere’s name that led her to browse the internet and discover her family tree. Uncle Winston would be aghast that she was sitting there speaking to this man. It was best to keep those two completely separate.
“Morgan said Grandfather Agarwal didn’t like him,” Nellie said.
“He doesn’t,” the Regere said. “Nor me.”
“...What about Brue?”
“Indifference.”
“But, why,” Nellie asked. “He’s your dad. That means something, doesn’t it?”
The idea that her mother had a full, complete, intact family but was alone built a lump in her throat. The fact her father left her flittered into her mind.
“You seem troubled,” the Regere murmured. “Uncomfortable with all this father talk?”
She glared at him as her sadness was instantly switched with fury. She shrunk as his eyes snapped to her.
“Your father loved you,” he said. “He didn’t leave because of dislike or indifference, or whatever reason you have swirling in your head. It truly was because he thought he could bring Brue back to you.” He returned to his papers. “Perhaps we should arrange a visit….”
She felt like someone threw ice water in her face. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Y-you know where he is?”
“More or less,” the Regere said nonchalantly, keeping most of his focus on his papers. “Two or three steps behind, I should say.” He set his papers aside and frowned at his cold cup of tea. “To this creature first.”
-----------------------
I should pop into HeroForge and try to make Brecken. I was trying to find a good descriptor for his eyes other than 'light blue' or 'pale blue' and was coming up blank. It would need to be something Nellie knows since she's the POV.
Any guess on what this cryptid could be?