Free A Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan

your interest, and I have sympathy for it—believe me, I do! But you cannot ask me to take my wife abroad in this manner. A tour, certainly, going to civilized places, but the mountains of Vystrana are not civilized.
    “You’ve read about it, I know. Try to imagine what you’ve read made real. The peasants there eke out their existence; do you think they will have a comfortable hotel for us to stay in? Servants who are more than local girls hired on for our stay, who—who actually understand how to care for people rather than for sheep? It will not be a pleasant existence, Isabella.”
    “Do you think I care?” I slammed my fork down, heedless of the scene I was making. “I don’t need luxury, Jacob; I don’t need pampering. I’m not afraid of dirt and drafts and—and washing my own clothing. Or yours, for that matter. I could be useful; would it not be advantageous to have someone to make accurate drawings? Think of me as a secretary. I can keep your notes, organize your papers, make certain that you and Lord Hilford have what you need when you go out to observe.”
    Jacob shook his head. “While you sit in the rented cottage, content to be left behind?”
    “I didn’t say I would be content.”
    “And you wouldn’t be. I’d find you out there in boy’s clothes, masquerading as a shepherd, before a fortnight was done.”
    Heat stained my cheeks. It might have been anger, embarrassment, or a little of both. “That is not fair.”
    “I’m just being pragmatic, Isabella. You’ve made headstrong decisions before, and they got you hurt. Don’t ask me to stand by and let you be hurt again.”
    I took a deep, slow breath, hoping it would calm me down. The air caught in my throat, raggedly. I would not cry. Why was I crying?
    “Please,” I repeated, knowing I had said it already, but unable to avoid repeating it. “Please … don’t leave me behind.”
    Silence followed my words. My gaze had drifted downward again, and I could not bear to lift it, to look at him while I said this. “Don’t leave me here alone. You’ll be gone for months, a year perhaps—and what will I do with myself?”
    His answer was gentle. “You have friends. Invite one of them to come stay with you for a time. Or go visit your family; I am sure they would be glad to have you.” A soft sound that might have been a laugh. “Continue your work with sparklings, if it makes you happy.”
    “But it doesn’t ! It isn’t enough. Jacob, please. I don’t blame you for going away so much when I was in my depression, but if you go away for so long, I’ll feel—”
    The words stuck in my mouth. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to enunciate it, to tell him the depth of fear and inadequacy the prospect of his absence created in my heart.
    More silence, while I tried to breathe. Then at last Jacob spoke, in level, almost grim tones.
    “I did not mind when you set out to snare me in Falchester, Isabella. And I did not mind when you put me in Lord Hilford’s path. But I will not let you maneuver me into this one— especially not with that.”
    All desire for tears vanished in a surge of white-hot rage. My gaze snapped up to meet his, and my chair skidded backward on the rug as I stood, palms flat on the table, feet widely braced.
    “Don’t you dare, ” I spat, not caring how loud my voice became. “Don’t you dare accuse me of using this to maneuver you. I spoke my heart, and nothing more. Have you any concept what it feels like, to endure the loss I have? You may not blame me, but others do; whether you think of it this way or not, they whisper that I have failed as your wife. If you leave, what will they say then? How will we feel toward one another, when you come back? Can you promise me it would not create distance between us? And while you’re gone, I will be sitting here, trying to keep myself occupied with frivolity and artifice, an endless round of dances and card games and things I don’t give a