Beth had barely managed to put the majority of her things away before a slight knock heralded a visitor. The housemaid who’d escorted her to her suite had offered to stay should she need anything, but Beth politely refused. Alone in a strange home with people she’d been taught to fear, her emotions were all over the place, not the mention the fact that her flight instincts demanded she flee out the nearest window.

“Come in,” she called and smoothed out the slightly wrinkled cotton t-shirt and yoga pants she’d changed into. Since there was still several hours before dinner, she wanted to get as comfortable as possible and let this newest development settle. Now she wished she’d stayed in her more sophisticated outfit.

She stood in the small entrance-way, back firmly erect, hands clasped loosely in front of her and tried her best to provide the picture of Royal stature in order to greet her unexpected visitor.

She taken aback when an old man wearing a long brown robe pushed through the door pulling a very large book cart behind him. He saw her standing before him and immediately bowed his bald head.

“I’m Henry, the royal librarian and scribe,” he introduced himself and waited for her to respond.

“Please, make yourself comfortable Henry,” Beth invited. “I’m Elizabeth Henderson, but my parents always call me “Beth.”

Henry’s wizened, wrinkled face lit when he rose to look her in the eye. Beth had never met a dragon of his age and wondered just how old he was. The majority of their species showed no physical sign of aging until they were well over a thousand years old. His warm, brown eyes all but disappeared in a tidal wave of wrinkles when he smiled.

“I remember you my dear,” he replied. “Before Wesley and Lance’s father passed on, I was constantly at his side. He was my greatest friend,” Henry bragged and turned to pull the cart further into the room.

“Shall I set this in the sitting room?” he asked and motioned to the adjoining room to the right. Unused to so much room for only herself, Beth didn’t quite know what to do with it. She hadn’t ventured any further than her bedroom or the bathroom. Moving toward the open door of the room in question, she peered in and let out an involuntary squeal of delight.

The room wasn’t as large as her bedroom, but almost. It was filled with plush, inviting furniture in a colorful array of reds, browns and oranges. An open fireplace crackled with a small simmering fire and large, double-paned, floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the far wall. Upon closer inspection, she saw a small balcony just behind the windows and realized they were, in fact, french doors. The wallpaper was a soft, butter yellow and the drapes a chocolate brown.

Her dragon felt more comfortable in here than anywhere else she’d ever been. It was as if the room had been made for her and her alone.

“Should I take that as a yes?” Henry chuckled from where he stood behind her.

Beth blushed and moved aside to allow him room to get the cart through.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I haven’t been in there yet. It’s absolutely breath-taking in there, I don’t think I ever want to leave,” she decreed and followed him across the threshold.

He pushed the cart over to the low-sitting, coffee table and began unloading the contents, handling them as if there were the most valuable treasure in the world.

Curious, Beth moved toward the large chair facing the table and lowered herself into it, moaning when the cushions molded to her body. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until the pillowy softness cocooned her. Her body sagged deeper into the cottony abyss and her eyelids grew heavy with sleep.

“Shall I leave you for a small nap before dinner?” Henry asked softly, his voice jolting Beth back to reality.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m not usually so informal and rude. May I offer you something to drink?” she asked and started to get up. Henry stopped her by placing his gnarled hands on her shoulders.

“No,” he argued. “I’d say you are extremely tired. After all, this is a very stressful situation for all parties involved. I imagine Wesley’s in the weight room right now pumping iron, as he calls it.”

Beth smiled and settled back into the chair.

“I’ll get us some tea and if you feel up to, I’ll show you my favorite piece and you can read for a bit,” Henry offered and reached over to get the phone. He called down to the kitchen for some refreshments and then turned back to sit in the chair opposite hers.

When Beth merely looked at him, Henry chuckled loudly.

“Forgive me,” he said. “Prince Wesley asked me to bring these and sit with you while you read, should you have any questions. If you’d prefer to be left alone, you only have to say so. I completely understand wanting solitude while you read.” He sat back and rested his hands in his lap.

At first, Beth wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but after meeting Henry, she’d grown unexpectedly comfortable in his company and wanted nothing more than to sit with him by the warm fireplace and discuss the writings Wesley asked her to read.

She smiled warmly and leaned toward the books, looking over the covers and in most cases, the protective film covering them. Should saw from the yellowed, cracked paper that they were incredibly old and snatched her hand back at the last minute to keep from touching them.

As a book lover, she knew not to touch the parchment lest the oil from her skin stain it.

“These are quite ancient,” she mused and tilted her head to read the title, Modernism - A New Belief System. Her eyes drifted down to the author’s name and she frowned.

“I’ve never heard of Phillip the Peaceful,” she observed. “Is this the one His Majesty wanted me to read?”

Henry smiled and gave a brief nod of his head. Leaning forward, he reached out and lifted the handmade tome gently in his hands. Caressing the leather worn cover, he smiled fondly as if greeting an old friend after years spent apart.

“Yes,” he finally responded. “This is the complete journal of Phillip the Peaceful as they refer to him. He was indeed a great man and an even greater dragon. If it weren’t for him, our species would have gone extinct many centuries ago.” He pushed it toward her. “I understand you’re a practitioner of the Ancient Ways?” he asked as she took the journal from him.

She nodded her head but couldn’t pull her gaze from the cover of the tome. It wasn’t smooth as she’d first thought, but worn smooth by the passage of time and use. It was actually fashioned out of a reptilian skin, covered in opalescent scales of green hue. The realization hit her hard and she almost tossed it back at Henry in disgust.

The cover had been made from a dragon’s hide.

“Yes, your observation is correct,” Henry answered as if she’d asked a question out loud. “That is dragon hide, in fact, it’s the hide from the very last dragon that Phillip killed in combat. He used it as a reminder of the beliefs he wanted to change and the violence he wanted to end.”

Strangely the explanation made perfect sense. Disgusting, but perfect. It served as an icon to the author. She couldn’t fault him that.

“Well, in that case,” Beth mused. “I suppose I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” Henry chuckled lightly and gave her a quick nod of agreement. Carefully she pulled back and began reading. She briefly asked the Ancients for forgiveness and knew if her parents were here to see her do this, they would have peeled the flesh from her bones as punishment.