Onyx's head emerged from the blanket. He chirped once, bright and questioning, checking on his person.
"I am fine," Bellatrix said. She picked him up. Settled him on her lap. His purring resumed immediately, the relief of a dragon whose person had returned and whose person smelled like violence and victory. "There was a man. There was smoke. The man is asleep now. We are leaving."
Avalon emerged from his blanket, looked at Bellatrix, and climbed into her lap beside Onyx.
The dragon who had been too shy to approach the orphan children without a palm introduction had just voluntarily climbed into the lap of a woman who smelled like she had recently mauled a person, and the climbing was the climbing of a creature who had chosen his pack and his pack was a queen and a tuxedoed dragon and an attendant with blankets.
Bellatrix looked down at two baby dragons in her lap.
"Petra."
"Your Grace."
