“We can't let the humans know of you. This way, no one will question the tapestry anymore. It's preserved as you originally wanted, and the academic community can stop nosing around for the truth.”
She looked up and saw him staring at the tapestry on the museum's wall. Anytime he thought of his sister, he always looked so incredibly sad. “It's a pity the Fates won't let you guys change the past.”
He sighed. “I know. But if we try, they make us pay for it tenfold.”
She hugged him tightly, then pulled back so they could leave.
“Well,” he said, draping his arm over her shoulders as he walked her out of the museum, “tonight's the full moon. Are you ready to go home?”
“Absolutely, Sir Dragon-Knight. But first . . .”
“I know,” he said with a long-suffering sigh, “it's the
Buffy
marathon torture that you always put me through whenever we visit here.”
She laughed. He'd been very patient with her on their infrequent visits to her time period, where she caught up on all her favorite shows. “Actually, I was thinking there is one thing I do miss most when we're in Sussex.”
“And that is?”
“Whipped cream loincloths.”
He arched a brow at that, then smiled a wicked smile that flashed his dimples. “Mmm, my lady, I definitely like the way your mind works.”
“Glad to hear it, because you know what they say?”
“What's that?” he asked as he opened the door for her.
“Be kind to dragonswans, for thou art gorgeous when naked and taste good with Cool Whip.”