Pain ripped through my body, setting my bones alight and searing my skin. I screamed. Was this how Fyrian felt? My breath came in shallow pants. My pulse roared between my ears, and my teeth chattered so hard, they drowned out the General’s shouts.
Somehow, I’d managed to mess up the dragon quest. I gasped, the skinless hands on my lap shaking.
“Stop scaring the poor child.” Dr. Duclair flew into the room with a wooden rack of jangling vials. “We’ve finished making magical suppressants for your unique physiology. Take one now to dampen your connection, while I see to what we can do about fixing these runes.”
“T-thank you.”
She set them down on the side table and uncorked a vial, releasing a cloud of white dust. “Well, anything that affects you also affects Fyrian. Right now, any anxiety on your part will upset her ability to fight the clearscale.”
Hope warmed my heart. “So, she’s recovering?”
“We don’t know yet, as the first dragon who fell ill is still struggling.” She waved the vial under my nose. “Drink up.”
Without sniffing the medicine, I downed it in one swallow and grimaced. Although the worst of the agony disappeared, a chalky, metallic taste lingered on my tongue. “What was in it?”
Her nose twitched, and she flew over to General Thornicroft and brushed dust off his shoulder. “It’s best you don’t ask, dear. Do what Raffy says, and you’ll learn to fix your bonds with Fyrian.”
I blinked. Raffy?
“Thank you, Doctor.” The General waved the witch away like she was an annoying insect, but she darted out of reach.
Running a shaky hand through my sweat-dampened hair, I asked, “How many more of these incidents do I need to battle until I get rid of this?”
“As many as it takes for your skin to turn opaque without the use of magical suppressants.” He held out a hand, and Dr. Duclair reached into her cloak and pulled out a piece of magnolia bark carved in the shape of a crescent moon.
I squinted at the complicated runes carved into the thin wood. “A dream-horn?”
“Place this under your pillow.” She dropped it onto my lap. “It will help you stay lucid in your dreams.
General Thornicroft grunted. “If any memories resurface in your sleep, defeat your enemies.”
“Will that fix my bond?” I asked.
“No. Until you resolve that incident in the woods, your mind will remain full of holes.”
Pushing away the image of hollow cheese, I sighed. “Can we try the dragon quest tomorrow?”
“If you survive that long.” He winked.
“Oh!” Dr. Duclair whacked him on the shoulder. “Your bedside manner is terrible.” She turned to me. “Don’t listen to him. I’ll have someone come in and fix the wall, and you’ll be free to recuperate in your own time.”
She gave me a jaunty wave and flew towards the exit, pulling General Thornicroft out by the ear.
At a time like this, Fyrian would have asked if she thought they were courting then we’d talk about their difference in size. Fyrian would share whatever she’d learned about General Thornicroft or Dr. Duclair, and I’d marvel at my amazing bondmate.
But Fyrian was silent now, suffering from a painful condition that was possibly deadly. If I didn’t recover and find the cause of this clearscale, I might never see or hear her again. Spirits sinking, I slid under the covers into my nest of pillows.
A lump formed in my throat. The sooner I defeated those alchemists and transformed my mind from hollow cheese into a cloudy moon, the sooner I could get out and uncover who was behind the plague of dragons.
“Fyri, are you there?”
She didn’t answer. My poor dragon was probably so exhausted from suffering those wracking pains all day.
I squeezed my eyes shut. This time, my eyelids provided some barrier against the light. If a supercharged King Magnar appeared in my dragon quest, I would dream up a Parched Sword and attack his fairy-enchanted armor all over again.
Footsteps sounded in my room, and I opened my eyes. Two witches holding massive leather tomes stood in front of the cracked wall. The smaller of the pair had familiar shoulder-length, chestnut hair.
“Evolene?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
She turned around, eyes widening. “Oh! Dr. Duclair told Taricha to come inside and fix the runes. Stafford was at the duel, so I came here.”
My brows rose. “Duel?”
“Niger verses the captain of the riders’ drogott team.”
The other witch pulled at Evolene’s arm. “We’re not supposed to stare at the disfigured patient!”
I rolled my eyes. “Evolene’s my friend.”
“Did you hear?” said Evolene. “Master Fosco and all the others have turned into dragons and—”
A heavy knock made the door vibrate. I sat upright and pulled the covers to my chin. “Hello?”
The door swung open, revealing a bulky, hooded figure at the threshold. “Good evening, Cadet Bluford.”
Both witches dropped their books and squeaked.
My heart jumped into the back of my throat. It was Master Jesper, the troll! “What do you want?”
“I hear on the vine that you’ve succumbed to clearscale.” It stepped into the room.
“It’s just a faulty mental connection. General Thornicroft and Dr. Duclair are helping me.”
Master Jesper stepped forward, eyeing my exposed arms. “Then how do you explain the transparency of your skin unless you are some kind of dragon hybrid?”
“I’m not. Can you please leave my room?”
“Whatever is wrong?”
“Bluford didn’t invite you here!” Evolene balled her fists.
“Of course not.” Master Jesper raised its massive shoulders. “However, clearscale is a fascinating condition. To have it affect a dragon is a curiosity, but a mammal? Now, that is a one-in-a-millennium occurrence that requires study and documentation.”
“But not by you!” I snarled.
Master Jesper tilted its head to the side. “I am sensing some hostility. Do you not like trolls?”
“I don’t like alchemists!”
It clasped its hands together. “Why, alchemy is just like any other vocation. Good and bad people join our ranks, just as there are good and bad dragon riders.”
“I’m training to be a mage!” I snapped.
The troll’s eyes widened, and its breathing quickened. “Then you have the magical ability to channel dragon flames.”
A breath caught in my throat, and my insides stilled. The threat in that comment was obvious to anyone who knew Master Jesper’s war crimes. If my Parched Sword lay within reach, and I hadn’t taken that magical suppressant, I would have jumped out of bed to defend myself. Instead, I sent the witches a pleading look.
The other witch edged towards the door. When she left, and the door clicked shut behind her, I exhaled. Hopefully, General Thornicroft or one of the more powerful witches would be around to chase the troll away.
“I-I didn’t say I was an actual mage.”
Master Jesper smirked. “Nobody enters that academy without the aptitude for dragon magic.”
My throat turned as dry as parchment. How could I have made myself more attractive to the very creature who had developed the alchemical technology to extract a being’s magic?
“Why don’t you just leave?” I tried to keep the tremor out of my voice.
“You’re afraid,” it said in tones as soft as spider silk.
“G-go away!” Evolene pointed her staff at Master Jesper.
The troll raised its palms. “But I only wish to help.”
The door burst open, and Stafford barreled into the room, followed by Rufus, Gobi, Niger and a few others from the drogott team. They brought with them the scents of barbacoa and strong ale I recognized from my duel with King Magnar. Judging by the bruising on Niger’s eye and his disheveled hair, he’d just returned from his duel. The wide grin and cocky swagger told me he had won.
“Sorry, Albert!” said Stafford. “I tried to stop them, saying that you didn’t need a bunch of oafs gaping at your transparent skin, but they overpowered me.
Relief washed through my insides like a flood over the Boreal Desert. “Oh, thank the Known World you’re here!”
“What’s wrong, Bluford?” Rufus narrowed his eyes.
“This troll won’t go away!”
Niger and his two friends stiffened. “Why are you bothering the Prince?”
“Prince?” The troll cocked its head.
My insides cringed. Master Jesper was just the pedantic type to tell them that I couldn’t possibly be a Prince because I wasn’t even male.
“Yeah.” Niger pulled back his shoulders and scowled. “In this brotherhood, we take care of our own.
“Brotherhood.” It raised hairless brows.
“Just get out!” I shouted.
Master Jesper inclined his head. “Very well, I will take my leave, Cadet Bluford. However, we will talk soon.”
At the growls of all the half-ogres, the troll backed out of the room.
“Are you all right?” Stafford rushed to Evolene’s side.
“Did it try anything?” asked Niger.
“I’m fine. Thanks, everyone. That alchemist looked ready to experiment on me!”
Niger reached out to poke my cheek, but Rufus held his wrist and scowled.
“It’s not contagious,” I said. “Fyrian’s clearscale symptoms are seeping into my bond. Once I’ve learned how to seal my mind, they’ll go away.”
Niger nodded. “What did Master Jesper want?”
Running my hands through my hair, I let out a tired sigh. “It was fascinated because it thought I’d caught the dragon plague. Maybe it wanted a sample of my magic.”
Rufus curled his lip. “Almost every Noble House in Steppe has lost witches to the Snow Queen and her trolls.”
I nodded. Many Bluebeard witches served in the Magical Militia. A few had died during that war, too.
“Evolene and I will guard your room, so you can get a rest,” said Stafford. “Who’s with me?”
Evolene flushed and ducked her head.
Niger gave him a thumbs up. “We will return in four hours to relieve you.”
Rufus grunted. “Gobi and I will come before breakfast.”
Warmth spread across my chest. Even if my skin was transparent and made me look like a talking carcass, I still had good friends in the brotherhood. In the morning, when I failed to attend King Magnar’s forced marriage, he would reveal my secret. I only hoped my friends would forgive me when they discovered the truth.
Chapter 9
That night, long-forgotten memories resurfaced through my dreams. Most involved my fear of flying insects, and I found myself slashing through lines of honeybees, domes of locusts, and a hive of king hornets. The scene where the Witch Matron called me into her office and labeled me magically inept also played out, but now that I had proven myself a capable dragon mage, the rejection no longer stung.
After setting my apprentice wand alight, I walked out to the courtyard of the Magical Militia compound.
“Have they finally kicked you out?” asked the blue-haired sister from the first incident. “It’s about time!”
I pointed my finger at her ankles and set the hem of her cloak alight.
She shrieked and dropped her staff. “What are you doing?”
“Roasting a swine.”
She flapped about, trying to stamp out the flames. “You savage!”
“You’re the one who talked about eating people. I thought I’d get to you first.”
Her older sister rushed out of the double doors, sapphire hair flying like a cloak and brandishing her staff. She shot a jet of water at me, and I raised my palm, turning it into vapor.
The witch’s hair frizzed, making her look like a blue sheep. “How are you doing this? You have no magic!”
I smirked. This was turning out to be a great dream. In the blink of an eye, I found myself walking through the palace hallways, ignoring the servants’ curious looks.
This time, Oliveri greeted me with a curt bow. “Princess Alba, it is good to see you. Her Majesty and the Witch General are in desperate need of your help!”
I inclined my head. “Thank you, that will be all.”
Before he could reply, I walked through the hallway, head high and with one hand on the hilt of my Parched Sword.
The two Queen’s Guardsmen at the door to Aunt Cendrilla’s office crossed their halberds. With a wave of my hand, I melted their blades.
“Her Majesty awaits me,” I said in my haughtiest voice.
My insides thrummed with excitement. Would Aunt Cendrilla be proud of the person I had become, or would she still see me as a child? When I opened the door, there was no Queen, no Witch General, and no furniture except for two thrones: one gold and one silver.
Sitting on the golden throne was a portrait of the fairy-enhanced version of King Magnar. “Welcome, Queen Alba, to the new headquarters of the Savannah Empire.”
A spriggan stepped out from behind the gold throne. Rheum glistened from its huge eyes, and it grinned, revealing a mouth full of overlong, yellow teeth. “Shall we feast on the hatchling now or later?”
“No!” I shrieked.
A loud crash broke me out of the nightmare. I bolted upright, heart thudding. Blinding, white light filled my vision, and I knocked the burning dream-horn to the floor. Had I just foretold King Magnar’s secret plans?
“Look at what you made me do!” screeched an irritating voice.
“What? Sorry.” I rubbed my eyes.
Roseate pointed her staff at a broken bowl of porridge on the ground and reformed the pieces. Then she levitated the porridge and put it back in the bowl. “I’ll return in a minute with another breakfast.”
I rolled my eyes. The Roseate who had trapped Ivan and me in the back of the Fornax Flying Float with a crate of angry king hornets would probably stand outside the door for five minutes and hand me the exact bowl of porridge that had spilled.
Dr. Duclair glided in, her feet a yard off the floor. “Good morning! How are you feeling, dear?”
“Better.” I rolled my shoulders and glanced at my hands. My skin had the transparency of diluted milk, which was an improvement on it being invisible. “When do you think I’ll be able to leave?”
“If your mind barrier has strengthened, and you promise to take your magical suppressant, I might discharge you today. Is it all right if I take off your you-know-what?”
I gulped, stomach tensing. “W-why?”
She raised her staff, erecting a privacy screen around the room. “Don’t worry. No-one but me will see you.”
My insides relaxed. “All right.”
The doctor pointed her staff at me and bathed me in white light. Long, platinum hair tumbled down my shoulders, and I glanced at the window. It was hard to tell, but I thought I glimpsed a blond head disappearing out of sight.
Dr. Duclair turned around my forearm, placing cool, little fingers on my pulse. The tip of her staff glowed white and then yellow. “Hmmm… You’ve made decent progress overnight, but it would be best if you stayed another day for General Thornicroft to guide you through another dragon quest.”
“But I feel fine!”
“And look frightful enough to cause wide scale panic.” She flew back, pursing her lips. “Have you taken a magical suppressant this morning?”
“Um... Not yet.” I grabbed a vial from the side table, uncorked it with my teeth and downed its contents. The chalky, metallic taste spread across my tongue, and I tried not to grimace. “Can’t I just finish off the treatment in my room if I’m not contagious?”
“Why the rush to leave? Classes are canceled, now that the dragons are ill.”
I shrugged. “Master Jesper came to my room last night, wanting to study me.”
Her face paled, and her lips formed a tight line. “Did it indeed?” She flicked her staff, restoring my glam
or, then snapped off the privacy spell. “I will be having words with General Thornicroft!”
The door slammed open, and she flew out of the room.
I threw back my head and blew out a frustrated breath. The longer the culprit had access to sick dragons, the more damage he or it could do. All the masters were stuck in their alternative form and suffering the effects of clearscale. The witches were too busy taking care of the sick dragons. Someone needed to step in and investigate.
Roseate walked in with a bowl of porridge on a tray. “I brought your breakfast.”
I raised my brows at the gloopy mixture. There was no point in asking her if this was the same bowl from before. The lack of steam on the porridge told me everything I needed to know.
“Thanks,” I said. “But all this talk of the dragon plague has killed my appetite. You can have it if you want.”
“How kind.” Her face darkened. “I’ll leave it here in case you change your mind.” Then she placed it on the side table and stormed out of the room.
I rubbed my eyes. She was just like some of the witches I’d met at the Magical Militia Academy. It wouldn’t surprise me if she hadn’t gotten herself kicked out for cursing someone.
A soft knock on the door made me raise my head.
“May I come in?” asked a haughty voice.
“No.”
King Magnar strolled in, holding a knapsack to his chest. His brows drew together in a feigned expression of worry. “Good morning.”
I scowled. The politeness was probably a ploy to keep me unsuspecting until Master Roopal reverted back to perform the forced marriage. “Why haven’t you fallen off the side of the mountain yet?”
“Someone told me you were turning into a dragon. I had to see for myself.”
I glowered down at my normal-looking hands and snarled. If only I’d delayed taking that magical suppressant! “You’ll have to call off your plans and leave Mount Fornax. I have clearscale.”
“You look fine to me.”
“It’s my dragon form that has the transparent scales. Leave before you catch the highly contagious plague and become afflicted.”
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