Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  She gave us a broad smile. “The Witch General says you may visit Evolene on the condition that you don’t bother the Magistratus about her.”

  “We can’t do that,” I replied.

  Stafford pulled me to one side. “What are you doing?”

  “Can’t you see?” I whispered. “They don’t want me to speak to the Magistratus. That means he’ll probably order Evolene to be released.”

  “He won’t,” said Stafford.

  I put my hands on my hips. “How can you be so sure?”

  “He didn’t help Fyrian, did he?”

  “That was diff—”

  “It’s not!” Stafford balled his fists. “People like him don’t care about the little people like Evolene and me. He’ll probably just listen to you to be polite and just say no.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Let’s take the chance to see Evolene,” he whispered. “Maybe when we get there, we can pick up some clues on how to rescue her.”

  My face tightened into what I hoped was an expressionless mask. Stafford was letting his emotions take over his good sense. If the Witch General wanted us to stay away from the Magistratus, it had to be because she feared he would overturn her decision. I just needed to let Stafford understand this.

  I sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “Why don’t we—”

  “No,” he snapped. “I always let you have your way, but not this time. Evolene’s better friends with me than you, and I’m the one who’s courting her. We do things my way.” He walked around me and addressed Xeraphine. “Thanks. How soon can we go and see her?”

  I spun. “Wait! We haven’t finished discussing things yet.”

  The green-haired cadet wrung her hands. “Actually, I was told not to take no for an answer.” She turned to Stafford. “You can go as soon as you like.”

  I clenched my teeth and balled my fists. What was wrong with him?

  “Are you coming?” he asked in a tone that told me he would go without me if I said no.

  “Let me call Fyrian.”

  “Ummm…” said Xeraphine.

  Huffing, I tilted my head to the side. “What now?”

  “General Shipton said you may not approach the Magical Militia on dragon back.”

  “Why not?” I said a little sharper than necessary. This cadet was just the messenger. “Sorry… I just need to know why.”

  “She didn’t say. But you can take the Fornax Flying Float after classes if you like.”

  I could barely look at Stafford at lunchtime, and he stared ahead, eating a yeoman’s lunch consisting of a giant slab of salted boar, artery cheese, wildebeest tomatoes, and pickles served on a plate-sized slice of rye bread. Gobi kept glancing from Stafford to me, asking questions about why we weren’t talking, but neither of us answered him. I ate my beef and ale stew in silence, reflecting on Stafford’s words. Did I really tell him what to do all the time? I thought we were more equal than that.

  “You’re a bit bossy,” said Fyrian, “But that’s because you’re an only child. When I was a hatchling, there was no such thing as a leader.”

  “I thought they couldn’t even open their eyes.”

  She snorted. “All right, bad example. Brendan and Robert are more equal, even though Brendan’s the oldest and the heir.”

  “So, I’m bossier than the Crown Prince of the United Kingdom of Seven?”

  “I thought that’s what I said.”

  I gulped down a mouthful of tender beef and snuck a glance at Stafford. He chewed on his bread-cheese-and-meat concoction with a mulish expression that told me he wouldn’t back down on his decision to see Evolene instead of petitioning the Magistratus. I let out a long, tired breath. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice now. The decision had been made.

  “Stafford?” I asked.

  He turned, hazel eyes wide. “Huh?”

  “Let’s see if we can book the Fornax Flying Float so it can take us straight after Swordsmanship class.”

  He grinned. “All right.”

  I smiled back.

  “See? It’s not so difficult to back down, is it?” said Fyrian.

  I ignored her. This wasn’t backing down. It was me trying to make the best of a bad situation. If we didn’t collect any clues to help us rescue Evolene, Stafford would regret not having listened to me.

  “It’s not fair,” said Fyrian. “You should have insisted I be allowed into the Magical Militia. I wanted to check on Evolene, too.”

  I reached across the table, picked up a slice of wheat bread and dunked it in my stew. Gobi made a noise of protest, but I ignored him. Eyepatch had placed the bread in the middle of the table for all of us. “The opportunity to speak to the Magistratus was more pressing at the time. It didn’t occur to me to argue over minor things.”

  Fyrian let out a smoky splutter. “Minor?”

  “Well, you can see through my eyes, can’t you?”

  After several moments, Fyrian said, “I suppose you’re right.”

  I glanced around the mess hall for signs of Niger. Virens, the green-eyed Griffon brother who shaved the sides of his head sat a few tables away with one of the cadets who had flown to the locust-infested capital with us. He gave me a thumbs up, and I flicked my head in acknowledgment.

  Sitting at the table next to them were the first-year riders. One of them nudged Muti, who stopped eating and raised his brows in question. He was probably asking whether I’d made up my mind about storming the Magical Militia. I mouthed, ‘not yet,’ and he gave me a narrow-eyed nod.

  My gaze flickered back to my stew. “What’s happening now at the trial?”

  “All these witnesses are coming forward, saying how they made fools of themselves because of King Magnar.”

  “Has he spoken yet?” I asked.

  “He hasn’t even raised his head. He’s still breathing, though.”

  I pushed aside thoughts of the wretch who had nearly forced me into a life of marital and military servitude. Right now, I needed to concentrate on helping Evolene. Even if we weren’t doing things my way, I had to stay alert and grab any opportunity I could to save her.

  After Swordsmanship class, we walked through the terraces toward the reception area. A thin layer of clouds covered the sky, shielding us from the late afternoon sun. I hoped the weather witches had created a new weathervane because the one I had exploded had clearly malfunctioned before I fed it the antidote to the loyalty elixir.

  Stafford stared into the empty stalls. “Something good must be happening in the arena. All the dragons have gone.”

  “They’ve brought in witnesses to give evidence on how they were wronged by King Magnar.”

  Stafford activated the pale stair stone sticking out of the grass and took the steps two at a time. Halfway up, he turned around. “I wonder why you weren’t called to testify?”

  I jogged up after him. “The Prince Regent probably intervened.”

  “I suppose so.” He continued up the stairs, which led to the reception building.

  As soon as we passed through the archway, I spotted the Fornax Flying Float. Roseate stepped out from behind the vehicle and wrinkled her nose.

  My feet went to an abrupt stop. I muttered, “What’s she doing here?”

  “Hurry up,” she snapped. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon.”

  “We arranged with Xeraphine to travel after classes.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Are you getting on the float, or will you stand around making excuses all night?”

  I clenched my teeth. Roseate reminded me of every nasty witch I’d encountered during my time at the Magical Militia Academy. Argumentative, judgmental, and quick to find fault.

  “Come on, Albert,” said Stafford. “She’s doing us a favor.”

  Roseate’s pinched features twisted into a smirk, and she leaned against the float and folded her arms like she’d scored a massive victory. My fingers twitched. How I wished I could shove that expression off her face with a few choice words. But I h
eld my tongue. We needed her to make the journey into the capital.

  I traced my fingers over the pommel of my parched sword. “If there’s any strange cargo in the back, I’m slicing through your partition, so we can experience its effect together.”

  We stepped inside, and a magical barrier slid between the passenger and cargo sections. I sat on the hard seat and folded my arms across my chest. Roseate had probably placed something nefarious in the back but changed her mind about using it to torture us.

  Roseate placed the crystal end of her staff into a receptacle in the dashboard, making the float’s wings spread out. They were made of a black membrane stretched over bone-like spokes and reminded me of the wings of a dragon. With one almighty flap, the vehicle rose off the ground and over the reception building.

  Stafford clenched both hands so hard, his knuckles turned white. “How am I going to face Evolene? I should have rescued her by now.”

  I placed my hands over his. “Don’t think of it like that. You tried your best to get her free.”

  “It’s not good enough.” He shook his head. “We should use every volunteer and every weapon we have to stage a jailbreak.”

  “Not without a plan or magical firepower.”

  I stared out of the window, trying to think of a way to phrase things to break through his haze of despair. By now, the float flew above terraces that stretched out the entire length of the mountain. Some contained orchards, others contained single crops, and a few lower down consisted entirely of water.

  Mount Fornax was a wonder, and Stafford’s rash actions were putting his ability to stay here at risk. If he allowed himself to get caught by the witches again, he would not return to the mountain in one piece.

  Squeezing his hands, I murmured, “Think it through. We haven’t got anything to counter their magic, and even if we managed to steal Evolene away, where would we put her? She’d be a fugitive for the rest of her life.”

  “Mount Bluebeard,” he replied.

  “The witches know we’re friends. That’s the first place they’d look.” I raised a shoulder. “Somehow, I can’t see Father providing her with refuge.”

  “Why not?”

  I told him the story of how Evolene’s father and grandfather both killed different Lord Bluebeards, and how Father believed that she might make an attempt on his life.

  Stafford pulled his hands away and shook his head. “She isn’t like that.”

  “That’s what I said.” I leaned back in my seat. “Being a witch makes her all the more dangerous. Father did execute Ivan… sorry, Jack Galloway, with his Sword of Lightning.”

  HISS!

  I narrowed my eyes. The sound came from behind the barrier to the cargo area. It was too continuous to be a rattlesnake and too loud to be a punctured bladder.

  “Albert?” said Stafford.

  “Huh?” I kept my eye on the barrier which remained intact.

  “What if Evolene made a boon never to hurt a Bluebeard in exchange for a place to stay?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “The answer would still be no. He doesn’t know her the way we do. The first time they met, she’d just helped her father kidnap me for ransom.”

  He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I spoke first. “I know she was forced. But Father will never understand how a human could get a witch to do anything against her will. Especially when there are plenty of witches around to help her.”

  Stafford sagged. “Things look bleak.”

  I gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “We’ll work something out. I promise.”

  The hissing stopped, and we spent the rest of our journey in silence. As much as I was looking forward to letting Evolene know we were trying our best to help her, a lead ball of dread rolled around in my stomach. Like I said to Stafford, we needed a plan, and my mind was blank. In my time as a cadet in the Magical Militia, I didn’t learn about any security breaches. I doubted that the witches would allow us to stow away in their vehicles.

  “What about Magnar’s sisters?” asked Fyrian.

  I pictured little Piper and the flirtatious Freja. “What about them?”

  “Not the youngest four,” she replied. “The two older ones we fought at the border. They broke into the Magical Militia, didn’t they?”

  “Using dark fairy artifacts.”

  “I forgot about that.”

  Outside, the Sandbrick Road sprawled out toward the capital, bisecting an arid landscape of olive and camel and beige. In the distance, hills rolled out toward the hazy horizon, the only sign of moisture in the cerulean sky.

  Stafford stretched and yawned. “Nearly there.”

  Moments later, we approached the stretch of road leading to the capital’s central buildings. I peered out through the float’s window. They had cleaned the scrubland up since the riots, but the few trees that lined the Sandbrick Road appeared damaged by fire.

  The float passed through the wards and over the high walls of the Magical Militia compound, a series of buildings set within a lush garden of fruit trees and vegetable plants arranged in an explosion of colors that would rival any United Kingdom of Seven flowerbed.

  A quartet of witches standing in the courtyard outside the main doors raised their staffs. I supposed this was a precaution in case we had decided to mount a rescue mission.

  Roseate landed the float in between the witches, and they shot blue magic over our vehicle. The magic criss-crossed over the roof before settling down to pin its black wings to the ground.

  I shot Stafford a significant look. Even if we managed to free her, there was no way in the Known World the witches would let us leave with Evolene.

  He chewed his bottom lip as though trying to work out a way around the security measures. After a moment, his expression and posture sagged. “We’d better go.”

  “The door should have opened by now.” I glanced through the window.

  Roseate was deep in conversation with the two lieutenants who had gotten Evolene arrested. Argentina, the one with the cropped silver hair and Raven, with indigo-colored braids arranged around her head like a hangman’s noose, leaned close as though sharing gossip.

  “What’s she doing talking to them?” I knocked on the door to catch Roseate’s attention. Her head twitched, but she didn’t turn.

  “She’s ignoring me on purpose,” I snarled.

  “Maybe she didn’t hear you,” said Stafford.

  “You don’t know what she’s like.” I knocked harder.

  Roseate turned and scowled.

  I knocked again for good measure. She was supposed to transport us, not fraternize with the very people who had arrested her supposed friend.

  Fyrian made a clucking sound into our bond. “Nasty little witch.”

  “Why does everyone tolerate her?” I pointed at the door and mouthed at her to let us out. “She’s awful.”

  “I think she acts like that to get noticed. Without that attitude, she’s got no personality.”

  After a few minutes of chatting with the catty lieutenants, Roseate pointed the crystal tip of her staff at my face, and I drew back, narrowly avoiding the flash of white magic. The door clicked open, and I glanced at Stafford. “See what I mean?”

  His brows drew together. “She’s dangerous.”

  I clenched my teeth. “When we get back, we’re making a complaint to Madam Maritimus.”

  He nodded.

  The two lieutenants marched toward us, both giving us smug looks. I ground my teeth. They didn’t even know us. Why were they taking such delight in our frustration and Evolene’s misfortune?

  The silver-haired one said, “General Shipton has permitted you thirty minutes on the premises, starting from the moment you crossed our wards. Hurry along before your time is up.”

  My stomach dropped, and I exchanged a stricken look with Stafford. Roseate and the lieutenant had deliberately wasted our time! My blood simmered with anger, threatening to spill over into rage. I turned to Roseate, who raised her chin in
challenge. If I confronted her now, we’d have no time to speak to Evolene!

  “Come on.” Stafford grabbed my arm. “We’d better hurry.”

  We followed Roseate and the lieutenants through the oaken door and down the dim hallways of the main building. Dark stirrings of loneliness and failure seeped through the walls, making my chest tighten.

  I pictured the bright, green terraces and carved, sandstone walls of Mount Fornax and pushed those feelings away. Clinging onto the idea of being a witch when it was clear that I didn’t have the magical aptitude had been a painful mistake. Witches of all ages and levels in the hierarchy passed us in the hallway, each casting us suspicious looks. It was rare to see males in the Magical Militia who weren’t the heads of Noble Houses like Father.

  The lieutenants led us down a number of staircases. It was obviously some kind of magical illusion. There was no way the Magical Militia stretched more than ten stories underground. We continued for what felt like an eternity, descending flight after flight until they stopped at a massive, metal door.

  Roseate turned to me and grinned. “Would you like to open it?”

  I stepped back. “What’s it made of?”

  Stafford rushed forward, turned the handle, and held the door open for us all. “We have no time to lose.”

  Roseate’s face fell, and I curled my lip. I would bet all the gold left in my trunk that the door was made of fairy iron, and she wanted to see if it would hurt me. I raised my chin. She’d have to try harder to find out my weaknesses.

  Inside were rows of cells on both sides, arranged like the stalls on the terraces of Mount Fornax. Their floor-to-ceiling entrances were obscured by opaque magic, so it was difficult to tell which cells were occupied.

  “Where is she?” asked Stafford.

  “The end,” replied the silver-haired lieutenant.

  Moments later, we stopped at the only cell with a transparent opening. A sole figure sat on a bench with her head bowed. Through our bond, I could feel Fyrian’s chest tighten. I guessed it reminded her of the time she’d been imprisoned in her stall for murder.