I turned to Captain Caiman. “May Fyrian and I fly away to do more speed drills?”
Our instructor gave me a toothy grin. “Go ahead. Practice away!”
I clambered up Fyrian’s foreleg and positioned myself between her wing bones. We didn’t need to use our connection to leave. Fyrian disliked Byrrus as much as I despised King Magnar.
“His sisters are in that hut,” she said. “Should we fly above it and make scary noises?”
I snorted. “They’d deserve it after what they did to Evolene, but I don’t want to waste any time on that pair.”
“Where are we going, then?” She glided over the dry side of the mountain at a steady pace, wings outstretched.
“Let’s talk to the wild dragon.”
“Oh.” Her voice turned dull.
I tucked a lock of magically darkened hair behind my ear. “What?”
“They’re not good influences.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember the story I told you about the wild dragon and all the black females he tried to tempt into running away with him?”
“The wild dragon who convinced one of them to burrow a hole under the wards?”
“That’s the one.” Fyrian continued over the rocky terraces. A pair of rapier reds flew out to join us, and she gave them a little spin. “Well, they’re all like that.”
Behind us, the rapier reds mirrored her movement. Fyrian raised her head and soared up into the skies. The smaller dragons followed. I squinted at their pointed faces. One of them looked like Vermiculus, the red dragonet who had lived in the palace with Fyrian. I would have asked, but Fyrian’s reluctance to meet the wild dragon was far more fascinating. “You think he’s going to make you do something?”
“When you say it like that, you make me sound stupid.”
“But that’s my point,” I gave her a pat on the smooth scales between her wingbones. “You’re clever and have your own ideas and opinions. No wild dragon in a cage can make you do anything.”
“Ha!” She leveled out and blew a huge smoke ring. “He can try.”
I turned around to find the rapier reds producing their own little rings of smoke. A laugh bubbled up in my chest. “That’s the spirit.”
For the next few minutes, Fyrian flew around the mountain, leaving its dry side and over an expanse of orchards. At the sight of lemon trees, she landed on the widest part of the terrace with a thud. The rapier reds flew back to their side of the mountain. Unlike green dragons, reds preferred bitter tastes to sour.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Having a snack. Want something?”
I glanced around. Most of the trees contained the usual kind of lemons only palatable when mixed with sugar, but at the end of the terrace stood a sweet citrea tree. “Hold on. I’ve found something.”
While Fyrian shook the branches of the lemon trees and scooped up the fallen fruit with her tongue, I slid off her back and jogged to my target. Like most citruses, the citrea’s leaves were waxy, but their fruits were four times the size of regular lemons and infinitely more sweet.
I glanced up at the lowest branch and scowled. These trees had obviously been cultivated with dragons in mind because their fruit hung beyond the reach of the average six-foot-tall person. I jumped high, barely grazing the tip of my longest finger on the bottom of the fruit’s bumpy, lemon surface.
“Here you go.” A huge shadow appeared above my head, and Fyrian butted one of the taller branches. A dozen citrea fell onto the ground.
“Thanks!” I rushed forward and picked up enough fruit to share with Stafford later. Niger and the others didn’t like sweet things.
After finishing our snack, we flew down to the base of the mountain, where the tamers had left the wild dragon’s cage in a low overhang out of the sun, but far enough from the residents of Mount Fornax that no one would be disturbed by his presence.
The wild dragon sat on his haunches with his forelegs outstretched, surveying the dry land with the grandeur of a King surveying his subjects. The scales around his body were as smooth as a blue dragon’s, making me wonder if he could swim. Three horns stood on his pointed snout that looked like they could gore the largest of animals.
As soon as he caught sight of us, he raised his head and followed our descent. There was something in his eyes, a cruel, cunning intelligence, that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Fyrian landed on the sandstone in front of the cage, and the dragon leaned forward and pushed his snout to the bars. His nostrils flared, giving me the impression that he was testing my scent for weaknesses.
A tiny shudder ran down my spine and caused a tremor in the tips of my fingers. My throat spasmed, and I forced out a long, calming breath. Why did he react that way to seeing me? Did I resemble someone he knew? “If I get too close, will he try to flame me?”
She shook her head. “There’s a magical barrier around the cage that bounces his fire back, so if he tried, he’d get a nasty surprise.”
The dragon narrowed his pale eyes, making his pupils barely visible slits.
“What kind of dragon is he?” With as much bravado as I could muster, I ignored my tightening stomach and swung my legs to the left and climbed down Fyrian’s foreleg.
“White, I think.”
“But did you see his scales?” I landed on my feet and leaned back on Fyrian’s foreleg. This was no ordinary dragon. “They picked up lots of different colors in the light. Silver dragons range from white to gray.”
“But he’s white in the cage.”
The wild dragon pulled himself to his feet and stared.
“Ugh,” said Fyrian. “He’s trying to talk to me.”
“Can you open up our connection so I can hear like you did with the blue dragon at the waterfall?”
“Let me check with him and see if he agrees.”
A male voice echoed in my head. “Will you tell me your name now, young female?”
“None of your business,” she snapped. “And I don’t want to know your name, either.”
The wild dragon raised his head. “If you are so hostile to my presence, why did you come to pay homage?”
“My partner wants to see you. I told her it was a waste of time,” said Fyrian.
He bared his teeth and hissed. “You willingly partner with humans?”
“Ogres.”
“There is no difference in attitude.” He stuck his snout in the air.
“The ogre-hybrids here respect dragons,” I said, keeping the trepidation out of my voice.
He reared back, baring teeth as sharp as longswords fresh from the forge. “You let this hybrid into the inner sanctum of our minds?”
“You said it was all right,” said Fyrian. “Do you have problems understanding words?”
“Of course not,” The wild dragon snarled. “Come closer, hybrid, so I may see you better. How is it you are able to connect so deeply with a dragon?”
I raised my shoulders but didn’t close the distance between us. “We just bonded that way.”
“She’s special,” said Fyrian. “I chose her for a reason.”
“Why?” asked the wild dragon.
Fyrian launched into an explanation of how someone had faked a death by dragon fire the same time she had transformed from a dragonet to a full-dragon. The wild dragon sat on his haunches and listened to the story, snarling at the unfair parts. When she reached the bit where we had broken through the wards and flew to freedom, he grunted with approval.
My insides relaxed throughout Fyrian’s story. With the way he listened and encouraged her to continue, wasn’t quite so frightening as I’d originally thought.
“There’s something I don’t understand,” said the wild dragon.
“What?” I asked.
“How did None-Of-Your-Business know you would be capable of mental communication?” he asked. “It was a risk, considering she might have been wrong and bonded with you for nothing.”
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br /> “Because I’m part-fairy.” The moment those words spewed out of our connection, I cringed.
The wild dragon’s eyes flashed, and he let out a gust of black flames, which spread across the bars of the cage. My heart leaped into my throat, and I clutched at my chest and staggered back. I’d seen yellow flames, red flames, blue and even white, but what did it mean when they were black?
“Am I to believe that dragons willingly submit to fairies?” He roared so loud, I clapped my hands over my ears. “Fosco lied!”
“No, he didn’t,” snapped Fyrian.
“He told me this was a sanctuary for dragons.” The wild dragon thrashed his serpentine tail and spewed green smoke from his nostrils. “Run by a Council of Dragons with humans working for them. But it is a training ground of warriors for the King Who Must Be Forgotten!”
“I-it isn’t like that!” On legs that trembled like saplings in a storm, I inched toward the cage. With a few careless words, I had undone all the work Master Fosco had put into making the wild dragon feel at ease in his new home. “I’m the only fairy-hybrid warrior in Mount Fornax.”
“Why would they allow such a wicked creature into the home of dragons?” he roared into our bond.
I stood in front of his cage and raised my palms. He cowered and shrieked, and I lowered my hands. Had this been how the fairies had tortured dragons? By shooting magic through their palms?
“They did in a few nightmares,” said Fyrian. “I had one where six of them ripped the gold from a dragon’s scales.”
I sat on the ground and crossed my legs, trying to look as harmless as possible. The wild dragon glared down at me with eyes that burned white with hatred.
“This is all my fault. Everything Master Fosco said was true, and I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression about Mount Fornax.” He flared his nostrils but didn’t reply with an insult or an accusation, so I took that to be a good sign. “May I ask you a question?”
“Ask,” he replied. “But you might not receive an answer.”
“Why didn’t you come down here after the Great Dragon Revolution?”
“Dragons revolted against the fairies?” Excitement made his voice quicken. “Are they all destroyed? Did the dragons take you as a hostage?”
“Not exactly.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “A few dragons escaped the realm, and one of them met Queen Cendrilla. She’s the ruler of this country. In exchange for the dragons helping her win a civil war, she gave them Mount Fornax. It’s an independent city-state.”
“Ruled by the Council of Dragons,” added Fyrian.
The wild dragon lowered his head to the ground, bringing his snout close. “I wish to meet this Queen Cendrilla.”
“She’s in the realm of the fairies in an enchanted sleep.”
He nodded. “They punished her.”
I shot Fyrian a helpless look over my shoulder. If I told the wild dragon she was the granddaughter of the Queen of the Fairies, he would work out the identity of her grandfather in a second and become riled up again. “She always has strange pregnancies and needs their help.”
He gave me an absent nod as though he had lost interest in the subject. My shoulders relaxed, and I eased out a breath of relief through my nostrils.
“Let me ask you a question, Fairy-Partner-Of None-Of-Your-Business.”
“Yes?” I leaned forward.
“If this place is such a paradise, why am I behind bars. Am I not a dragon?”
“Of course,” I replied. “But—”
“Yet I am not free. Am I to be broken in like a horse?”
“It’s not like that,” said Fyrian.
The chuckle that reverberated through my skull made my blood chill. It reminded me of how an executioner might laugh before killing a condemned prisoner he hated. “Then explain how it is, None-Of-Your-Business. You stand before me, harnessed like a saddle horse, allowing a…” Rage turned his voice into a growl. “Allowing a fairy-hybrid to ride you.”
“You’re twisting things around,” she cried.
“Which of us is more a prisoner? The one behind bars, or the one who doesn’t need bars to be controlled?”
I stepped between them. “Hey, don’t talk to Fyrian like that!”
The wild dragon pulled back his lips, exposing those sharp teeth. “Spriggans were fairy hybrids, just like you. None-Of-Your-Business may be too young to have experienced them, but I saw the injuries of dragons centuries after the fairies banished the King Who Must Be Forgotten. The fairies subjected so many of us to wicked experiments, and when they could not kill us humanely, they locked us in a bleak dimension, something None-Of-Your-Business is lucky enough to have never experienced.”
“I have the nightmares!” she said in a small voice.
“Which cease the moment you awaken!” he shouted. “Any dragon who allows himself to be ridden by a fairy is a traitor, and you, green female, are the worst kind.”
I shook my head and walked back to Fyrian. There was no reasoning with this dragon. I’d never spoken to anyone so full of hatred. She let me climb up her back, and I settled between her wings.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Far from you!” Fyrian leaped into the sky and flew away from the cage.
I turned around to glare, but the wild dragon threw his head back, puffing rings of green smoke from his open jaws. I supposed this was his version of manic laughter. I didn’t hear what he said next. Fyrian had already shut down our connection, and I had lost interest in speaking with him.
“Are you all right?” I ran my hand over Fyrian’s scales.
“Fine,” she snapped.
“Flying class will have finished by now. Should we go and see if Evolene’s in King Magnar’s dung house?”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she dipped her wing and turned toward the mountain, avoiding the dry part. After several silent moments, she said, “I’m going back to my stall.”
Guilt wrung my heart, and I winced. The wild dragon had twisted everything, making her sound like we were master and slave instead of bondmates.
“Fyri, I’m—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right.”
We flew the rest of the way without exchanging another word. Fyrian landed on the terrace outside her stall and paused for me to get off. I slid down her forearm and landed on the soft lawn.
“I’m going to sleep.” She entered her stall without turning to spare me a glance.
I gazed up at the midday sun. Fyrian never rested after flying class. The words of the wild dragon must have hit her hard. “All right, but you know you’re not a—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped.
A lump formed in my throat and I stood outside her stall, staring at her back. She didn’t even want me to see her face. “Sorry.”
When she didn’t reply, I sighed and headed for the dorms. It had been a huge mistake to go and see the wild dragon. Poor Fyrian had warned me, even reminded me of a story she’d told me about their devious nature, but I’d been too arrogant to listen. Now the wretched creature had gotten under Fyrian’s scales and made her feel like some kind of traitor. He was probably trying to work out a way to trick her into releasing him from his cage.
The sun beat down from its zenith, making my skin pulse with heat and irritation. I shoved open the nearest door and stepped into the cool, dark hallway. After that terrible conversation, all I needed was the tranquility of my room.
At this time of the day, the hallways were deserted. Classes had ended minutes ago, and most people would be in the mess hall. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, trudging forward, footsteps echoing off the walls. Would Fyrian need to see a mind healer? I would have to ask Dr. Duclair what happened to the black dragon who had been persuaded to dig the tunnel.
Eventually, I reached the hallway and opened the door to our dorms. Cushions lay strewn over the woolen sofas and on the floor as though someone had wrestled on them and
hadn’t bothered to tidy up a drunken night at the Warrior Queen. I sniffed and headed for my room. Whoever made this mess could clear it up himself.
I pushed my door open to find my mattress lying across the room, upside-down in a mass of blankets, clothing, and strewn parchment. I froze, heart thudding like a war drum. Someone had ransacked my room. A list of my property whirled through my mind. The day I had left the palace, I had worn breeches and a tunic, which I’d discarded for second-hand men’s clothing. There was nothing in my trunk that could identify me as Princess Alba, was there? My teeth worried at my bottom lip. I hadn’t taken anything from the palace except… I stepped into the room and opened my trunk.
The bag of gold I’d taken from the royal treasury was missing.
Chapter 7
I rushed out of my ransacked room, through the common room, and through the hallways toward Madam Maritimus’ office. Our Head of Security would help work out who had turned my things out and stolen my bag of gold. As I rounded a corner, my steps faltered. Master Fosco had asked her to investigate how I had sneaked through the wards while I was supposed to be in the jailhouse. What if she took the opportunity to interrogate me, or worse, performed a truth spell? My feet slowed to a stop. Speaking to Madam Maritimus alone would be risky. Especially when I had two magic-wielding friends who could investigate the theft.
I doubled back toward the next set of stairs, bounded to the surface and crossed the lawn to reach the gates of the Healer’s Academy. A mage with wet, auburn hair limped ahead of me and sneezed. Water soaked his leather armor, leaving tiny puddles on the sandstone path. A mix of curiosity and excitement bubbled through my belly like an effervescent elixir. From his build and the shade of his hair, he had to be the second oldest Griffin brother who had graduated.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
He turned around, revealing familiar features. “Yes?”
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