Since our first lesson of the day would be held in a windowless classroom, we headed out of the mess hall and into the sunny terrace. A fresh breeze blew over my skin, filling my lungs with cool air. The grass no longer crunched underfoot but felt a little moist as though it had rained sometime during the night. I glanced up at the thin blanket of clouds covering the sky, which let in streams of sunlight. Perhaps someone had fixed the weathervane and created some temperate weather for once.
“Did Madam Maritimus work out who stole your gold?” Stafford took a bite out of his breakfast roll.
“I couldn’t risk another interrogation, so I went to Evolene and Master Jesper instead. She took a few clues away to study.”
“Oh.” He lowered his roll and dipped his head. “How is she?”
I paused. “Have you spoken to Evolene yet?”
Stafford’s shoulders hunched around his ears. “She’s got Phoenix, now. And King Magnar.”
“She didn’t mention Phoenix yesterday,” I said. “And I think she’s avoiding her new guardian and his sisters.”
We continued along the terrace in silence, munching on our breakfast rolls. Stafford stamped on a stair stone and activated an upward flight. When we reached the surface, he asked, “Is she all right, then?”
“Why don’t you go to the laboratory and ask her for yourself?”
He took the stairs two at a time, muttering, “It will be awkward now. I was supposed to rescue her, and those witches made me crawl on the floor instead.”
I hurried after him. “Don’t you think she might have been too busy trying not to drown to notice them humiliating you?”
At the top of the stairs, he paused and bowed his head. “I still can’t face her.”
“Hold on a minute.” I caught up with him and grabbed his forearm. “You’re the man who wanted to give up your career as a dragon mage to be with her in Tundra. Now you’re telling me you can’t even say hello because you’re embarrassed?”
He jerked his head away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why?” I scowled. If this was anything to do with being female, I would smack some sense into him. There was no shame in falling to a stronger enemy, as long as the victim bided their time to fight back at the first opening.
“Because you’re a hero,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m just the sidekick who gets hurt.”
I gave him a hard shove on the arm. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“While I was seeking out diplomatic solutions, who immediately rushed to her defense?”
“Me.” He clutched his breakfast roll with both hands, letting a bit of relish plop onto the lawn.
“Who stowed away underneath a flying carriage to infiltrate the Magical Militia in a one-man rescue mission?”
His lips curled into a smile. “Me.”
“And who risked everything to get a chance to visit Evolene in her prison cell?”
A flush of pink bloomed across his cheeks. “Stop making me sound like something out of a romantic scroll.”
“Some girls would consider themselves lucky to have a suitor like you.” And if Father’s behavior at the Warrior Queen was any indication, he wanted Stafford as a son-in-law. I didn’t bother to share that information. It would only lead to awkwardness.
His brows rose. “Even newly adopted Princesses?”
I bumped his shoulder. “She was just the same old Evolene when I saw her yesterday. King Magnar’s new guardianship doesn’t suddenly make her anything like Astri and Botilda.”
“Do you think so?”
“Evolene hasn’t gotten any airs or graces. Visit her and see for yourself.”
He set his jaw and squared his shoulders. “I’ll do it now.”
I grabbed his wrist. “After flying safety. Master Klauw saw us in the mess hall. If you don’t turn up, he’ll have your hide.”
We sat on a low boulder overlooking the Great Lake and watched the blue dragons swimming deep within the water’s surface. The way they danced around each other reminded me of winged fish, except the dragons had serpentine tails that curled beautifully with their flowing movements. One of them had scales so pale, they were almost white, which reminded me of the wild dragon.
I chomped down hard on my breakfast roll. Something had to be done about that manipulative, iridescent wretch. He couldn’t continue trying to speak to Fyrian. She wasn’t weak-minded and didn’t appreciate his attempts to befriend her. Perhaps he thought he was the first ever to try manipulating a younger dragon into securing his freedom. I swallowed hard. It wouldn’t work. Fyrian had more sense than to listen to him, but I still hated the thought of him trying to poison her mind.
Stafford finished his roll and wiped his hands on his breeches. “Are you ready?”
I stood. We had flying safety next. Master Klauw knew everything about dangers to dragons. Maybe I could hint that I wanted to speak to the wild dragon through Fyrian’s link and see what he would say. “Only a few more bites. I can finish the rest on the way.”
We headed back into the mountain and through the hallways to Master Klauw’s classroom. The dragon rider cadets were already streaming through the doors, so we followed after them.
As soon as we stepped inside, Stafford turned around and muttered, “Look at the artwork.”
On the walls were the usual morbid paintings of dragons put in peril by their riders but with a few additions. An auburn-haired mage floated underwater with a blue dragon in a sea full of giant serpents. Next to it hung a picture of a green-haired cadet punching a rapier red unconscious. I glanced at Muti, who scowled at the picture. The final one was a blond-haired cadet on a green dragon falling through the skies chased by an angry lightning bird.
A clawed fist of guilt squeezed my heart. I hadn’t imagined that feeding the weathervane an antidote would ever cause such a powerful explosion.
Master Klauw stood. “It would seem that the title of this class should be dragon safety. An increasing number of warriors and cadets force their dragons into situations unsuitable for their capabilities out of a misguided sense of heroism.”
“Dragons are adults, aren’t they?” said Muti. “They can make up their own minds.”
The dragon master nodded. “Cadet Pavo makes an interesting observation. Unbonded dragons are free to do as they wish without having to consider the feelings of any warrior, but once a dragon is bonded, he or she forms a deep, unbreakable connection.”
A blonde-haired witch sitting in front raised her hand. “Can they sense each other’s feelings?”
“A dragon can feel their rider’s disappointment or anger, yes.” He turned to me and said, “The bond compels them to create harmony, much like in a magical marriage.”
I shuddered, pushing away thoughts of King Magnar’s terrible wedding vows of obedience. It seemed like Master Klauw thought I was a bad influence on Fyrian. How could I ask him about the wild dragon now?
The small, ginger-haired instructor paced up and down the front of the classroom. “Some warriors use their dragon’s eagerness to please to manipulate them into entering situations their unbounded friends would judge as too dangerous.”
I dipped my head. That wild dragon had accused the warriors of enslaving the dragons. Was Master Klauw implying similar? He could coat an entire wall with the number of perilous situations I had encountered with Fyrian.
Her side of the bond remained silent, and my heart sank. Apart from what she had shared last night about the wild dragon’s attempts at conversation, she hadn’t given me anything more than one-word answers or politely worded requests to leave her alone. I dipped the nib of my quill in the ink pot I shared with Stafford and wrote today’s date on the corner of my parchment.
Master Klauw returned to his desk and stood beside it, steepling his fingers. “I want each of you to write a story, true or false, of a situation where a rider cajoled their bonded dragon into doing something dangerous. Extra points will be given to those who provide
quality illustrations.”
I blew out a long breath and stared at my parchment. Which adventure would I write about? The incident with the spriggans at the Savannah border? The explosive-hurling homunculi? One of the times I got Fyrian chased by angry witches? They were all pretty bad.
“I did not steal it!” hissed a voice from the other end of the table. Gobi turned around and pointed his quill at the riders in the table behind.
Muti bared his teeth. “You were the last person who flipped it. Give me back my lucky shilling!”
Grimacing, I set down my quill and ran my fingers through my hair. It looked like the thief had struck again.
“What is the meaning of this?” snapped Master Klauw.
“This fool is making accusations in class,” said Gobi.
“This fool has been avoiding me since he stole my silver shilling,” snarled Muti.
Master Klauw stormed to the other side of the room, his face redder than his hair. “How dare you talk of treasure while discussing the health and safety of dragons?” He pointed at Muti. “You struck poor Rubens, who was just trying to be friendly.”
Muti shot to his feet. “That rapier red committed an act of tyranny against my person. How else was I supposed to react once I regained my senses?”
The other rider cadets snickered.
Master Klauw’s eyes flashed an even brighter green, and he clenched his fists to his sides, arms shaking with rage. “Get out!”
I drew in a sharp breath through my teeth and grabbed Stafford’s arm. Would Master Klauw turn into a rapier red again?
Muti’s face paled, but he lifted his chin and walked out of the class without a word. I swallowed hard. Master Klauw might have been one of the smallest males in Mount Fornax, but he was strong enough to punch a quarter-giant like General Thornicroft across a room.
The dragon master turned his furious gaze to the rest of the class, settling on me. “Out. All of you.”
I shoved my writing equipment in my knapsack and hurried out of the room. Asking Master Klauw about the wild dragon when he was in this mood would likely lead to a fiery punishment. I wasn’t sure how it would affect Fyrian, and I wasn’t prepared to put her in any more danger. She was still suffering from my bad decision to talk to the wild dragon.
Instead of going to the mess hall for lunch, I went to the Healer’s Academy to find Dr. Duclair. Roseate told me she was busy with an important patient and couldn’t be disturbed. I tried asking her if there was such a thing as mind healers for dragons, and she said I needed to approach a tamer.
In the afternoon, we had Swordsmanship class with the riders and tamers. We all crowded around Captain Pristis, who stood in the middle of the circle of cadets to deliver his lecture.
The slender instructor spread his arms wide and turned around, silver ponytail swishing with the graceful movement. “Can anybody tell me an effective line of defense against a stronger opponent?”
“A shield?” asked Gobi.
“Unless it is enchanted, some opponents are strong enough to shatter it with a single blow.”
“Dodging,” said a tamer cadet.
“Why?” asked the instructor.
“It might tire out the opponent and give you an opening to strike while they are distracted.”
Captain Pristis clapped his hands together and beamed. “Close. Today, you will practice the art of the feint.”
“Sir!” Gobi’s hand shot up.
“Yes, Cadet Bluebeard.”
“Why not attack the opponent directly? Feinting is dishonest.”
The Captain tilted his head to the side. “Some warriors may consider it a dishonorable technique, but when cornered by an angry dragon, feinting might be the only thing that keeps you alive.”
That’s when I noticed his uniform. He wore the steel-gray leather of a dragon tamer, which explained why he seemed preoccupied with fighting stronger opponents. I sucked in an excited breath. Captain Pristis could answer all my questions about the wild dragon and give me advice on how to make him stop contacting Fyrian. I would ask him at the end of the class.
“Get into pairs,” said the instructor. “The person feinting must trick their opponent out of their defensive stance and strike when their guard is down.”
I grabbed Stafford’s arm and pulled him into a far corner. “You first.”
He swung at my neck with the wooden practice sword, and I raised to block, but he swerved down and out of reach to whack my shin.
Pain radiated along my fibula bone, and I winced and shook my leg. “Good one. Did you see Evolene at lunchtime?”
“Master Jesper told me she went to meet her guardian. They had a meeting with the Witch General and the Magistratus.”
“What?” I dropped my sword arm.
Stafford jabbed at my neck. Instead of bringing up my sword to block, I leaped backward out of reach of the second jab he made to my stomach. While he was busy scowling, I swung at his neck.
He dodged to the left. “I climbed the roof and checked all the skylights. All four of them sat in an interrogation with six of the Magistratus’ white witches. He kept asking what happened the day she escaped.”
“What did Evolene say?” I circled right, eyes narrowed, trying to anticipate his next move.
“That someone stunned her.” He thrust, making me spin out of range, only to get the flat of his wooden blade to hit my shoulder. “And she woke up wandering through the drylands of Mount Fornax in her chemise and then bumped into King Magnar.”
“And they believed that?”
“The Witch General wanted to perform a truth spell on Evolene, but King Magnar said any actions against his ward would be a declaration of war against the Savannah Empire.”
I shook my head. That was awfully decent of King Magnar to have protected her. “What happened in the end?”
“The Witch General asked if a certain Princess married King Magnar in exchange for adopting Evolene. He said no, but nobody believed him.”
I snorted. She still suspected I had rescued Evolene.
Stafford lowered his sword arm and drew his brows together. “Well, did the Princess sacrifice herself?”
“No,” I whispered. She didn’t have to.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Good.”
“When are you going to see Evolene?” I asked.
“Tonight,” he replied.
Gobi grabbed my arm. “Bluford, you have to help. Muti has gone mad!”
“What happened?” I turned around.
The younger cadet pointed at the far corner. In the gaps between the sparring warriors, Rufus and Muti fought with rapid movements, complete with metal swords. I groaned. “Why are they fighting?”
Gobi’s eyes filled with tears. “Muti wanted to spar with me. I think he planned on teaching me a lesson for the silver shilling I did not steal, but Rufus took my place. Now Muti is furious.” He gave my arm a gentle tug. “Please, you have to stop him!”
I walked around the sparring pairs, muttering, “Why me and not the captain?”
“You are the best dueler in Mount Fornax.” Gobi continued tugging at my arm. “Not even Captain Pristis could have beaten King Magnar’s monster form.”
“That was Fyrian and the parched sword.”
He shook his head. “You are always being modest.”
A huge tamer cadet staggered back into our path. Side-stepping out of his way, I shoved him back toward his opponent. Before I could reach Muti and Rufus, Captain Pristis leaped between the two half-ogres and crouched low, somehow dodging their sword strikes. Then he raised both hands and grabbed their blades.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” he bellowed.
My stomach lurched. I clapped my hands to my mouth, waiting for blood to spout from the instructor’s hands, but nothing happened.
“This is an outrage,” snarled the Captain. “The two of you will stand in opposite corners of the room until the end of the class. Then I will keep you for the rest of the evening and t
each you the true meaning of swordsmanship!”
My heart sank. Captain Pristis was the only tamer I knew, and I wouldn’t get the chance to speak with him about the wild dragon. Waiting around for him to finish whatever he had planned for them wouldn’t work, as I’d arranged to meet Niger for drogott practice. I glanced at Rufus, who scowled at Muti before taking his place in the corner of the room.
Gobi wrung his hands. “Oh, no. I got Rufus into trouble!”
I gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Muti started it. Once the story comes out that Rufus stepped in to protect you, Captain Pristis will understand.”
Gobi nodded. “Thank you for being my friend.”
I bit the inside of my lip. Niger had been right. His display of dominance while disguised as me had resolved Gobi’s petty rivalry. Perhaps I didn’t know as much about half-ogres as I had thought. I would have to apologize to Niger when I saw him this evening for drogott practice.
Chapter 9
Stafford, Gobi, and I walked through the hallways toward the mess hall. At this time of the evening, sunlight no longer streamed through the few openings out into the terraces. Instead, gas lamps shone at full blast, casting multiple shadows across the polished, sandstone floors. My steps were fast and light, as Niger and I would spend time alone practicing drogott. I hadn’t seen Mother for ages, which meant she was probably too busy spying for the Queen of the Fairies to interfere with my time with Niger. I quickened my pace, ignoring the dragon moths fluttering around my heart.
“Who do you think took Muti’s lucky shilling?” asked Stafford.
“I do not know,” muttered Gobi. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stomped behind us. “Muti probably lost it but is blaming me.”
“Or the person who stole my gold coins took it,” I said.
“Why would somebody who has gold want a single silver coin?” asked Gobi.
“Because they’re a thief,” said Stafford.
I raised a shoulder. “Or they want to create as much disharmony as possible in Mount Fornax.”
Stafford stopped walking, making Gobi bump into his shoulder. “You know who stole it.”
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