“A duel. He’ll get hurt.”
“Something tells me it’s his fault,” I said. “Fly back to the fortress and tell whoever what happened.”
“Matilda! I can’t just leave him,” said Leanna, wringing her hands.
“You can and you will. Go.”
She zipped off the tower and Iris grabbed my hand. “Save him. He’s so pretty.”
“Yeah, that’s a reason to out us,” I said.
Iris got smart and said, “He’s our host’s son.”
I groaned and watched the crowd around Giacomo. There was lots of pushing and shoving. Plenty of anger, but it seemed—I don’t know—not that serious. This wasn’t a Parisian mob getting ready to tear royalty to bits. I wished Daiki, Lrag, or Bentha were there. They were guys. This was a guy thing, not a murder thing.
“Do it,” pleaded Iris.
Something inside me said no. I shook my head. “It’ll make it worse. They’re not serious.”
“They’re gonna stab him!”
They weren’t going to stab Giacomo. Sure, there was a lot of sword waving and yelling, but what were they waiting for? “Just hold on.”
“We can’t wait,” said Iris, yanking on my arm and then dropping it. “I’ll do it.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“I’ve been in battle before.” She frowned and put her hands on her hips, looking a whole lot like Mom when she was about to lecture me. I wanted to point out that Iris never fought. She was mostly a hapless bystander.
“Okay,” I said. “Go for it.”
My little sister’s mouth fell open. “Really?”
I suppressed a snort. “I fought enough. You can take over for a while.”
“I think I will.”
“Good.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I’ll go over there,” said Iris.
“Yep.”
“I will.”
I crossed my arms. “Giacomo’s waiting. Get on with it.”
“Matilda.” She drew out my name until it sounded like it had eighteen syllables.
“Iris.” I did the same, but it was a lot harder. You can’t do much with Iris.
Then she grinned and clapped her dimpled hands. “Thank goodness.”
A large group of Montagues flew past us on the left, heading for Giacomo at full speed.
“Oh no!” Iris turned to the right and another group of sapphire-winged fairies flew up from the other side of the bridge. The fight or whatever it was moved closer to us.
Iris yanked on my arm. “What’ll we do? What’ll we do?”
“Nothing. Ruffiano’s there.”
Now that the Ruffiano and the other fairies were there, I could see how young the ones arguing with Giacomo were. The newly-arrived fairies were adults, real adults. Some had grey hair and full beards. Giacomo and the first group were unwrinkled and probably couldn’t grow a beard if their wings depended on it. A pretty girl arrived with the adults. She flew straight to the largest of the young Capulets and tried to pull him away. One of the adults ordered her away and the arguing heated up. They were yelling about “satisfaction” and someone called Marius. Borders and patients were mentioned. Ruffiano got in the middle in front of his son and pushed him back. I didn’t really know enough Italian to follow the conversation fully, despite Victory’s attempts to teach it to me. One word kept coming up. Duel. Giacomo forced his way in front of his dad and stuck his finger in the leader of the other fairies face. The Capulet laughed and Giacomo turned the color of Lrag. He couldn’t have gotten redder.
“What was that?” asked Iris.
“I don’t know ‘campione’,” I said. “Do you?”
“No, what are they saying now?”
Ruffiano said, “No campione.”
Giacomo got a funny, smug look on his handsome face. “Avrò un campione.”
Ruffiano waved his hands and protested. The Capulets jeered and laughed. They blew kisses at the Montagues and flew off.
“That doesn’t look good,” I said.
Iris’s lower lip poked out. “They were making fun of Giacomo.”
“Yeah, they were.”
Ruffiano argued with his son. The rest of the Montagues argued with each other. Nobody was happy, except Giacomo. He was smug in the face of his father’s tirade. I’d fought with Mom a million times, but I don’t think I ever looked like that.
Eventually, Ruffiano ran out of breath and pivoted in the air. He saw us and slapped his forehead. He yelled at Giacomo again, who shrugged and looked even more smug as he gazed at us with a subtle smile.
“I don’t like this,” I said.
Iris took my hand as the Montagues flew over. Ruffiano got to us first, just ahead of his son. “We must return to the fortress immediately.”
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“It does not concern our guests. You mustn’t worry about it.”
Giacomo darted up beside his father and Ruffiano smacked him with his wing. “Go home now.”
“Tell them,” said Giacomo.
“Go home!”
“You have to tell them.”
Ruffiano turned and grabbed his son by the shirt. “You undisciplined fool. Don’t you know what you’ve done?”
“I know exactly what I’ve done. My champion will win,” said Giacomo. “It’s guaranteed.”
“This is life. Nothing is guaranteed.”
“I have a dragon. They’ve got Oliverio. He’s good, but he’s not better than a dragon.”
What now?
I stepped to the edge of the brick. “Please tell me you have other dragons besides our dragons.”
Ruffiano scowled. “No, we don’t.”
Iris, in her sweet, loving way, said, “What do you want our dragons for? They are very good.”
“Yes, they are,” said Giacomo with an almost demonic smile.
“Shut up, you fool,” said Ruffiano. “My son, the idiot, has breached the border between us and the Capulets. Willfully, might I add. Then he challenged the son of old Tibalt Capulet to a duel.”
I knew the answer, but I asked the question anyway, “What’s that got to do with our dragons?”
“Oliverio offered him a champion to imply that my son is weak and my son”—Ruffiano glared at Giacomo—“accepted. He thinks he can have one of your dragons as champion.”
Giacomo smiled. “I can. Leanna said that Matilda is loyal and she absolutely protects her friends. We’re her friends.”
Leanna!
Chapter Fifteen
I MARCHED ACROSS the grand dining room and grabbed Leanna’s arm, dragging her behind me out of the crowd of Montagues. She tried to dig her heels in. I might’ve been in pain. I might’ve been tired. But I wasn’t stopping.
I dragged her into the hall and asked, “Where are the dragons?”
Leanna stared at me. “Are you mad?”
“Mad? No, I’m not mad. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You’re yelling.”
“Am I? Am I yelling in Verona, Italy, not Rome, Italy, not in the Vatican? Am I yelling where I’m not supposed to be?”
Leanna stuttered, but didn’t manage a sentence or even a word.
“Where are the dragons?” I asked again.
More stuttering.
Iris squeezed between us. “Agneta said they’re on the ramparts.”
“Which way?”
“You’re still yelling,” said Iris.
“You don’t say!”
Iris pointed down the hall at a fairy wearing a prim uniform in green. “There’s Agneta.”
Agneta gave us a timid wave. I charged toward her, yelling, “Where are our dragons?” I wasn’t nice and it embarrassed me a little when I thought about it later. Mom would be horrified, but she didn’t need to know.
Agneta led us through the halls to the staircase that Ruffiano took us up earlier. I bypassed her, racing with Leanna in tow. We reached the wall and, w
ithout having to think about it, I tapped the code on the grey stone. The stone melted away and I march through the doorway. The dragons were there, roasting the warm Italian sun. They lay on their sides with one wing outstretched to catch the most rays. Little jets of fire erupted in their nostrils with each exhale.
“Percy!”
The dragon’s purple eye lifted lazily.
“Wake up and listen to me,” I said. “This is important.”
Instead, he closed his eye and blew out a stream of fire that nearly fried the top of my head.
“Iris, can you get them up?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Order them not to fight,” I said.
Iris bit her lip and then said, “You probably need Victory for that. They swore allegiance to him.”
“Are you kidding? They swore allegiance to a baby phalanx. How is that possible?”
Iris puffed up with pride. “He speaks fluent dragon.”
I groaned. “Where’s Victory?”
“He should be here. Since you were so mean, he’s been hiding. Didn’t you notice?” asked Iris with a pout.
“He got Maraleeza killed.”
“It wasn’t his fault. He’s the best phalanx ever. He’s my little woobby woob.”
I let go of Leanna and threw up my hands. “I don’t even know what that is. Woobby woob? You’ve made him a megalomaniacal nut. That’s what you done.”
The pout got bigger. “He’s my baby and he’s perfect.”
“And there it is. Perfect. Nobody’s perfect.”
“Victory is.”
“You’ve got to stop it,” I said. “Now where is he?”
Iris stuck her nose in the air and walked over to Ovid’s head. She reached around one of his horns and tapped something. A second later, Victory crept around the horn, rubbing his eyes and yawning. I’d never seen him so timid. Iris gave me a glare that I’d never seen on her face before and it took me back. Iris wasn’t the glaring type. I guess she thought she was protecting her baby. But Victory wasn’t her baby. He was The Commander’s baby and we’d ruined him. When and if The Commander showed up, how could I explain that his kid had twenty languages and no humility? None at all.
“Victory,” I said, making sure I didn’t yell. For once, Victory didn’t do anything. “I need you to obey me.”
“Yes, Aunt Matilda,” the tiny phalanx said.
Iris’s mouth dropped open.
“I need you to follow orders to the letter,” I said.
“Yes, Aunt.”
Iris plucked him off Ovid’s head and kissed the top of his tiny noggin. “You don’t have a fever. Are you sick?”
“No, mother,” said Victory.
I have to admit that I thought the same thing. Victory didn’t obey unless it was in his best interest. He certainly didn’t blindly obey. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I want you to tell the dragons that they are absolutely not to fight in a duel.”
Victory nodded. “No duels.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yes, Aunt Matilda.” He hopped back to Ovid’s head and climbed over to the little, almost invisible ear flap and began speaking into it. Ovid’s eyes popped open. He lumbered to his feet and communicated with Percy and Penelope. Ovid started waggling his head back and forth. Great. He was excited. Of course, he’d want to fight a duel. Celtic Stoorworms were known for their feistiness. They were good dragons, if you could contain the crazy.
“No dueling,” I said.
Ovid shot flames a foot in the air and his whole sleek body wiggled.
“Nope. You can’t.”
He dropped his head an inch from me and gave me the stink eye.
“We’re not here to fight other people’s battles. We’re supposed to be in Rome right now, getting our family out of prison. Remember?”
Ovid thought about it. I didn’t want him thinking. Thinking was bad for me. Thinking got him to steal jewels off a reliquary box when a religious icon tour came to Vienna. I told him not to steal any of the bones or containers they were kept in. I didn’t think he’d steal a saint’s finger, but you never know. But then Ovid thought about it. I didn’t say not to steal the jewels. He just couldn’t steal the containers the jewels were on. So he stole them, all of them. I came home one day to find my entire apartment filled with dusty jewels from the twelfth century. That wasn’t easy to explain or fix. The museum seer wasn’t happy. It was almost an international incident.
“Victory,” I said. “Promise me the dragons won’t fight any duels with anybody.”
“They understand.”
I moved in closer and took a good look at the phalanx. He looked okay. He was a good pitch black and his shell was nice and shiny. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“I’m not acting weird, Aunt Matilda,” said Victory.
“How come you’re not pumping your fist and shouting,‘I am Victory’?”
The phalanx raised his fist and gave a half-hearted pump. “I am Victory.” There was no vanity, no ego, or pride. He could’ve been saying ‘I am potato salad,’ for all the enthusiasm he mustered.
Iris scooped him up and cuddled him to her chest. “My baby. What’s wrong with the best phalanx ever?”
I rolled my eyes and wheeled around, “Now you.”
Leanna jolted back and bumped into the wall where the door had been. “Matilda?”
“Did you tell Giacomo that I always protect my friends?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “That’s a compliment.”
“I’m two years younger than you. I should be in school doing useless stuff like algebra.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I said you were on vacation. It’s a vacation.”
“So how do you think he thinks that I protect my friends?”
“With…”
“I’ll tell you how. He thinks I’m in charge of us and that I protect my friends with the dragons.”
“How do you know that?” Leanna asked.
I told her about the duel and the dragons. I was as mad as Mom when I used to wander off in the woods around Whipplethorn Manor. I was spitting mad. I actually spit. “We’ve got to get out of here and Rickard can’t travel.”
“Just say the dragons can’t fight. They’re not that kind of dragon,” said Iris.
“How did they know to feed Percy and Penelope spices?” I asked.
Both Iris and Leanna looked at their feet.
“You told them that they were Moroccan Spice dragons, didn’t you? Do you think they might have a Speciesapedia in that big library that Gerald keeps going on about?”
Iris raised her eyes to mine. “Maybe.”
“Did they feed Penelope poison? She’s all bloated like in Paris,” I said.
“No way! They don’t know that Percy and Penelope love poison.”
“I bet they do, Iris.”
“But they don’t know about you,” said Leanna. “I didn’t say anything about your fire.”
“What about the betrothal?”
“I would never mention that. You told me not to.”
Percy’s tail slid across the brick and the fine tip slipped around my waist. He pulled me to him and stroked my head with the fine whiskers on his snout. “Okay. Okay. I’m calm.”
“What should we do?” asked Iris. “We can’t let Giacomo get killed.”
Leanna gasped, “Killed? You don’t think he’ll actually get killed.”
“It’s a duel. They’re not going to tickle each other,” I said with exasperation.
“It’s my fault.”
Percy pulled me closer and I rested against one of his snaggly teeth, breathing in the scent of cumin and cinnamon. “It’s Giacomo’s fault. He crossed into Capulet territory and he knew he was doing it.”
Leanna started pacing, so I couldn’t see what she was saying.
“Face me, please,” I said.
“Sorry. Who did he challenge?” she asked.
“Oliverio,” said Iris. “Giacomo is taller.”
Leanna wrung her hands. “Oliverio’s the most accomplished fighter the Capulets have produced in a century. He’ll kill Giacomo. We have to let Percy eat Oliverio.”
Ovid tossed his head back and forth, spouting fire and then preening.
“Or Ovid,” said Iris. “Ovid can eat him.”
Ovid set off a shower of sparks and then curled up like a cat with Victory tucked between his horns.
“Nobody’s eating anybody,” I said.
“You can set fire to Oliverio’s butt,” said Iris.
“Am I talking to myself? I’m not frying anybody.”
“We have to do something,” said Leanna. “Giacomo’s special.”
He was special, but not in a good way. We were going to do something, but nobody was going to like it. We were leaving. I’d get a treatment from the galen and we’d sneak out that night. Iris wouldn’t like leaving Rickard, but it couldn’t be helped. The galen would take care of him. Maybe he could catch up later. The question was when to tell Iris.
My sister waved a hand in front of my face.
“What?”
“I heard something,” she said.
A jolt of heat went through me and wanted to shoot out my palms. I almost couldn’t contain it. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was listening?”
“I didn’t hear it before. Nobody was creeping around.”
I unwound myself from Percy’s tail and whiskers. Iris, Leanna, and I crept over to the other side of the tooth. I didn’t see anyone. Iris pointed down and I frowned. Over the side? I stood on the edge with my toes hanging over and peered down. It took me a second.
“Gledit!” At the bottom, between two teeth, was my master secretary lying on his side and not moving. “Is he breathing?” I asked Iris.
Iris closed her eyes. “Yes, but he sounds funny.”
“Percy!”
The red dragon waddled over and belched, enveloping us in a cloud of spices. I waved my hand in front of my nose. “You greedy buzzard. Can you fly?”
He stuck his nose in the air and gave me the stink eye. Leanna shrank back. I’m told that dragon stink eye was pretty intimidating, but Percy was just a marshmallow at heart.
“I need a ride. Something’s up with Gledit down there.”
Percy craned out his long, skinny neck and turned his head sideways. He snorted pillars of flame and snatched me up with his tail. I blinked and Percy set me gently beside Gledit. His eyes were closed, arms and legs concealed against his leaf-shaped body. If you didn’t know Gledit, you’d never know he was a fairy. Leanna and Iris flew down and landed on the other side.
To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five) Page 22
