For Ollie Samphire.
I love you even more than stories!
Also by Stephanie Burgis
The Dragon with a Chocolate Heart
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
Once upon a time in a beautiful, dirty, exciting city full of people and chocolate and possibilities, there was a girl so fearless and so daring that …
No, wait. I’ve always been good at telling stories. But this time, I want to tell the truth.
The truth is that, for once, my older brother was right: it wasn’t sensible for me to accept the crown princess’s challenge. A thirteen-year-old girl from the riverbank, with no proper home or schooling, setting out to mix with royals, match wits with vengeful fairies and stand up for her entire city? Anyone in Drachenburg could have told me that was absurd.
But there’s one other truth I know for sure: if you have the courage to tell your own story, you can remake the world.
* * *
‘Behold!’ I pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen of Drachenburg’s finest chocolate house and strode inside, waving a freshly printed promotional handbill – one of hundreds that would be circulating through the city by nightfall. ‘My latest masterpiece! Feel free to bow down to me in wonder and amazement and shower me with all your gold.’
Standing at the closest counter and stirring something that smelt delicious, the head chocolatier rolled her eyes at me. ‘Oh, good,’ Marina said. ‘You’ve written more nonsense about us. As if we didn’t have enough customers to deal with already!’
The doors behind me swung open as she spoke, and Horst, the maître d’, hurried in, his lean brown face alight with interest. ‘Show me, Silke.’
With a jaunty bow, I handed over my work, then stuck my hands in the pockets of my bright, twice-mended scarlet jacket and rocked back and forth on my booted heels as I waited.
I’d switched to wearing boys’ clothing years ago for eminently sensible reasons. Wearing trousers instead of a constricting skirt, I could run as fast as the wind through even the busiest city streets. With a plain, dark green jacket and trousers, a white cravat and a green hat that hid my short black curls, I could fade into any crowd I chose. Today, though, I wasn’t looking for camouflage or for escape. Today, I was ready to strut like a peacock and enjoy my well-earned rewards.
The kitchen really did smell amazing.
I reached towards the closest bowl, but Marina smacked my hand away, her fingers warm gold against my dark brown skin.
‘Not that one! It isn’t ready yet. Look.’ She pointed to the next counter, where eight delicious-looking chocolate creams – my favourite – were cooling in long-stemmed glass bowls. ‘Eat one of those,’ she told me, ‘before you pop from sheer self-satisfaction.’ She scowled. ‘And then show me what you’ve written about us this time.’
I knew she’d want to read my handbill! ‘Here.’ Humming, I pulled out a second copy from the pocket of my only-barely-stained silver waistcoat, one of my best finds from my brother’s market stall on the riverbank. ‘I brought an extra one for you and Aventurine.’ Then I frowned, looking around the bright white kitchen as roasting cocoa beans rattled in the hearth with a companionable clatter. ‘Where is Aventurine?’
The Chocolate Heart’s apprentice chocolatier was the most ferocious girl I’d ever met, and the most fabulous one, too … and not just because of her unusual powers. Aventurine was the whole reason I’d found my post here at the Chocolate Heart: actual respectable work in a real shop with walls, serving some of the most powerful people in the city. It was the first chance I’d ever had to show my skills to the world, and I was determined to make it my first step towards a big and glorious story of my own … one that did not include sleeping in a tent on the riverbank forever.
But what was the point of showing off my latest triumph if my best friend wasn’t here to see it?
‘I sent her to the traders’ market,’ Marina said, plucking the second handbill from my grip. ‘We need more sugar. The loaf they gave me this morning was hollow, so Aventurine’s going to tell them it was rubbish and get them to replace it for free.’
‘You sent Aventurine to do that?’ I stared at her. ‘By herself?’
Marina heaved her big shoulders in a shrug as she looked down at the new handbill. ‘She’s my apprentice, isn’t she? She has to learn. She might not pick the very best on her first try, but –’
‘I’m not talking about the quality of the sugar,’ I said impatiently. ‘What if they’re rude to her when she tries to return the first lot, and she loses her temper?’
Marina looked up from my handbill to give me a deeply satisfied smile. ‘Then they’ll learn not to fob us off with substandard sugar, won’t they?’
‘Argh!’ I squeezed my eyes shut in anguish.
Did no one in this chocolate house understand the concept of good publicity?
It was hard enough to promote a chocolate shop whose chocolatier refused to come out of her kitchen to charm her patrons – Marina would never learn to be polite to important people – but between Aventurine’s stubbornness and my storytelling skills, we’d finally managed to overcome that hurdle. Aventurine had won the patronage of the king, and I’d told the whole story to the world through a series of brilliant handbills scattered across the city to lure in new customers every day. But even I couldn’t think of any way to twist our story into a happy ending if the Chocolate Heart’s apprentice got so angry that she accidentally spat flame in public.
That was the problem with having a best friend who had been born a dragon before a wandering food mage had turned her into a human and left her with food magic of her own. Her transformation had worked out well for all of us, since her massive, scaly family had negotiated an alliance with our powerful crown princess – the first known human-dragon alliance in all of history – and Aventurine had found herself a new home at the Chocolate Heart. Still, even as I’d written handbill after handbill about that victory, I’d had a niggling fear growing at the back of my mind.
Now that Aventurine had figured out how to use her new-found powers to shift back into her dragon body whenever she wanted to, I was just waiting for the moment she lost control of that shift – because whoever first created the phrase ‘fiery temper’ had definitely had dragons in mind.
If she did lose control, I had to be there – and not only for Aventurine’s sake.
‘I’ve got to go.’ I spun around to leave, abandoning my poor, lovely, untouched chocolate cream.
Before I could push open the doors to the front room, Horst looked up from his copy of the handbill and grabbed the sleeve of my scarlet jacket. ‘Silke, wait.’
Finally! I skidded to a halt despite the oncoming crisis, raising my eyebrows expectantly. ‘Yes?’ I’d been waiting all day to see his reaction to the new handbill. I couldn’t wait to find out which line was his favourite!
But instead of expressing his admi
ration for my brilliance, Horst frowned, looking past me towards the clock. ‘Don’t forget to be back by one,’ he said. ‘We have a lot of bookings this afternoon, and we’ll need an extra waitress to handle the crowd.’
‘I know.’ I had to stifle a dragon-like growl of my own. Didn’t anyone understand me, even here? I wasn’t reckless – or a child, no matter how young I looked.
I might only be thirteen years old, but I’d grown up on the night I’d lost my parents six years ago, on that terrible journey that had led me and my brother Dieter to our patchwork home on the riverbank of this city … and no matter how hard Dieter had fought to control me, I’d been looking after myself ever since then. I knew perfectly well how to keep track of time!
Rolling my eyes, I pulled free of Horst’s grip and slipped through the kitchen doors, clamping down hard on my frustration. ‘But first I have to save that trader!’ I called back before the doors closed behind me.
Then I flashed a bright, happy grin at the customers who’d turned to watch me from their tables in the bright golden-and-orange front room of the chocolate house. ‘Don’t forget to tell all of your friends,’ I told them as I hurried past, ‘you ate the best chocolate in Drachenburg today!’
I kept my saleswoman’s smile all the way through the chocolate house and out of the front door … until I stepped out of view of the Chocolate Heart’s big front window.
Then I ran.
CHAPTER 2
The Chocolate Heart was planted smack in the middle of the wealthy merchants’ district, with bright pink and blue buildings and expensive carriages everywhere. It should have been a lovely sight on a brisk autumn day like today, but I didn’t have time to appreciate the spectacle. The traders’ market where Marina bought all of her supplies was a full two miles away, in the dingy, tightly packed sixth district where none of her fancy customers would ever dream of going. If I followed the broad and winding road that spiralled out through all of Drachenburg’s districts like the curl of a giant snail’s shell, I would never reach it in time.
I ran through the smelly alleyways instead, cutting straight across the city. There were people in Drachenburg who were born, lived and died in just one district, and treated all the others like dangerous foreign countries. But to me every bit of it was home, from the sunny yellow first district at the city’s heart, where the royal palace stood in unshakeable golden splendour, to the grimy, heaving fifteenth district, where even the king’s soldiers hesitated to go. I’d learned a long time ago that the skinny, shadowy alleyways, tucked away like shameful secrets behind the houses in every district, were the secret veins of the city, connecting all the different neighbourhoods into a living, breathing whole.
I had to dart and skip from side to side as I ran to escape the disgusting run-off that gushed down the centres of those alleyways. Unfortunately for my fabulous outfit, there was no way to escape the smell. It had rained for the past week, so the gutters were bubbling and overflowing with a noxious, clumpy, dark liquid goo made up of rainwater mixed with leavings from chamber pots, horse droppings and rubbish. Even when I held my breath, I could feel the stench floating up to stick itself against my skin and clothes.
But it was worth it. Every time I leaped out from the end of another curving passageway, I emerged into a whole new world of colour, filled with different kinds of people, sights and smells. From the third district to the fourth, the fifth …
There.
The big old brick warehouse hulked in front of me, all of the doors at the front propped open. No smoke was coming out of them, which was a definite relief. I didn’t hear any screams yet either.
Good. I still had time.
I started for the closest door – and heard an all-too-familiar roar of rage.
Too late! I sprinted forward in panic.
The moment I raced through the door, I knew exactly where my best friend was standing, because everyone else was backing away from her in a widening semicircle. All the traders here were big, tough men and women, used to hauling around massive crates and competing for every sale of spices and ingredients from across the world, but at that moment, they all shuffled warily backwards in unison, their faces pointed away from me.
‘What did you say about Marina?’ roared a familiar voice beyond them.
Uh-oh.
If there was one thing all dragons were, it was territorial. No one was allowed to attack Aventurine’s territory, which included not only the chocolate house itself but also Marina, Horst and me.
There were moments when I really, truly loved that fact. When I was lying awake late at night in my patchwork tent on the cold, bumpy ground of the riverbank, with the wind whistling through the thin cloth walls and a hundred other people shifting and rustling nearby, that knowledge – that no matter what might happen, I was part of Aventurine’s territory now, and she would do absolutely anything to protect me, with teeth and claws and fire if necessary – filled me with wonder and a fierce gratitude.
Right now, though, was not one of those moments.
Right now was one of those moments when I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs while I shook some sense into my best friend’s feral brain. Because sometimes dragons were impossible!
Taking a deep breath, I lowered my head, pushed my way hard through the closest knot of fully grown men and women and slipped out on the other side with a smile on my face.
‘There you are!’ I said to Aventurine.
At first, I couldn’t even tell what had sent all those grown men and women backing away from her in fear. Oh, she was chock-full of seething ferociousness, of course. Her fists were clenched in front of her as she aimed a fiery glare with her unusual golden eyes at the man in the centre of the semicircle. And her new turquoise-and-orange dress was eye-wateringly garish enough to make anyone take a step back in horror … not to mention the way her short black hair stuck out in all directions because she refused to ever take enough time away from the chocolate house to get a proper haircut …
But really, she was barely five feet tall. What was their problem?
A flicker of movement on the wall behind her caught my eye, and I gulped.
Ohhh.
The problem would be the shadow that stretched behind my best friend’s small, fierce, human body … the shadow that grew larger and larger as I watched, spreading across the market stalls and the brick wall behind her, until it loomed over the entire market hall, with its massive tail lashing in anger and its giant jaws opening wide.
Even in shadow form, Aventurine’s dragon teeth were impressive.
As an audible gasp of fear rippled through the crowd, I stepped forward, crossed my arms and gave her my sternest look – because I knew there was one thing that was even more important to Aventurine than territory.
‘I hope you’ve got that sugar loaf for Marina,’ I told her. ‘She needs it now or else the new batch of chocolate will be completely ruined.’
‘New … what?’ Aventurine blinked as if she were coming out of a daze. She swung around to stare at me, her shadow stretching, massive and reptilian, on the wall behind her. ‘What are you talking about? We already made the new cakes of cooking chocolate today. And we don’t put sugar in those anyway.’
‘The chocolate creams then? Or hot chocolate?’ I shrugged, keeping my expression bland. ‘I’m not the chocolate expert, am I? I don’t know what she was talking about. But I know Marina was in a hurry, and something chocolatey is going to be ruined if you don’t get back soon.’
Aventurine scowled, but I could tell that I’d won. Chocolate always won over everything, for her. Her shadow was already shrinking as she turned back to the big man who stood in the centre of the semicircle. ‘I would have had it by now if he hadn’t said –’
‘And I’m sure he regrets it very much.’ I gave the man a stern look. ‘Would you like to give my friend a decent loaf of sugar this time? And maybe a partial refund, too, as an apology for the time she’s had to waste in replacing that hollow l
oaf you sold Marina?’
For a moment, I thought he had actually seen sense. I watched his massive chest rise and fall in a shuddering breath. Then he looked past Aventurine. The dragon-shaped shadow was gone. Aventurine was only a twelve-year-old apprentice again, with short hair and an ugly dress. And I could actually see the shift in his perceptions as he glanced back at the other, watching traders … and realised that he was only facing down two young girls after all.
His muscular arms crossed in front of him. His pale blue eyes narrowed and fixed on me. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that your friend’s a public menace who’s created a disturbance of the peace. Maybe we should summon the lord mayor’s guard to deal with that.’
No, no, no! Panic started a drumbeat in my head as the traders around him rustled and muttered in agreement. Meanwhile, Aventurine let out a dangerous snarl.
The lord mayor hated our chocolate house and always had. Getting him involved now would be disastrous for everyone.
So I cocked my head, raised my eyebrows and asked the sugar trader gently, ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? You do know whose protection she has, don’t you?’
The sound that came out of his mouth then was almost as much of a snarl as Aventurine’s had been. ‘If you’re talking about those dragons …’
Oops.
The rustling and discussion around him disappeared as abruptly as if an alarm bell had sounded. Suddenly the whole market hall was dead silent and the tension in the air was unmistakeable.
Goosebumps prickled down my arms. Not good.
I knew this feeling in a crowd. I knew it much too well. After so many years of living on the riverbank, I’d learned to sense it in the air like a warning, because my community – ‘the riff-raff on the riverbank, not even wanted in their own countries’ – was always first to be blamed whenever things went wrong for the city as a whole.
And when frightened, angry people found a focus for their rage …
Suddenly, they were all talking at once.
‘Flying over our city like they own it!’
The Girl with the Dragon Heart Page 1
