Cerulean Magic: A Dragon Mage Novel

by Aimee Easterling

  For his part, Nicholas yearned to shift into his draconic form so he could erase his annoyances by battling against the wind. Instead, he waited until the chef had disappeared down the hatch before grabbing the captain’s arm and halting her busy feet. “Gunnar will expect us to travel south,” he offered at last, keeping his voice professional.

  “Which is why we’re flying east,” Captain Fairweather answered curtly, clearly having come to the same conclusion moments earlier. She didn’t bother meeting his eyes, though, merely headed to the helm and began flicking switches that Nicholas was 99% sure didn’t need to be flicked. After all, Sabrina was a wind witch capable of moving the ship wherever she wanted by force of magic alone. Why bother to warm up motors when wind could do the same task more accurately while requiring fewer human hands?

  Nicholas wanted to question his companion further, both about their heading and about what had driven that stick up her butt. He wanted to pin her down and let his knack have at her until he figured out what he’d done wrong. Unfortunately, feet on stairs preceded Intrepid’s crew as the latter scurried out onto the open deck. And as quickly as his opportunity had come, the moment was broken.

  The men were windswept and laughing, salt and sand outlining locks of hair and proving that everyone else had enjoyed their hour of shore leave just as much as their captain and first mate had. Or perhaps only the first mate had enjoyed that particular interlude. Nicholas had to assume as much since the captain continued to resolutely turn away from him, her back ramrod-stiff beneath the jacket she’d pulled on so hurriedly that the action resembled a slap.

  “Prepare to cut the mooring lines,” the captain ordered everyone and no one once the full complement of men had arrived. “Without a ground crew, we’ll have to leave the ropes behind.”

  Nicholas wanted to step into her line of vision, to ask why she didn’t use him as a ground crew. He could untie the ropes then fly back aboard, ensuring the Intrepid started this new journey with all equipment intact.

  But Sabrina was steadfast in her refusal to so much as glance in his direction. And even though Nicholas thought they’d shared something powerful back on that dune, he now got the distinct impression that Captain Fairweather wanted him out of her hair and off of her deck.

  In fact, she was acting as if their aborted lovemaking session had been nothing more than a one-night stand followed by the inevitable awkward morning after. As if Nicholas had meant nothing more to her than a male body who stoked purely physical passions and scratched a purely physical itch.

  Wincing, the male in question spent one long moment watching untrained crew members scurry around the deck of the dirigible. Despite having only enjoyed twenty-four hours to learn airship management, the skeleton crew appeared to have the launch protocol figured out.

  Which meant Nicholas wasn’t needed here. And, based on Sabrina’s cold shoulder, he also wasn’t particularly wanted.

  Time to make himself useful by figuring out who was sending those pigeons. Not a particularly difficult feat to accomplish when only one person aboard ship had reason to report back to the feral dragons they’d supposedly left far behind.

  Turning on his heel, Nicholas strode toward the hatch to pay the unpleasant little blackmailer an unexpected call.

  Chapter 23

  “There’s shouting on the passenger level, Captain. Would you like me to send someone down to check it out?”

  Sabrina had been so intent upon stroking the wind just right to pull the Intrepid aloft...but not too high aloft...that she’d been oblivious to the goings-on around her. Now, though, she relinquished her final hum of wind magic and glanced over at her bosun’s mate as he stood patiently beside her left shoulder.

  Dominic was her own age, dark hair plastered artfully to his skull and clothes considerably better fitting than her own—the perfect appearance for making deals with snobbish merchants. He was also good at his job aboard ship, keeping the crew in line without getting under the captain’s feet in the process, a skill her previous round of officers hadn’t appeared to possess.

  Definitely a keeper, Sabrina concluded. Assuming she didn’t scare him off with displays of ill temper, that was.

  Luckily, communing with the wind had soothed Sabrina’s ruffled spirit, so it didn’t take any particular effort to thank Dominic for the alert and politely decline his offer of assistance. Then, checking the ship’s heading one last time—aimed straight out to sea with no obstacles in sight—she strode downstairs to assess the situation for herself.

  As soon as her head ducked out of the whistling stream of air, though, she regretted the impulse to do her own dirty work. Because the voices emanating from the other end of the corridor belonged to the only men aboard ship who she was actively trying to avoid—one cauliflower-eared merchant and one far-too-enticing shifter.

  “I don’t own any pigeons.” This was Gleason, his nasal voice condescending. Then, a crash, followed by a more heartfelt complaint. “Hey, don’t touch that!”

  “This room isn’t very large,” Nicholas countered, his tone calm but a layer of grit underlying the simple words. The shifter’s usual equilibrium must have been affected nearly as strongly as Sabrina’s own by their recent encounter because his subsequent words rang with a note of frustration she’d never heard from him before. “It shouldn’t take very long to find them for myself. Now, move off the bed or I’ll be forced to move you.”

  Gleason didn’t seem to realize what was evident to Sabrina even from a distance—that Nicholas was one step away from entirely losing his temper. And Nicholas didn’t seem to realize the obvious in the other direction either—that Gleason always cherished the opportunity to be drawn into a fist fight.

  Between them, they’ll tear this ship to shreds, the captain thought, speed walking down the hall toward Gleason’s cabin. Best get there before fists start to fly.

  She was too late, though. Because the two were already jabbing at each other with all the vigor of half-crazed animals when she stepped into the small space. And even though Sabrina was vaguely aware of pounding footsteps as crew members filled the doorway behind her, her gaze flew to Nicholas and stuck.

  Both men seemed to be having a grand old time, giving and receiving punches with equal disregard for future bruising. Which was fine with Sabrina—she was fed up with the combatants and wouldn’t have minded if they pounded each other into jelly.

  Unfortunately, the two were just as oblivious to current damage to Sabrina’s ship as they were to their own life and limb. A hand-carved knob broke off one dresser drawer as Gleason yanked the wooden rectangle loose and lobbed it across the room at his opponent. Meanwhile, flames sprang out around Nicholas’s quick-moving form as the latter relinquished his usual careful command over inner fire in order to put all available energy into dodging the blunt-edged missile.

  The scent of scorched fabric rose through the air and Sabrina ground her teeth together in annoyance. Never mind the danger presented by fire aboard an airship; the furnishings in her passenger cabins were expensive. Watching her hard work go up in flames was the very last straw.

  Not bothering to stroke her breezes into submission with either hum or song, Sabrina placed two fingers between her lips and blew out an ear-splitting whistle of command. Immediately, the flames on the bedspread winked out, curtains billowed in sympathy, and male bodies spun away to slam into opposite walls.

  For one long moment, Sabrina’s breezes held the fighters in place. Only when their arms and legs had stopped paddling against the air—and her own temper was back in check—did she allow each combatant to slide down to the floor unrestrained at long last.

  Nicholas was alert enough to catch himself on widespread legs, but Gleason ended up plopped onto his derrière like a toddler who hadn’t yet figured out how to walk unassisted. The latter’s cheeks were so red that Sabrina half expected the merchant to screw up his face and let out a child-like wail.

  Instead, Gleason’s head turned as he took in
the audience of tittering crew members behind Sabrina’s back. One hand rose to tentatively assess what would soon become a black eye, then the merchant’s lip curled as he peered at Nicholas’s untouched countenance. It was obvious who had won the battle, and the victor wasn’t Gleason even though Sabrina was sure the smaller man had thrown the first punch.

  Perhaps that loss of face explained why Gleason’s voice was grimmer than she’d ever heard it when he finally spoke. “That’s the last straw, Miss Fairweather. Our deal is off.”

  Cocking her head to one side, Sabrina peered at the little man quizzically. She’d thought Gleason understood their deal was off when she outright told him as much in that supply closet.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to remain in your cabin until we reach the nearest port,” Sabrina replied evenly, trying not to be drawn to the sight of muscles rippling beneath skin as Nicholas hefted up a mattress with one easy arm and slid the bulky object aside, searching underneath for missing mechanicals. “I’ll make sure you’re left with sufficient funds to book passage home, of course.”

  “I don’t think I’ve made myself entirely clear,” Gleason rebutted, dusting himself off as he rose to his feet at long last. “Anyone would agree that I’ve been exceedingly patient. Too lax, really. I’ve let you run roughshod over my good will when I was merely trying to help a damsel in distress.”

  Sabrina’s eyebrows rose at the final expression. She was well aware of her own weaknesses, accepted that she was abysmally slow to trust and independent to a fault. But never would she have considered referring to herself as a damsel in distress.

  Gleason ignored her glare, though, along with the nearly inaudible chuckle emanating from the shifter who’d moved on to tap at the bottoms of drawers in search of hidden compartments. Sabrina could have told him that none existed, but was impressed by his thoroughness anyway.

  Perhaps that lack of attention was what stoked Gleason’s rage to the breaking point. Because Sabrina had thought the greedy little man understood that he was making far more money blackmailing Sabrina while charging usurious interest rates on her supposed debt than he ever would have done renting out the Intrepid on his own.

  But Gleason ignored the cushy position he’d created for himself and instead stood as tall as his vertically challenged frame would allow. Then he began spitting out sharp-edged words.

  “I’m calling in my debt,” he told her, advancing forward with an ugly smirk on his already none-too-handsome face. “You will step down as captain immediately.”

  Another step, lips now curling upward into a knowing smile. “If you don’t want to match the dishonor of your father,” he finished, “the Intrepid is now under my command.”

  ***

  Nicholas had done his best to remain unobtrusively out of sight, letting the captain fight her own battles...even though she hadn’t allowed him to complete his own confrontation with their pesky little passenger moments earlier. To keep his hands occupied so they wouldn’t be tempted to settle around Gleason’s throat, he’d busied himself examining the porthole on the off chance mechanicals had been attached to the outside of the ship. Then, when that portal failed to open, he surveyed the small cabin in search of other overlooked hiding places.

  There weren’t any. But that wasn’t the only reason Nicholas rolled back on his heels after Gleason threw down the metaphorical gauntlet. No, Nicholas was sick and tired of the annoying little gamecock’s jabs and he was quite ready for the merchant to receive his comeuppance.

  So the shifter watched openly, allowing a broad grin to spread across his face while waiting for fireworks to ensue. Any second now, Sabrina’s eyes would spark with anger. Wind would swirl through her braids, turning them into Medusa-like coils, and Gleason would regret pushing her patience beyond the limits.

  To his dismay, though, Sabrina remained ominously silent. Her hands clenched into fists, but nothing else about her stance suggested a willingness to dive into battle. Instead, previously rock-solid shoulders gradually rounded and her head dipped lower and lower until her chin rested upon her chest. Unlike the firebrand Nicholas had expected, the airship captain now looked like nothing so much as a deflated balloon.

  Nicholas could only assume the reference to her long-dead father was what had pushed Sabrina into such fatalistic defeat. The unfairness of the jab annoyed him...but the sight of Sabrina’s bowed spine was physically painful. Perhaps that’s why the shifter found his feet carrying him forward and his tongue speaking before his brain had time to catch up. “How much does she owe?” he demanded.

  Gleason’s gaze darted to Nicholas, the merchant’s initial smirk turning into a pursing of lips. At first, the smaller man’s nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something foul, but at last greed won out over pride. “This is a very nice ship,” Gleason began, the oily ooze of a used-dirigible salesman entering his voice. “Well made and well kept up...”

  Nicholas rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. I asked you a question and I expect an answer. How much does Captain Fairweather owe?”

  Out of the corner of one eye, he could see Sabrina stepping forward at last, her hand reaching out to take his arm. And while he would usually have been thrilled by her touch, he didn’t want the captain’s dark secrets to force her into a decision she’d later regret.

  Sabrina loved this ship. She should have this ship. Nicholas intended to make that “should” into a reality.

  So he sidestepped the captain and loomed over Gleason instead. “I hope you’re aware that Aerie dragons have deep pockets and long memories. I want to purchase the Intrepid. Name your price.”

  Once again, Gleason looked him over from head to toe, this time assessing Nicholas’s seriousness along with his net worth. Then, at long last, he named his price. “Five gold bars.”

  Nicholas didn’t need to see the merchant’s eyes darting aside as he spoke to know the figure was akin to highway robbery. So Sabrina’s gasp didn’t surprise him. He was well aware that Gleason was taking full advantage of this unlikely-to-be-repeated opportunity to rip a dragon off.

  The price tag didn’t really matter though. Because he wasn’t the same desperate dragonet he’d been when he and Sam had tossed grand ideas back and forth as teens. Then, the dreamed-of Aerie had simply been a way to protect their foster mother from the elements. Later, the undertaking had grown into a humanitarian mission intended to shelter additional humans from the Green. But, in the end, the settlement had proven itself profitable.

  Quite profitable. Nicholas had the relevant figures all tallied up on the tablet in his own back pocket, so he knew that five gold bars wouldn’t break the bank. His brothers might be annoyed at the gesture, but they’d shrug off their exasperation once Nicholas explained why he’d purchased an airship for twice the going rate.

  Gleason didn’t need to know that, though. The merchant might as well continue thinking he was driving a dragon to the poorhouse.

  To that end, Nicholas strode across the shambles of a room without speaking, digging out the sheaf of writing paper he remembered finding within the small desk moments earlier. It was difficult to prevent flames from singeing the note he penned to his banker, but protective annoyance made the next task particularly easy since his fiery hands melted sealing wax as quickly as fingers touched the round red ball. Pressing his signet ring into the molten substance to prove his identity, Nicholas leaned back in satisfaction.

  There, it was done.

  Only when the task was completed did he catch the deepening scowl on Sabrina’s face as she glared in his general direction. Once again, his companion was carefully focusing her gaze on the air atop his head so she didn’t have to meet his eyes, and now the beads on the ends of her braids began clanking as they raised to rattle in midair.

  Captain Fairweather was back and appeared more pissed than ever. Which made perfect sense...but why was her ire directed at him?

  Chapter 24

  “Show’s over folks,” Sabrina snapped, striding out
the door into the passageway. The space before her was crowded with what appeared to be her entire crew—just the audience she needed after her position as the Intrepid’s captain had been usurped not once but twice.

  At least her captain’s voice still did the trick, even though the aftermath of seeing the ship’s commanding officer dressed down would surely have repercussions that extended long after the event. For the moment, though, gazes flew to the floor, to the ceiling, everywhere other than toward the captain who had recently been stripped of her command...then possibly placed back into a position of power by what amounted to a sugar daddy.

  The captain felt her cheeks flare with heat and she tapped an impatient foot until crew members remembered they had jobs to do elsewhere. Like autumn leaves fleeing in front of a hurricane, the majority of the audience scattered down the hallway and out of sight.

  Meanwhile, the door to Gleason’s cabin clicked shut and Nicholas’s presence loomed behind her, enticing and ominous all at once. Ignoring the Intrepid’s new owner, Sabrina pulled a key off the ring at her waist and slipped it into Dominic’s waiting hand.

  “Two crew members are to be present whenever our prisoner is given food and water,” Sabrina ordered, annoyed to hear a quaver settle beneath the words. Clearing her throat, she elaborated even though she suspected her bosun’s mate could have come up with specifics easily enough on his own. “Otherwise, please have one guard on duty and the door locked at all times.”

  Despite the over-explanation, Dominic didn’t argue. Merely offered a salute, glanced once at the shifter behind her back, then slipped around them both to lock her former creditor in.

  Which left her current creditor still hovering in the passageway, quite literally breathing down her neck.

  Sabrina wanted to flee. Wanted, at the same time, to turn around and smile up at one of the few men whose height exceeded her own. How easy it would be to melt into his superior size and strength and let him brush away the cares of the world.