Pariah of Dragons

by Cordelia Castel

  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.”

  “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?”

  “Is your name Livens?”

  The corner of his lip curled into a smile. “That depends on why you are asking. Is it about a bet you placed, cadet?”

  I shook my head. “I’m in the same class as Rufus.”

  He clapped me hard on the back. “Bluford, eh? You are the only one who does not visit the Warrior Queen.”

  I raised a shoulder. “I’m not the biggest fan of barbacoa or dragon’s tears. What happened to you?”

  He reached into his flying jacket, pulled out a sodden handkerchief and blew his nose. I glanced away, not wanting to see if the wet cloth could hold both water and the contents of Livens’ nose.

  After a long bout of honking, he finally spoke. “We got sent out yesterday to investigate a magical disturbance in the Cursed Sea.”

  My stomach flip-flopped, and I smoothed my features into a blank mask. “Did you find anything?”

  “Apart from a nest of angry sea serpents? Not much.”

  My hands clapped over my mouth. “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Cymatilis got bitten.” He headed down the path toward the double doors of the Healer’s Academy.

  I followed after him. “Is that your dragon?”

  He grunted. “She is a blue and does not mind seawater. We stayed behind to fend off the serpents with her fireballs, but a small one swam through her guard bit through her wing. One of the purples had to transport us back.” He shook his head. “Terrible business. I have never seen more than one of the wretched snakes in that area, and we patrol it once a month.”

  As we passed through the doorway, I stared down at my feet, wincing at the guilt gnawing at my belly. Those serpents had been riled because I had killed their comrade. “Will C-cymatilis recover?”

  “From the venom, yes. But she was furious with me for leading the team underwater without waiting for the witches to perform tests.”

  We stepped into the hallway, and I raised my head, offering him a tight smile. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you soon. You weren’t to know about the serpents.”

  His face split into the same grin as Niger’s. “She will have to come around eventually.”

  At the end of the hallway, he turned left to visit his dragon, and I continued down the stairs and basement corridor that led to the laboratory. As soon as I cracked open the door, Evolene squeaked and reached for something in her pocket.

  “It’s only me.” I held up my palm and stepped inside. “What were you going to do, anyway? Throw a curse?”

  She leaned back against the table and blew out a long breath. A huge cauldron stood in the middle of the room, obscuring my view of her.

  “M-magnar gave me a certificate of adoption. I was going to bring it out in case you were from the Magi
cal Militia.”

  Master Jesper emerged from the corner of the room, swirling a vial of liquid gold. “As I have mentioned for the twelfth time, you’re safe here. Nobody but ourselves and Cadets Bluford, Griffon and Perrault may enter.”

  The troll poured the gold into a bubbling cauldron, causing a cloud of black smoke to puff out from its depths.

  It burned the back of my throat, making me cough. “What are you two making?”

  “An elixir to poison spriggans,” replied the troll. “We’ve cobbled together the notes Henri left and made some amendments based on the evidence he gave during his trial. Theoretically, it should work, but we’ll have to put it through rounds of testing.”

  “Right.” I turned to Evolene. “Where did you stay last night? At King Magnar’s?”

  She shook her head. “I left with Roseate as soon as his sisters arrived. Then I came here and slept upstairs in one of the wards. Why?”

  “Someone ransacked my room and stole a bag of gold sovereigns.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I cringed. It sounded like I was accusing Evolene of stealing from my room, but I had told Phoenix via Fyrian that she could stay there last night.

  Evolene’s face fell. “I would never steal from a friend.”

  “Sorry.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “The words came out all wrong. I thought you’d stayed the night at my room, and someone ransacked it looking for clues of where you went.”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Well, I stayed here.”

  Master Jesper tutted. “Cadet Bluford, you really must take care with your phrasing. It did sound like you had suspected Madam Evolene of having taken your gold. I can assure you, she slept in a hospital bed upstairs, wrapped in bandages, while agents of the Witch General ransacked the laboratory.”

  “Did they?”

  The troll nodded.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “They probably broke into to my room, then, but it’s strange that the money went missing.”

  Evolene wrung her hands. “M-maybe someone went in after them, got curious and took advantage of what they found.”