Pariah of Dragons

by Cordelia Castel

  “You’ve missed out black dragons,” said Stafford. “They have the best sense of touch because they need it to work with the earth.”

  I poured the rest of the honey into my porridge. “That’s covered all the senses. What about purples?”

  “They’re the most perceptive,” said Rufus.

  “Mind readers?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows.”

  “Maybe Phoenix will tell us,” said Gobi.

  Stafford lowered his head, muttering something unintelligible into his spoonful of porridge. I pursed my lips and stirred my breakfast. Just because Master Fosco was in love with his bondmate, it didn’t mean that Phoenix would go the same way. Evolene seemed more interested in working with Master Jesper than riding about on a dragon.

  “All right, then.” I folded my arms across my chest. “What type of dragon can affect people's’ moods?”

  Rufus’ brows drew together. “None.”

  Gobi snickered. “Apart from Rubens, when he kicked Muti in the—”

  “What if a dragon had scales of all colors?” I shot Gobi a filthy look.

  “Wasn’t the wild dragon white?” asked Stafford.

  “Iridescent,” I replied.

  “What color is that?” asked Gobi.

  “It depends on what angle you look at. I saw all the colors on his scales except black.”

  Gobi drew his brows together. “Maybe he is a new type.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever he is, let’s hope they work out how to stop him.”

  “And where he hid the dragonets if you are right.” Rufus stood and headed for the doors leading to the hallway. “Time for History of Dragons.”

  I followed after my classmates, thinking through what I knew. The wild dragon believed the dragons of Mount Fornax to have mentally enslaved themselves to ogre-hybrids in exchange for a comfortable prison. Someone with that point of view might think it was too late to save the grown dragons, but they could save the dragonets, who would be young and impressionable enough to learn how to see us as their enemy.

  “He seems the type,” said Fyrian. “But where did he put the dragonets?”

  “That depends on what type he is. An earth dragon could make an underground hideout.” I stepped out into the hallway lit by dim gaslights.

  Fyrian fell silent for a moment. “But he didn’t have a trace of black or brown on his scales.”

  “It’s just an example.” I followed Stafford through a set of double doors and down several flights of stairs into another hallway.

  “How is he getting out of his cage?” asked Fyrian.

  “He teleports.”

  “Oh! Because he has all the other colors including purple.”

  “Exactly.” I stepped into the History of Dragons lecture theater; a large room that overlooked a cave enjoyed by dragonets. Today, the ultramarine pool lay empty, probably because last night’s attack had driven the dragonets into hiding. I lowered myself into the seat next to Stafford and pulled out my writing material. Thinking went so much smoother when Fyrian was there to help me sort my thoughts.

  Master Roopal rose from his desk and walked across the front of the small lecture theater, rubbing the stump of his left arm. “I was going to continue with what happened to the dragons during their captivity with the fairies, but pressing matters necessitate me to impart some recent history.”

  I sat up and held my quill at the ready. Would this be a talk about the wild dragon who orchestrated the underground tunnel?

  He pulled the curtain off the board, revealing a detailed drawing of a white-haired ogre with heavy brows concealing beady, black eyes. Instead of a nose, an ivory horn protruded from the middle of his face.

  “This is Asproceros, otherwise known as Simum Simum. He is one of the most notorious poachers in Steppe.”

  One of the healers sitting in the front of the lecture theater raised her hand. “Sir, is this the ogre who killed a dragon rider?”

  Master Roopal nodded. “Alas, young Paniscus was a talented rider cut down by this criminal for protecting his beloved dragon. Asproceros entered the dragon’s stall and tried to force her to leave the wards with him.”

  “How?” asked Muti. “No dragon would follow someone they did not like.”

  I leaned forward. Muti had a point. Even if Asproceros was a strong ogre, dragons were still more powerful. Rapier reds were probably about the same in size and strength as a full ogre, but they had teeth and claws and flames to use for self-defense.

  Master Roopal pinched the bridge of his nose. “Asproceros carved an instrument from a bottle gourd, believing that playing it would lure the dragons out from their stalls and follow him.”

  “Like a snake charmer?” asked Gobi.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Dragons love the arts, and music can prove to be a distraction for even the most agitated of our kind.”

  I frowned. Did that mean anyone with a musical instrument could distract a dragon? That was dangerous knowledge in the hands of the wrong person.

  “We like music but not enough to lose our senses,” said Fyrian. “I heard she followed Asproceros out of curiosity. Everyone here knows better than to trail after a strange musician now.”

  I tapped my quill on my chin. Perhaps full-sized dragons knew to be wary of strangers, but what about young dragonets like the group we washed the other day? They could barely behave themselves, let alone heed a warning not to follow an interesting stranger.

  “You’re right,” Fyrian said with a smoky sigh. “I used to love the palace musician. It took several years for me to focus on other things while the music played.”

  “Mother taught me the pipe. Would you like me to come to your stall and play sometimes?”

  “Would you?” her voice raised several octaves.

  “Of course.”

  Stafford gave me a nudge, returning my focus to the lecture. I glanced at his notes, which were already half a page long. Sending him a silent word of thanks, I dipped my quill into the ink pot and scribbled down what he had written.

  “Why doesn’t the head of his Noble House deal with Asproceros?” asked one of the healer cadets, a quarter-ogre with curly, blond hair.

  “It is now defunct and in disgrace,” replied Master Roopal.

  “Which one is it?” the cadet asked.

  “The former House of Rhinoceros.”

  Stafford raised his hand. “B-but… b-but…”

  “Yes?” Master Roopal gave him a nod of encouragement.

  “But Mount Fornax was built on the former grounds of Rhinoceros.”

  “Indeed. Some believe he poaches from dragons because they now own what used to belong to his kin.”

  I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. At least the reason why Asproceros kept returning to Mount Fornax made sense. The history between the Royal Houses of Rhinoceros and Suidae were complicated, starting from Aunt Cendrilla’s grandmother. I shook my head. This wasn’t the time to dredge up centuries-old history. A deadly poacher with a grudge might have infiltrated the mountain and could kill again if someone got in his way.

  Rufus grunted. “If the House of Rhinoceros had not plotted against Her Majesty, they still might have a home.”

  Master Roopal smiled. “It is lucky for us dragons that they did, then.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and a thin man wearing a homespun tunic stepped inside. “A message for Rufus Griffon.”

  “Here.” Master Roopal gestured at Rufus.

  The messenger descended the stairs and stopped at our level. He handed Rufus a small scroll and walked away. Rufus cracked it open, scanned his contents and turned around. “Which brother is injured?”

  A spasm of fear squeezed my heart. Niger!

  “Sorry.” The messenger shrugged. “They didn’t tell me.”

  Fingers trembling, I stuffed my writing equipment into my knapsack and nudged Stafford to swing his legs to the side to let me pass. “I’m coming with you.” Rufus cast an absent glance in my direction an
d pulled himself to his feet. I whispered to Gobi, “Will you be able to pack his bag at the end of the class?”

  He sat up straighter and gave me a grim nod. “Please tell us what happened. All his brothers are very nice.”

  “All right.”

  Rufus and I left the History of Dragons class, and we walked in silence through the hallways. As soon as we reached the terrace, and the door clicked shut, he asked, “What is between you and my brother?”

  Cold shock spread across my belly, making me catch my breath. “Which one?”

  “Do not feign ignorance, Bluford.”

  My gaze darted around the terrace and over the clump of sunflowers that seemed to lean in to hear my reply. I stared down at the chamomile lawn. Rufus was a lot more observant than the average warrior. He must have seen Niger touching my hand.

  I forced myself to breathe. “I’m the reserve keeper in the—”

  “No.”

  “What, then?”

  “Niger has a lot of friends but none he treasures as much as you.”

  I raised my shoulders into a shrug. “You take care of Gobi like he’s a little brother. Maybe Niger’s doing the same for me.”

  “Gobi is twelve and recently lost his mother. You are seventeen and have both parents.”

  We walked across the lawn in silence, feet crunching the flowers underfoot. What could I say? Any lie I might be able to concoct under this amount of pressure would be so transparent, he would suspect Niger of doing worse than consorting with a Princess in disguise. But if I told the truth, Rufus might report me to someone who could cause me a lot of trouble.

  “You should tell him,” said Fyrian. “Then he’ll stop asking questions.”

  “And start telling me off for taking a boy’s space at the Dragon Mage Academy. You know what he’s like.”

  She gave me a mental shrug. “The news will come out sooner or later. It’s best that you have a few allies who already know and don’t care.”

  I chewed my lip. She was right.

  “There is something I need to tell you,” I said in a small voice.

  “If it is related to why King Magnar is equally as obsessed with you as he is with Princess Alba, I already know.”

  My feet ground to a halt. “How?”

  “Princess Alba demonstrated her fire magic in the opening ceremony. Only a trained mage could have done that. The name Albert Bluford is too similar to Alba Bluebeard. And for the last few weeks, Niger looks at nobody but you.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t anyone else notice?”

  “I only noticed when the loyalty elixir wore off. He tried to kiss you even when he heard Master Jesper’s explanation that Princess Alba was Bluford all along.”

  “Right.” I dipped my head and continued walking down the terrace.

  “Your actions could get my brother executed,” said Rufus. “Half-ogre males should not consort with witches.”

  The words hit me like a boulder. Even though the only thing I shared with witches was my gender and being a quarter-ogre, I supposed someone worried about his brother’s wellbeing would categorize me with the most protected species in all of Steppe.

  He stamped on a stone, activating an upward flight of stairs. “If you care about Niger, you will break things off.”

  Anguish twisted at my heart, making me rub at my chest. I had only just gotten to know Niger, and already, he’d become one of the most important people in my life. But I couldn’t hang onto him and risk his neck.

  Fyrian let out a smoky sigh. “He’s right, you know. There was a case at the Ogre Senate where a witch ran away with a half-ogre. They got married in Volcania, but the baby killed her. When the witch’s family tracked the half-ogre down, the Magistratus had him executed.”

  Swallowing hard, I followed Rufus up the stairs.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “It is like I said to you the first time the witches arrested you. Your mother may not be the Queen of Steppe, but your father is the Prince Regent, who protects you from your recklessness. Even a member of a Noble House will not be immune to the Bluebeard wrath if anything untoward happened between you and my brother.”

  The truth in his words hit like a boulder to the gut. Both Mother and Father had killed people who had hurt me. “I-I’ll talk to him.”

  “And if Niger decides you are worth the risk?”

  “I won’t let this continue, but please… give me time to break things off nicely.”

  “Very well.” He strode ahead in silence, leaving me trailing behind, dread and despair wallowing within my gut.

  At the Healer’s Academy building, a receptionist directed us to a hospital room much like the one I had stayed in when I’d contracted Fyrian’s clearscale symptoms. We both paused at the door before knocking. My frantic heart shook my bones to the marrow. What if Asproceros had maimed Niger, or even killed him?

  Rufus opened the door, and Niger glanced up from where he sat at the foot of the bed. My spine sagged with relief, and I emptied my lungs in a single breath. My gaze fell onto the figure on the bed. It was Livens, the brother I had met at the Healer’s Academy whose dragon had been bitten by a sea serpent.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Niger stood. “Somebody hit him with the full strength of an ogre, and he smashed every single bone in his face on the wall and lost his teeth.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “He has been healed, but they are keeping him in a deep sleep so his mind can process the shock while he slumbers.”

  He guided me to the bench next to him, and we sat. Since Rufus was the only other conscious person in the room and already knew my secret, I slipped my hand into Niger’s. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  He nodded. “Whoever did this will pay.”

  The door slammed open, and I yanked my hand out of Niger’s grip. Masters Fosco and Hyacinthus entered the room, followed by Brunus, Virens, Albens, and a half-ogre female with the same auburn colored hair as the Griffon brothers. She held the hand of a boy about the same age as Gobi, with auburn fluff on his cheeks.

  “Lady Griffon,” said Master Fosco. “I apologize for meeting under such unhappy circumstances.”

  “Will he be all right?” she asked.

  Master Hyacinthus cleared his throat. “I healed Livens personally with the help of Dr. Duclair. All the bones are mended, and we’re just giving him a little time to mentally convalesce.”

  She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “When will you catch this wretched Asproceros? If he kills again, I will withdraw every single boy of mine serving in your sanctuary.”

  The Griffon brothers all scowled, including the youngest. Master Fosco explained that Madam Maritimus had set traps for Asproceros, but Lady Griffon demanded that every single warrior and civilian hunt for the poacher so she could execute him herself.

  “We don’t think it’s the ogre,” I whispered to Niger. “That wild dragon has to be the one attacking everyone.”

  “What did you say?” asked Lady Griffon.

  I repeated my words.

  Mater Fosco snarled. “I am not sure why Cadet Bluford is bothering your family with wild theories. Only purple dragons can teleport, and the wild dragon dwells behind two layers of runes that prevent teleportation inside and outside his cage.”

  “I see…” the half-ogress narrowed her eyes. “Is Bluford a minor house from Steppe or elsewhere?”

  I jumped to my feet and bowed. Hopefully, whispering didn’t count as doing anything untoward that could get me expelled. “My apologies, Lady Griffon. I will take my leave.”

  Chapter 11

  I hurried out of the room and down to the end of the hallway, glancing over my shoulder for signs of Lady Griffon or a furious Master Fosco.

  “You should have stayed and explained what you meant about the wild dragon,” said Fyrian. “He’s behind all the violence, not that poacher.”

  “Right.” I galloped down the stairs. “Then she’d want to know why I was sitting next to Nige
r instead of my classmate, and Rufus would have to tell her I was Princess Alba in disguise. Then Lady Griffin would throw herself at Father’s mercy and beg for her son’s life.”

  “Hmmm…”

  Fyrian wasn’t disagreeing with me, so I continued my speculation. “Next, Father would lock me up somewhere as he had threatened, and I’d be so desperate for company, I’d allow King Magnar to rescue me. And that would result in some kind of double damsel denial, where I ended up his magically obedient concubine and lived in his tower between battles.”

  “Possible, but morbid,” she said.

  “And King Magnar would place you in a lower level with a better view, or something.”

  Fyrian sent me a mental prod. “Wait until you get Niger on his own and tell him why he’s putting himself in danger.”

  I swallowed. “I hadn’t thought of things from the Griffon point of view. People have been executed for much less than kissing a Princess.”

  “Maybe if your mother had explained things that way, you might have thought twice about kissing Niger all those times.”

  “It was only twice.” I hurried down the hallway.

  “It would have been three times if you hadn’t found the four unconscious grooms.”

  I pushed the laboratory door open, and a gust of foul air filled my lungs, making my mind summersault. The alchemical markings on the walls blurred, then my vision sharpened back to normal. I rocked back on my heels, arms splayed out for balance.

  Evolene rushed to the door and grabbed my arm. “A-are you all right?”

  I leaned onto her tiny frame. “What in the Known World was that?”

  “You’d better sit.” She guided me out of the room and back into the hallway.

  I slumped against a wall and slid down onto my behind. Another burst of dizziness rocked my body, and I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Ugh. What’s happening to me?”