Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  Stafford folded his arms across his chest. “Are you sure she’s a witch?”

  “Staffs are useless to anyone who doesn’t have witch magic.”

  Ivan rubbed the back of his head. “She couldn’t be the killer. Someone attacked her.”

  I raised a shoulder. “It was a ruse to frame Master Fosco. Someone strong enough to beat her up wouldn’t have left such an incriminating note in her hand.”

  “All right,” said Stafford. “Isn’t Auntie Rilla your godmother? Things are desperate. Shout out her name, and she’ll pop into this jailhouse and fix everything.”

  “It’s not so simple.” My voice trailed off and I stared into my hands.

  I was old enough to remember when Aunt Cendrilla had been pregnant with her youngest son, Prince Chrysus. I was visiting the United Kingdom of Seven, when a group of human alchemists abducted me from a friend’s house. I’d screamed for Aunt Cendrilla, but she didn’t come because the baby had drained her fairy powers.

  I didn’t want to betray her confidence by explaining why I couldn’t call for her. Besides, she might be in the United Kingdom of Seven, visiting Uncle Armin or in the realm of the fairies with Chrysus and Prince Vanus.

  Stafford scowled. “If I was lucky enough to have a mother like her, I wouldn’t sit around in a jailhouse feeling sorry for myself!”

  “That’s the thing.” I buried my head in my hands. “I’m not Prince Brendon or Prince Robert.”

  Stafford sucked in a shocked breath. “Really? All this time, I thought you were pretending not to be either of the twins.”

  I raised my head. Of all the times for him to believe me, he had to choose now?

  He stood, scowl marring his pleasant features. “How could you take a deception so far! Come on, Ivan. Let’s go.”

  Panic spiked through my gut, and I shot to my feet. “Please… Don’t go. I still need you to send a letter to the palace.”

  “Why?” Stafford headed for the door. “I can’t see Auntie Rilla taking kindly to a boy who stole her son’s identity.”

  Ivan’s gaze darted from Stafford to me. He was probably trying to work out whose side to take. With an apologetic smile, he turned toward the exit, taking with him my last hope of saving Fyrian.

  My lungs squeezed so tight, I could barely breathe. The time for keeping secrets was over. I was expelled, disgraced, and soon to be handed off to a warlord old enough to be my father. My only chance of saving Fyrian was to get these two to write a note to Aunt Cendrilla.

  “I’m not impersonating the twins,” I said. “They’re my cousins.”

  Stafford folded his arms. “Auntie Rilla doesn’t have a nephew.”

  “I-I’m her niece.” The words tumbled out of my mouth. “Stepdaughter, I suppose. I’m Princess Alba.”

  Chapter 22

  I stood at the barrier of my cell, palms pressed against the invisible ward, bracing myself for their reactions. It was hard to see their expressions, as the fading sunlight from outside didn’t reach the door of the jailhouse. But they’d stopped trying to leave, and I hoped it was because they wanted to help Fyrian and not to berate me for lying about my gender.

  Stafford was the first to walk back to my cell, and Ivan followed him, face pale, eyes wide with an emotion I couldn’t describe. His jaw was slack, as though he didn’t how to react to this latest revelation. I couldn’t blame him.

  A long, torturous silence stretched out, twisting my innards with trepidation. I clamped my lips shut to stop more words from tumbling out. If I explained my reasons for disguising myself as a boy, I’d distract them from the real issue: saving Fyrian.

  I couldn’t feel her in the back of my mind, likely because the witches were experimenting with the runes.

  Stafford stopped a few feet away from the barrier and leaned forward. “You don’t look like a girl.”

  “It’s a glamour. Sorry for fooling you, but Fyrian needs your help, and none of this is her fault.”

  His gaze flickered to the window then back to me. “I disagree with those witches. A good mage should be able to send his will…” He flushed and ran his fingers through his short, caramel-colored locks. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right," I said. "What were you going to say?”

  “Well, a good mage should be able to send his or her will to a dragon. Isn’t that what dragon tamers and dragon mages are all about? It’s not fair. Wild dragons burn down whole villages and they’re brought to Mount Fornax for taming. But one dragonet makes a mistake when she’s moving to her next stage of development, and she has to die.”

  I tried not to grimace. His sentiment was in the right place, but he’d gotten everything wrong. “Fyrian didn’t kill Mr. Jankin.”

  Ivan clapped Stafford on the back. “Never mind all that. Let’s get Bluford free.”

  Stafford grinned. “We'll rescue the damsel in distress and her dragon.”

  Ivan rolled his eyes.

  “But you two will get into trouble if you help me," I said. "I’m under arrest for perverting the course of justice.” I leaned hard against the barrier. “Just send a letter to the palace, explaining that the green dragonet is in trouble.”

  “Are you sure?” Stafford reached into his knapsack and pulled out the chunk of gravestone. “I found this outside Fyrian’s stall, and I took it in case you would need it again.”

  My eyes bulged. If I could get away, the witches wouldn’t finish breaking our bond. I could hide somewhere until Aunt Cendrilla arrived and made the Magistratus listen to the rest of the evidence.

  “All right,” I said. “But you can’t be seen helping me.”

  “What should I do?” Stafford asked.

  “Put it on the floor and push it to the barrier with your foot. Then leave. I’ll do the rest.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  Ivan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Albert…I mean Princess Alba knows what she’s doing.”

  “All right.” Stafford did as I asked and made sure the stone lay flush against the barrier.

  When he and Ivan backed toward the door, I nodded for them to hold it open. Then I knelt, reached through the hole in the magic and grabbed the stone. “You two should go now. I need you to send a letter to the palace, and you can’t be here in case my leaving sets off an alarm.”

  They nodded and left. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, I rushed to the window. A dozen witches knelt around the ritual circle, chalking runes into the sandstone. Fyrian sat on her haunches between them, still restricted by the golden chains. Her crimson eyes opened, and we locked gazes.

  “Can you hear me?”

  She didn’t reply into my head, but her blink was indication enough.

  “Stafford brought me that gravestone you spat out. I’m going to sneak out and hide, so they can’t perform spells on me to break our connection. Can you distract the witches for a bit?”

  Fyrian tilted her head to the side in silent question.

  “Play dead or something. Actually, don’t do that, because they’ll think they’ve killed you and I’ll bump into them while they’re checking on me.” I tapped my bottom lip with the tip of my finger. “They’ve dampened your fire, haven’t they?”

  Another slight nod.

  “And your venom?”

  She nodded again.

  “What about your smoke?”

  A plume of grey smoke escaped her nostrils, and I gave her a thumbs up. She pulled back her lips and let the smoke waft from between her teeth. The Witch General, who had been standing with Dr. Duclair, nodded in Fyrian’s direction. Then the dragon healer flew over to Fyrian and got a gust of black smoke to the face.

  “Well done!” I said into my mind. “Try to keep it up for a few more minutes.”

  I pressed the gravestone back into the barrier, and a hole opened up large enough for me to crawl through. Then, keeping my head low, I crept to the exit and cracked open the door. I glanced out at the side of the jailhouse. All the witches' backs were tu
rned, so I snuck out and rounded the other side of the building.

  Since Stafford and Ivan had gone to send a letter to the palace, I headed toward the edge of the mountain top, looking for one of those stones that could conjure up a staircase. At this time of the day, everyone was probably at the mess hall or the tavern, so I needed to keep out of sight in case Master Fosco or one of the instructors saw me.

  “One of them rubbed out a rune to see if it was the cause of my smoke,” said Fyrian.

  “Good,” I replied. “At least you’ve set back their plans. Do you know of any out-of-the-way places where I can hide?”

  “Keep going until you reach the pair of Golden Callisti apple trees. I’ve seen people climb down their roots to access the hallways underneath.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “A lot less risky than wandering around in the open. Hurry, before one of the witches notices you’re gone.”

  I jogged around the perimeter of the mountain top. A number of trees grew at its rim, creating a natural barrier to the terrace beneath. I passed a trio of King Midas pear trees, half a dozen lemon trees and a tree that seemed to have five different citrus fruits. When I was about to ask how much longer until I reached the Callisti tree, I nearly tripped on one of its roots.

  “Right,” I glanced up to check that I had the right tree. A branch, laden with gold apples the size of an ogre’s fist, hung overhead. It belonged to a tree as tall as a full-sized dragon. Next to it was an identical tree, so I walked around its trunk and peered down into the terrace below.

  Just as Fyrian had described, the tree’s thick roots stretched down to the next terrace. They crossed over each other like petrified serpents, creating a natural stairway.

  Two red dragons circled overhead. My heart jumped into my throat. They were rapier reds. Had the witches already discovered my escape? I crouched at the foot of the trunk, keeping my breathing even. If they were looking for me or for suspicious activity, running would only attract their attention.

  One of the dragons swooped down and swiped at the tree with its talons. Apples rained down like golden hailstones, thudding on the lawn. The other rapier red landed beside the tree, and I scrambled to its other side and looked over to the terrace below. Climbing down now would expose my back, making me an easy target for snatching and returning to the witches for punishment.

  “Are they looking for me?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” replied Fyrian. “The witches didn’t send the rapiers, but Fosco might have told them to watch out for strange activity. Reds are most likely to chase down the allies of an innocent dragon for fun.”

  I clenched my teeth, peering at the rapier red from behind the trunk. It was scooping up the fallen apples with its wrist, while its companion shook the tree.

  “What in the Known World are they doing?”

  “Are those apples bitter?”

  The thought of biting into their golden flesh made me wince. “The worst.”

  “I think they’re just gathering a snack. Hurry up and climb down the roots before they notice you.”

  The rapier red on the ground swept up more apples with its wing arms, while the one in the skies shook the tree. I crawled along the thick roots on my hands and knees, wincing every time one of the heavy apples fell on my exposed back.

  Eventually, the dragons swapped places, and I took my opportunity and climbed down the lattice of roots. The moment my feet reached the ground, I bent over double and exhaled. “Thank goodness that’s over. Where’s this hiding place?”

  “There’s a hole several feet ahead, behind the roots. A poacher called Asproceros used this passage to infiltrate the mountain. It goes under the Great Lake, so you’ll be able to see vehicles landing in the reception area.”

  I pulled myself up and took in my surroundings. Tree trunk-thick roots grew across the terrace, stretching down to the one below. I pushed aside speculations on why this part of the mountain had gotten out of control.

  “Wait a minute," I said. "Wasn't that name on a wanted poster I saw yesterday? Asproceros killed a rider.”

  “That’s the one. But he escaped justice through the network of secret caverns. You need to hide quickly, so the witches can’t find you to break our connection.”

  “All right.” I ducked under a wall of roots and found a hole five feet in diameter. A few yards into the tunnel stood a beige sphere. To its left was a foot of space—enough for me to squeeze through, but I wanted to check that the structure wouldn’t expand and crush me as I passed.

  I reached out and placed my fingertips on its exterior. It was smooth, with the fine grain of wood pulp, and not as hard or as heat-absorbing as sandstone. “What’s this?”

  “It looks like the cocoon of a sleeping dragon, only smaller.” Her voice was muffled. “Back away.”

  “But—”

  A buzzing started from deep within the sphere. Blood drained from my face, and my lungs seized. I spun and hurried out of the tunnel, only breathing when the setting sun was on my face. This was no cocoon! Not wanting to wait to see what manner of flying insect would emerge from the nest, I swung around the giant root and ran along the terrace, jumping over roots like they were hurdles.

  “Fyri?”

  She didn’t reply. The witches had probably completed another set of runes. The buzzing grew louder, and I picked up my pace, looking for a door or a dragon stall… anywhere to hide from the insects on my tail.

  “Fyri?”

  Something hard thudded into my back, making me arch. I waited for the piercing sting, but nothing happened. The dragon-proof armor had protected me so far, but how long would it take the creature to aim for my hands or my exposed head?

  BZZZZZT!

  Warm, stick-like legs landed on my head and shoulder, and a yellow-and-black-striped abdomen curved around to my face. Terror yanked at my insides, and I inhaled through my clenched teeth. A dagger-like sting shot out from the hornet, but before it could strike, I backhanded the creature. Venom splattered onto the side of my face, and the hornet flew into the mountainside.

  I picked up my pace, ducking six-inch long hornets, blocking their stings with my bracers, and knocking the creatures aside, but they kept coming.

  A door opened several yards ahead. Ivan stepped out, caught sight of what was chasing me, and dashed back inside. My stomach dropped. Had he run away? It didn’t matter, as long as he had left the door unlocked.

  A moment later, he and Stafford emerged holding broken chair legs. “Hurry!” Ivan brandished his makeshift weapon like a club. “We’ll hold them off.”

  I whacked a hornet with the back of my bracer and sprinted toward my classmates. Ivan held open the door with one hand and clutched his table leg with the other, and I dove into the doorway and cried out with relief.

  They both scrambled in after me, and the door slammed shut.

  “Thank you!” I cried. “How did you know where to find me?”

  Stafford grinned and held out a hand. Then he blanched and snatched it away.

  I pulled myself to my feet. “You don’t have to treat me any differently, you know.”

  Flushing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “It wouldn’t be right, with you being a Princess, would it?”

  Ivan stepped around Stafford. “That crimson dragonet led us here before taking a note to the palace. I think it likes you.”

  I wiped my brow with the back of my hand and smiled at my friends. “Thank you both. Where are we?”

  “This is close to where the Dragon Masters live,” said Stafford. “Phoenix’s chambers are around the corner.

  “Have you seen Evolene?”

  Stafford stopped, furrowing his brows. “I saw Phoenix walking her that way back through the building.” He pointed down the hallway. “Are you going to rescue her, too?”

  My brows furrowed. Had he forgotten that I'd worked out she was the killer? I looked at Ivan for help, and his face twisted with incredulity.

  Ivan shrugged, mouthing ‘Tell h
im again.’

  Keeping my voice low, I said, “Evolene killed Mr. Jankin. We need to find her and get a confession. That way, the witches will stop trying to execute Fyrian.”

  His face dropped. “You can’t get her into trouble”

  A sigh slid from my lips. Normally, I would sympathize. It wasn’t easy having an overbearing father, and I couldn’t imagine what Evolene had endured with one prone to violence. But it had been wrong to have made it look like a dragon committed the murder, wrong to have kept silent when Fyrian got the blame, and wrong to have fabricated the note and attacked herself to frame the headmaster.

  I explained all of this as carefully as I could to Stafford, whose face remained defiant.

  Stafford shook his head. “It has to be Master Fosco. No one gets to rule over Mount Fornax without being clever. He framed himself to make it look like someone framed him.”

  “Calm down.” Ivan raised his hands. “Albert’s right. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

  Stafford backed away, eyes darting from side to side, breathing hard. “Evolene couldn’t commit murder. She’s too kind and pretty!”

  I lunged forward to grab his arm. “Staff—”

  He turned and sprinted down the hallway. “I’m going to tell Phoenix!”

  My heart jumped, forcing my legs into action. Phoenix would send us straight to Master Fosco, who would probably hold me hostage to get to duel Father. And he’d also expel Ivan for having helped me.

  Stafford rounded the corner, accelerating at a maddening pace. He was big and fast, but I was desperate. I sprinted as hard as I could.

  “Go faster!” Fyrian’s voice echoed in my head.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Hold on.” Her voice strained. “Just a little bit more!”

  A bolt of heat shot through my body, infusing my veins with liquid fire. This had to be her magic. My heart pounded, sending power to my legs. Clenching my teeth, I lowered my head and sprinted hard. A moment later, I collided into Stafford's hard body.

  He fell, bringing me down to the ground.

  Stafford gritted his teeth. He placed his hands on my shoulders and then snatched them away. “Get off me!”