Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  “That’s the magical barriers they placed on me to stop my flames,” said Fyrian. “Can you feel it in my fire chamber? It’s like a stone.”

  I swallowed around a rough, woody husk that reminded me of a peach pit. A thought popped into my mind, but then something caught my attention. Dozens of dragon moths danced around the witches’ heads in pretty patterns, making the Witch General’s hair flicker like fire light. I blinked and pushed away what had to be Fyrian’s fascination, and focussed on the witches’ conversation.

  Dr. Duclair hovered above Madam Maritimus and the Witch General. “I can’t even sense her within the perimeter of Mount Fornax!”

  “She couldn’t have left on foot.” Madam Maritimus shook her head, and white wisps of hair swayed like candlelight in the wind. “And I’ve accounted for all the vehicles.”

  “Dragon back?” asked the Witch General.

  “I strengthened the fairy wards,” replied Madam Maritimus. “Not even Her Majesty can pass them.”

  “Then she’s either under the influence of heavy amounts of gravestone or somewhere that dampens magic.” The Witch General looked from Madam Maritimus to Dr. Duclair. “Are there any places within the mountain and its surroundings that match that description?”

  “Plenty!” Madam Maritimus turned to a trio of witches wearing navy blue breastplates. “Send word out to all units that a cadet is approaching the wild dragons’ lair. Keep her identity secret for now. We need to find her before she stumbles into trouble!”

  The three witches nodded and flew in different directions, powered by their patchwork cloaks.

  “What can we do to help?” asked the Witch General.

  Dr. Duclair floated up to Fyrian’s head and flashed magic into her eyes. “We may as well get on. I believe the physical magical suppressant will make the separation ritual easier on the girl.”

  Both our stomachs plummeted. Jack Galloway wasn’t likely to kill me until he received Father’s gold, but the witches would carry out Fyrian’s execution if we didn’t work together to free her. Using every ounce of my strength and every ounce of my concentration, I pushed my magic into her body and focussed on the peculiar husk in her throat.

  “The dragon is suffering a power surge!” shouted one of the Magical Militia lieutenants.

  “Put her to sleep,” said Dr. Duclair.

  Six streams of magic penetrated Fyrian’s hide. Her limbs trembled under the strain of their own weight, and her eyes closed.

  “No!” I pushed even more of myself through our connection. The bumping of the ground beneath me disappeared, and I felt my consciousness filling a space so large, so vast, so hot, that I knew this was Fyrian’s dragon magic.

  A ball of fire rolled within the strange husk, heating it from the inside. The dry, wooden pit encasing Fyrian’s fire smoldered as the fire picked up speed, and smoke seeped out from tiny fissures and out of Fyrian’s nostrils

  “Careful, witches!” Dr. Duclair hovered above us like an annoying insect. “This dragon is significantly more powerful than we estimated.”

  Master Fosco stepped into view with General Thornicroft. They were both grim-faced as though holding back their disapproval at Fyrian’s treatment. I bared our teeth, snarling at the Dragon Master. He should never have signed such a one-sided treaty.

  Anger built up in the pit of our stomach, swirling like an acid storm. Why hadn’t any of these people taken me seriously when I had told them Fyrian was innocent? This was supposed to be a dragon sanctuary—a place where noble dragons could rest without being hunted. But it was more like a prison with unfair rules.

  My anger morphed, turning into fury. Fury at Evolene for dishonesty and cowardice. Fury at myself for being no different. Fury at the authorities for being so obstinate.

  The husk encasing our fire exploded, leaving a spray of burned splinters.

  “Everybody retreat!” cried Dr. Duclair. “The dragon has broken through our ward.”

  A huge, triumphant roar of fire burst from our mouth. We were free!

  The witches flew back, bringing up a barrier of magic that encased our mouth, turning the flames inward. Fire raced down my throat, filling my lungs with hot air and smoke. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cough. My tail lashed, limbs spasmed, and landed back into my own body with a thud.

  My eyes snapped open to the sight of the stalactite ceiling. Chills mingled with the vibrations of the stretcher scraping along the floor. I’d left Fyrian choking on her own fire. If the witches didn’t kill her, she’d die of suffocation. My arms jerked, and smoke filled my nostrils.

  I glanced down at my hands. Flames were spreading along the ropes encasing my wrists. My eyes bulged. What in the Known World was happening?

  Up ahead, Ivan paused and turned around, nostrils twitching. His gaze dropped to my flaming hands, and he gasped. “What—She’s on fire! Put her out!”

  Evolene stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth. “I-I think that’s dragon flame. My magic wouldn’t be—”

  “Try!” He smacked her over the head.

  The fire continued to burn, along with my anger. I reared up and pressed my burning hands onto the ropes binding my ankles.

  “What are you doing?” Ivan staggered away, hitting his back against the wall. He turned to Evolene and screeched, “Do something!”

  The ropes burned off, freeing my legs, and I leaped off the stretcher and advanced toward Ivan. He was a few inches taller than me and male, but I was a quarter-ogre, which gave me an advantage in strength.

  “Father should have eaten you when he had the chance!” I raised my balled fists. My flesh flickered with foot-long flames.

  His face paled, blue eyes widening. “Y-you don’t mean that.”

  I jabbed him hard in the gut with my fist, hitting soft flesh. He doubled over and retched. Then I punched him across the face, setting his hair alight. My fists pounded into him, each blow landing on his flesh like a branding iron. I poured every last drop of rage into my punches, not stopping until he lay as still as a hog roast.

  A whimper sounded from ahead. It was Evolene, clutching her staff to her chest.

  Her frightened, gray eyes met mine, and she threw down her weapon. “I didn’t know anything about his plan to kidnap you. I promise!”

  I advanced on her, heart pounding, fists flaming. “Who did you kill to set up the murder scene?”

  She shook her head and cowered behind her raised palms. “I-it was a p-p-pig. I stole it from the kitchens, shaped it, and changed its scent. I would never kill anyone. Please!”

  “Why did you let him push you around when you’re a powerful witch?”

  She crumpled to the ground. “I-I don’t know. It’s been like this ever since Mother died. I-I couldn’t break out of it, no matter how much my powers grew!”

  I lowered my fists. “I’m taking you both to the witches. Will you give me any trouble?”

  She shook her head and was about to say something when two loud thuds sounded from behind. “Here she is, Sergeant!”

  The witches bound all three of us and hovered us through the passageway and out of the pit. All along the journey, Evolene sobbed and confessed her role in a decade-long string of Jack Galloway’s crimes, including his attempt to kidnap me.

  As soon as the Lieutenant realized that Jack Galloway was Bradford Jankin, the so-called murder victim, she sent a message to the Witch General to halt the execution.

  “They’ve washed away those awful runes,” said Fyrian.

  “Thank goodness for that.” I wriggled in my bonds, and they tightened. “What’s happening now?”

  “Master Fosco is crying into my scales, saying he’s sorry.”

  “Ha! I’d like to see that.”

  She sent me an image of the blubbering Dragon Master kneeling on the ground with his arms wrapped around Fyrian’s ankle. It wasn’t as funny as I had imagined, but he really did seem sorry about putting Fyrian through so much anguish.

  I sighed. “Hopefully, things w
ill go back to normal.”

  The security witches hovered us out of the pit, along the observation deck, up the stairs and into the reception area, where they had converted the chairs into stiff, canvas cots. While a witch healer clad in white leather armor tended to my bruises and fire-reddened skin, the Witch General handed me a vial of Liquid Invigoration.

  “My apologies, Alba, for not listening to you at the palace.” She pulled up a chair and sat at my bedside. “I thought Her Majesty would intervene in your father’s plans to have you sent away.”

  Citrusy bubbles popped from the elixir’s surface. I stared into the lemon liquid and shrugged. “I didn’t give her the chance, really. Father took her away, and I planned my escape immediately afterward.”

  “You really must have more faith in your aunt. Despite what you think, she loves you very much.”

  I raised a shoulder, downed the lemon-flavored elixir, and closed my eyes. The last person I wanted to think about was Aunt Cendrilla and the way her face fell every time I rejected her attempts at reconciliation. “Nothing matters now. Even if you drop the criminal charges against me, I’m still expelled.”

  The healer finished her examination and announced that I was in good health and just needed a solid meal and a night’s sleep. I gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, everyone, but I really need to check on my dragon.”

  A thunderous sound filled the air, accompanied by crackles of pale blue lightning. Everyone jumped. The door exploded into splinters, revealing Father snarling in the doorway, holding his Sword of Lightning. Lightning crackled across its curved blade, and his eyes burned with blue flame.

  I ducked behind the Witch General and cringed. After receiving my note, he’d probably stuff me into a wedding dress and throw me into a flying carriage, headed for the Savannah Empire.

  Father stepped into the reception area, sword blazing and brandishing a scroll. “Where is my daughter?”

  Ivan whimpered from his restraints and tried to curl into a ball.

  The door on the other side of the reception area slammed open, and Master Fosco stepped in, grinning like he’d already defeated Father in armed combat.

  “Lord Bluebeard.” Master Fosco advanced across the room, flexing his forearms. “How nice of you to enter my lair. I will send an invoice for the damage to your Noble House as soon as I recruit a new administrator.”

  Father raised the Sword of Lightning to Master Fosco’s throat, and I shot out of my cot and stood. If that sword grazed the other male’s throat, no amount of witch magic would put him together again.

  The lightning faded. Father lowered his sword and stepped into Master Fosco’s personal space. The two males were about the same height, except Master Fosco had a more sinewy build. From the way they were glaring at each other, it was clear that Father knew about Master Fosco’s intentions toward Aunt Cendrilla.

  “Where. Is. My. Daughter?”

  Master Fosco raised his brows and smirked. “The Princess? There are no noblewomen here. Just witches and a young orphan I have taken under my wing.”

  He walked around the Witch General and slung a fatherly arm over my shoulder. “This young man here is a very promising dragon mage! He has solved a murder, bonded with a dragon, and won a place at General Thornicroft’s Dragon Mage Academy. Why, he’s like the son I never had!”

  Father’s eyes fell on me, and I cringed. He would never mistake me for one of the twins. His sword lowered a fraction, and he said to me. “Is this all true?”

  I gulped. “Y-yes.”

  The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features fell into that same expression he made whenever I brought up Mother. “I am… pleased you have found your place in the world.”

  He turned and headed to the door, but I ducked out from under Master Fosco’s arm and rushed toward him. Father stilled, looking like he was about to take a blow. I threw my arms around him, inhaling his warm, camphor wood scent.

  A large arm wrapped around my middle, reminding me of the times he would hug me when I was small. Those days were gone now, and I wasn’t a lonely little girl anymore, desperate for his approval. Thanks to Fyrian, I’d won a place at the Dragon Mage Academy. But at what cost? Aunt Cendrilla couldn’t marry King Magnar in her current condition, and he would probably use her refusal as an excuse to invade Steppe.

  My throat dried. “What will you say to King Magnar?”

  “He will not find us as easy to conquer as the rest of the continent.”

  A breath caught in my throat. If war broke out, it would be because Father put my freedom and happiness before the needs of the nation. Happy tears stung the back of my eyes. “Thank you.”

  He stiffened. “For what?”

  I stared up into his sapphire-blue eyes and smiled. “For letting me stay.”

  His eyes softened. “Do not expect me to kiss you, looking like a boy.”

  A chuckle huffed from my chest, and I whispered, “You’d better get used to it. You’re about to have four.”

  Father laughed and hugged me tighter.

  Chapter 25

  Father stepped back into the reception room and asked the healer for a report on my health. Then he demanded an explanation for the scroll he’d received about my arrest and mentioned a second scroll demanding all the Bluebeard gold in exchange for my life.

  I explained the entire situation, starting from when I’d sent Fyrian my letter of application with a masculine version of my name, to meeting Ivan in the Capital Market and finding the pig disguised as a burned corpse in Mr. Jankin’s room. I skimmed over the parts where I’d been disrespectful to my instructors, and told him that Ivan had turned out to be the supposed murder victim and his old enemy, Jack Galloway.

  Father snarled. “I have been searching for that wretch for nearly two decades!”

  The Witch General removed Ivan’s glamor, revealing the disheveled human. In the enchanted lights of the reception room, Ivan’s… I suppose he was Jack, now… His face was even more pitiful. What I didn’t understand was why he was so gaunt when he’d lived in Mount Fornax for years.

  Jack turned to Father, his face a rictus of fear. With trembling lips, he cried, “Albert, don’t let a friend fall to ruin. Your dad will chop off my head, for sure.”

  I glared into his wide, cornflower blue eyes. “It’s not friendship if you were planning to abduct and kill me all along.”

  “Yeah.” He gulped. “But after I got to know you, I changed my mind!”

  A flush of anger heated my face. The man was shameless and would say anything to get out of trouble. Although I’d become attached to Ivan over the past couple of days, it was easy to see that this scraggly old human was no friend of mine. Ivan had just been an illusion.

  Father stepped between us. “Your execution is long overdue. This time, I will cleave you into slices with my Sword of Lightning. When I have finished with you, no witch will put your carcass back together.”

  Jack’s eyes bulged like boiled eggs. “D-don’t kill me! I know all about another plot to overthrow Rilla.” When no one responded he said, “Before the Great Dragon Revolution, rebels found me and the other prisoners in our cells. They restored us back to normal, but when they realized I was useless, they handed me to a witch for breeding. It took me years to escape with my daughter, but we know all about the rebels, don’t we?”

  Evolene nodded. “Yes, Father.”

  Father narrowed his eyes. “Witch General, I will leave the girl for you to interrogate and punish.”

  She inclined her head.

  Jack gulped. “Y-you wouldn’t separate a man from his little girl?”

  Father wrapped a meaty fist around Jack’s neck and yanked him into the air. As he was still magically attached to the cot, it tilted onto two legs.

  “Little girl?” Father snarled. “What kind of man forces his daughter to become the accomplice in his crimes?”

  Before Jack could reply, Father dragged him, cot and all, to the door. The healer witch released the enchantmen
t sticking Jack to the bed, and the human’s legs trailed after him like a rag doll’s.

  Father paused at the door. “One more thing. If Alba is to continue at this Academy, her identity remains a secret.”

  I sucked in a breath, not knowing how everyone would respond.

  The healer was the first to speak. “Cadet Bluford’s gender is a matter of medical confidentiality.”

  Father gave her a sharp nod and turned to Madam Maritimus.

  “I will inform all the witches in my employ to keep Cadet Bluford’s true identity a secret.”

  “Good,” said the Witch General. “My witches and I will consider the true identity of this cadet a matter of national security.”

  Father’s gaze turned to Master Fosco. “And you?”

  Master Fosco raised his chin. “Duel me, and I will give you my silence.”

  “You wish to lose another appendage?” Father replied.

  My gaze swept down to Master Fosco’s hands. All his fingers and thumbs were intact. He certainly didn’t walk across the reception area like someone with a prosthetic limb.

  Master Fosco stood inches away from Father and snarled, “Duel me without your Sword of Lightning, and it will be you who loses body parts.”

  I sent the Witch General a pleading look. Father never backed down from a challenge, and Master Fosco’s fixation with Aunt Cendrilla was more obsession than patriotism.

  The Witch General cleared her throat. “Perhaps the Prince Regent can return on Moon Day for the Academy’s opening ceremony? It would be imprudent to allow Jack Galloway another chance to escape.”

  Father snarled down at his prisoner. “This time, I will show no mercy.”

  “Albert…” Jack choked. “Please.”

  “You already wasted your second chance at life on revenge,” I snapped.

  The door slammed shut, and I turned to the Witch General. “What will happen to Evolene?”

  Evolene sat on the edge of her cot, wringing her hands. Her head was bowed, so it was hard to see her expression, but wet, tear-sized patches appeared on her skirts.