“What are you looking at?” he snapped.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
The witches giggled, and I dipped my head. Why was I being so antagonistic to him?
“Because he’s your mate,” said Fyrian.
My cheeks heated. “No, he isn’t! Father sent that betrothal portrait because he didn’t want Aunt Cendrilla to take King Magnar as her fourth husband. As soon as this tour is over, I’ll never see him again.”
“Suit yourself.”
She sent me a visual of burned locusts falling through the sky and into her mouth.
A nutty, chicken-like flavor washed over my tongue. I shuddered. “Keep your eating habits to yourself.”
Fyrian disappeared, presumably to burn herself some more tasty locusts.
The transparent stairwell seemed to go on forever, which made sense, since we had started descending at the top of the mountain. Somewhere around the middle, Evolene stopped at a stone door. “This is where we store the eggs. Please keep your voices down, as hatchlings are in adjacent rooms.”
Two of King Magnar’s young witches shushed each other loudly. I rolled my eyes. Why in the Known World was a monarch traveling with a group of girls not old enough to be apprentices? They were certainly powerful, judging by the size of the staffs they carried, but they were extraordinarily young to be trained, military witches.
I glanced at King Magnar, wondering if he would tell them to be quiet. He didn’t.
Since Evolene wouldn’t open the door until the young witches calmed, they eventually fell silent. With a flick of her staff, the door swung open, and we stepped into a humid hallway lit by gas lamps.
“There are three levels in the incubator,” Evolene whispered. “The first is reserved for eggs about to hatch.”
King Magnar’s eyes widened. “How can you tell when they’re ready?”
“A newly-hatched egg is warm from the dragon’s body, but it quickly cools to room temperature. Then it loses all heat and turns to a dense and heavy stone that can only be lifted by a dragon.”
“Go on…” said King Magnar.
“It can take centuries for an egg to absorb enough ambient magic to warm up again. They let us know they’re ready by becoming light enough to lift. That’s when we move them to the upstairs incubator. The warm environment sends the hatchling a message that a caretaker is nearby, and it’s safe to hatch.”
King Magnar’s lips parted. “I see…”
“When they reach the temperature of boiling water, the egg cracks, and the hatchling crawls out.”
His breaths quickened, and my brows rose. I couldn’t understand why he was so enthralled by Evolene’s talk. It wasn’t like he could give up being a King to work with dragons. We continued down the hallway, our steps echoing on the smooth, sandstone walls.
King Magnar swallowed several times before asking, “If we pour enough magic into an egg, will it hatch faster?”
Evolene reared back, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“Why would anyone want to force a hatching?” I snapped.
The expression of wonder disappeared, replaced by his usual haughty sneer. He shooed away my question with a flick of his wrist. “Never mind. Continue the tour.”
We reached another stone door. Evolene pushed it open and froze.
“What’s wrong?” I rushed past Evolene.
Half a dozen healers dressed in white, leather armor lay unconscious on the sandstone floor. My stomach dropped. Most of the healers were witches. What could have happened to them?
I knelt at the nearest. It was Roseate, the pink-haired witch who currently worked for Dr. Duclair. She wasn’t breathing.
My gaze darted to Evolene. “Do…” My voice cracked. “Do you know anything about healing?”
She stared down, eyes wide, face pale and frozen in a rictus of horror.
“Evolene!” I snapped.
“Uh… Yes.” She dropped to her knees beside me.
King Magnar turned to his quartet of witches. “Freja, Halle, Ingrid, see what you can do to help.”
The eldest three witches rushed to the other side of the room. I gulped. From their efficiency in casting a wide diagnostic enchantment, they reminded me of triage witches, trained on the battlefield.
“Their time has been frozen,” said the tallest one.
“Can you wake them up?” I asked.
“Not all at once.” She bathed Roseate in yellow light.
The pink-haired witch sat upright with a noisy gasp, her eyes flashing. “What happened?”
“We found you like this.” I steadied her by the arm.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” King Magnar stared down at her. He held the hand of the smallest witch, whose huge, blue eyes filled with tears.
Roseate blinked hard, as though clearing her vision. One by one, the other healers let out similar gasps. “I was standing by an egg that felt ready to hatch. The next thing I knew, I was here.”
“A hatching egg?” King Magnar said in an urgent whisper.
I glared up at him. Of all the times to get excited about dragon eggs.
He strode past us to the table, which contained several stone boxes that I assumed were incubators. “There are no eggs here.”
Evolene shot to her feet, raised her staff, filling the entire room with light. When it cleared, her face slackened. “All the eggs are gone!”
Chapter 5
Pulling myself up, I examined the room. Sandstone tables stood flush to the left and right walls, each containing empty, stone incubators.
“How many are missing?” I asked Roseate.
She blinked, rubbing her hand over her brow. “A-all of them.” A note of breathy disbelief softened her voice. “Every single incubator contained an egg.”
Healers, both witches and male ogre hybrids, groaned as King Magnar’s witches woke them from the enchantment. My pulse thrummed in my throat. There was no way that anyone could infiltrate this secure space, immobilize the healers and steal the eggs without being detected. It had to be some kind of trick.
I walked to the nearest stone incubator and groped around, hoping to find an invisible egg. Instead, my fingers waded through empty air. “Raise the alarm.”
Evolene pressed her staff to a patch on the wall, and the room went dark.
“What is the meaning of this?” shouted King Magnar.
“I-I’m sorry,” she replied, “but this is a class one emergency. The person who stole the eggs is probably still on the mountain, and we can’t let them leave.”
King Magnar stamped his foot. “This is preposterous. If I’m to be detained it will be in a parlor with refreshment fit for a King.” King Magnar turned to the three tallest witches. “Freja, Halle, and Ingrid, break through the enchantments.”
The smallest witch lit her staff, bathing the room in light.
“Don’t.” I balled my fists.
King Magnar scowled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Madam Maritimus or someone else will come in a few minutes to investigate. There’s no telling what will happen if you break one part of the security spells.”
“What would you possibly know about enchantments?” he sneered.
“I know enough about magical theory not to meddle in a series of wards set to protect precious objects.”
He tossed his head. “Fine words for someone who failed the Magical Militia!”
“She’s right,” said Roseate, the pink-haired witch. “Most security systems are set to attack those who try to disable them. Anybody with a lick of sense knows that.”
The entire room went silent. I glanced at King Magnar’s purpling face. He’d probably never had been insulted in all his pampered little life. The arrogant monarch reached for the pommel of his sword. “Do you know who I am?”
Roseate rubbed her head. “More importantly, I don’t care. Forty-nine hatchable eggs are missing, and possibly the dormant ones in the other room. The opinions of a jumped up lordling don’t mat
ter a jot compared to how the dragons will react to this disaster.”
I bit down on my lip and swallowed hard. Roseate was one of my least favorite people on the mountain, but what she said made sense. Last week, the green dragons had been disgruntled that Fyrian had been wrongly accused of murder. I could only assume that eggs from all types of dragons had gone missing and didn’t look forward to the creatures’ wrath.
“Freja, tell her!”
“This is King Magnar of the Savannah Empire,” said the older of his witches.
Roseate glared up at him. “I thought King Magnar would be taller… and more manly.”
The smallest witch giggled, and I bowed my head.
“What’s happening?” asked Fyrian.
“We’re locked in the incubator. Someone stunned the healers, and all the eggs have gone.”
Fyrian said nothing. It was as though our connection had broken. Unease crept through my insides like freezing fog. Fyrian always had an opinion on things, whether or not I asked. So, why was she being silent?
After several moments, she asked, “Are you sure? Feel around and make sure they’re not invisible.”
“I already checked one of the incubators.”
“Did you search them all?” Her voice was as sharp as her claws.
“Um… No.” I strode to the next incubator and fumbled around the empty space before moving to the next and the one after that.
“Keep going. Maybe they’re piled up somewhere?”
“All right.” I continued my search. “Why do you think they could be hidden?”
“You said the healers were stunned. We saw Roseate at breakfast this morning. The castor wouldn’t have the physical strength to carry all the eggs up the stairs in a few hours.”
“You’re assuming the culprit was a witch. What if she cast the spell on the healers and worked with an ogre who did all the carrying?”
She paused for several moments. “I’ve seen half-ogres lift hatchable eggs individually. They’re magically resistant, so the witch couldn’t lighten them.”
Fyrian was right. This wasn’t a simple robbery. It had to be the work of multiple witches or one extremely clever witch who had found a way to hide the eggs. I crawled on my hands and knees under the table, fumbling around the stone floor for invisible objects. Nobody paid me any attention, as King Magnar’s demands to be released were loud and obnoxious enough to wake a sleeping dragon.
“On the subject of Magnar,” I said, “Don’t you think it’s strange that the eggs go missing on the day that a dragon-egg-obsessed tyrant visits the sanctuary?”
Fyrian grunted. “It’s even stranger that his bodyguards are little girls. I think the real witches are invisible and they’ve stolen the eggs.”
I glared at King Magnar. “That makes sense.”
No matter how much I groped around the room, I couldn’t find evidence of invisible assailants or stolen eggs.
The door clicked open, and Madam Maritimus stepped in, flanked by half-a-dozen witches clad in navy blue, leather uniforms. All the lights went on, making me blink to soothe my stinging eyes. Her white hair was in disarray, and her lips a thin line. She scanned the room, taking in King Magnar, the dazed healers and the empty incubators. “Where are the eggs?”
“That’s why we set off the alarm.” I scrambled out from under the table. “We got here a few minutes ago. The healers were unconscious, and all the eggs were missing.”
The security witches gasped, but Madam Maritimus narrowed her eyes. “Produce a magical roster of everybody who entered this room.”
King Magnar straightened his doublet. “Now that help has arrived, I will take my leave.”
Madam Maritimus’ nose twitched, as though something stank. “The entire territory of Mount Fornax is under lockdown, Your Majesty. Nobody may enter or leave until the eggs are found.”
“Even a foreign monarch?”
“You’ll find that Mount Fornax is an independent city-state under the jurisdiction of the Council of Dragons. We don’t have the same attitude to diplomatic relations as Steppe.”
King Magnar flared his nostrils. “What does that mean?”
“This is a sanctuary for dragons. Anyone threatening the well-being of its citizens will face the full wrath of the Council.”
His face paled.
My heart made several excited flips. This was my opportunity to speak up, solve the crime, and save the unhatched dragons from King Magnar’s nefarious schemes. He’d talked about forcing them to hatch early, which had to be harmful.
I raised my hand. “Madam Maritimus! King Magnar was extremely interested in the care of dragon eggs. He talked about it through the drogott match.”
“Is that so?” She advanced on King Magnar, clutching her staff so tight, her knuckles turned white.
He glared down his nose at her. “When one is in the presence of an insipid noblewoman, one makes conversation. I had already tried a number of topics, but Princess Alba only seemed capable of answering questions about dragons.”
My cheeks flamed. The lying wretch!
Madam Maritimus shook her head. “Ladies, initiate search sequence alpha-dragon-beta.”
The security witches stood in a circle and raised their staffs. Then the healer witches joined them. When the dozen witches touched their crystal tips together and chanted, the entire room went black.
Everyone turned a fluorescent green. I spun, marveling at the glowing figures. This had to be some kind of search for all living beings. Several yards away, beyond the room, dozens of figures, smaller than dragonets, waddled around, snapping at something thrown by a pair of witches.
“The hatchlings weren’t taken,” said Fyrian. “Turn around some more.”
To my right was the mountain’s interior, where an array of dragons flew and perched among dragonets. Another ninety-degree turn showed a glowing shard of eggshell lying on the ground.
“What’s this?” King Magnar picked it up.
“End sequence.” Madam Maritimus glared at the young King. “You have just tampered with our only clue.”
“It was probably on purpose,” said Fyrian.
He shrugged. “You should have told us not to touch anything,” he said.
Madam Maritimus produced a tiny box from her holster. “Put it in here, please.”
King Magnar placed the eggshell into her box and glanced at the door. “We will take our leave.”
“Roseate and Evolene. Escort King Magnar and his entourage to the guest block and provide appropriate refreshments.” She turned to me. “You go with them.”
My mouth gaped open. I hadn’t finished telling her every suspicious thing about King Magnar. And what if they needed Fyrian’s eyes to look over the crime scene. She was more observant than most people. “But—”
“I’m in no mood for backtalk,” she snapped. “Go.”
I balled my fists, straightened my back, and tried to walk out of that room with the dignity of a Princess.
King Magnar strolled beside me. “You certainly don’t command the respect due to your status. A bastard, royal by marriage only, still outranks a security witch. Why did you let her talk to you in that manner?”
Because Madam Maritimus knew me as the cadet, Albert Bluford. I glowered down at the leather skirt swishing at my ankles. And in the hierarchy of Mount Fornax, she outranked me. But I wasn’t going to tell King Magnar anything of the sort. The more people who knew my secret, the more difficult my training would become. Not to mention the increased risk of abductions. Father was the richest ogre in Steppe, and one of the most controversial. Not only was his Noble House the largest producer of agriculture and drinking water in the country, but he’d managed to marry the Queen and become the Regent, even though he was half-human.
We trudged back up the stairs. King Magnar continued to ask questions about the care of dragon eggs. Roseate wouldn’t speak to him, so Evolene had to give him the answers he demanded.
“It’s as if he wants every
one to think he stole them,” I muttered into our bond.
“I agree,” replied Fyrian. “The real thief wouldn’t show such obvious interest in how to use what they stole.”
“Maybe it’s a double-bluff.” I glared at King Magnar’s back, trying to formulate a theory. “Last time, Master Fosco was the most obvious suspect for Mr. Jankin’s murder. What if King Magnar is drawing attention to himself, so people will think the thief has to be someone sneakier?”
“Mmmm…” Fyrian made a rumbling sound. Perhaps my explanation was too convoluted. As I ascended the stairs, muffled amusement seeped through our bond. She probably thought I was looking for an excuse to follow King Magnar around. I wasn’t.
We reached the surface and exited the mountain via the reception area. The dark clouds had vanished, leaving the afternoon sun blazing in an azure sky, but charred locusts covered the grounds.
The royal carriage stood in the courtyard. Father’s wavy, blue-black hair was visible inside. I jolted toward him.
King Magnar grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”
Heat exploded across my face, and I glared at his hand. “I don’t know how noblemen conduct themselves in the Savannah Empire, but in Steppe, a male never touches a female in that manner unless they’re related or already betrothed!”
The young witches hooted with laughter, and King Magnar snatched his hand away, cheeks flaming. “Such rules don’t apply to monarchs. I’m free to touch you anywhere I deem suitable.”
“You would dare besmirch the honor of my daughter?” asked a cut-throat voice from behind.
Paling, King Magnar stared up at the large figure casting a shadow over us. “O-of course not.”
I turned around. Father flared his nostrils, glare cold enough to freeze even King Magnar’s heart. After several tense moments, Father turned his gaze to me. “I must inform the Ogre Senate about the locusts.”
“Your Highness.” One of the security witches rushed toward him. “The Mountain is on lock-down. Nobody may enter or leave.”
“Why?”
“All the eggs were taken,” I replied.
Father’s gaze fell on King Magnar. “You showed an unusual interest in the care of dragon eggs. Why?”
Dragon Mage Academy Box Set Page 26