“What information did the spriggan reveal?” whispered King Magnar.
“The location of its master’s secret cache of dragons, spriggans, and cursed artifacts. Everything in the King’s arsenal to overthrow his wife. With these confiscated, the Queen and her soldiers stripped the King of his powers and banished him deep into the earth.”
“Why didn’t they kill him?”
“Fairies are immortal.”
“But what about cutting them up into little pieces and burning them?”
Master Roopal shook his head. “Such lengths would not keep a fairy dead.”
“Why not?” King Magnar’s voice rose several octaves. “I don’t understand why the Forgotten King wasn’t destroyed.”
I furrowed my brow, leaning back to get a better look at his stricken face. Sweat beaded on his brow, darkening his blonde hair. Why did this story affect him so much?
“Even if you fail to utter his name, talking of him with such passion will awaken him from his slumber.”
King Magnar’s face paled, and his features went slack.
“Do you know anything about this?” I asked Fyrian.
“Only what I learned from eavesdropping on Master Roopal’s classes. None of the older dragons would talk about the King… Or his golden dragon.”
Nodding, I stared at King Magnar, whose skin was the pallor of day-old cod. Was he regretting having stolen the eggs because the dragons had once belonged to this King? I would have to watch him closely to discover what else he inadvertently revealed.
Chapter 8
The class continued with Master Roopal deflecting King Magnar’s questions about the Forgotten King and dragon eggs. Every time the brattish monarch opened his mouth, all the other cadets groaned. Even the youngest of his entourage of witches fell asleep leaning on her sister’s shoulder. Stifling a yawn, I stared beyond the transparent wall at the dragonets frolicking in the ultramarine pool.
“King Magnar!” Master Roopal’s sharp voice snapped me out of my stupor. “Unless you wish to find the Savannah Empire plagued with spriggans, I suggest you drop the subject!”
“Tutors must divulge all information.” King Magnar folded his arms across his chest. “Answer now, or I will shout the word, ‘spriggan’ until one of them appears!”
“Oh, no.” The older male’s cyan eyes gleamed. “They would not dare face the wrath of dragonkind. And even if the creatures breached the fairy wards of Mount Fornax, they would attach themselves to the one who shows most interest in summoning their dark master.”
King Magnar’s bottom lip wobbled, and his face turned ashen.
Still staring at the King, Master Roopal said, “Class dismissed.”
I stuffed my writing supplies into my knapsack and was the first to rush out of the room. The corridors were a blur as I sped back to Fyrian’s side. She’d heard the entire lecture, and we were both eager to discuss how King Magnar could have stolen the eggs.
Outside, the morning sun blazed down onto the grassy terraces, overheating my pale skin. I ducked my head, hiding my face behind a curtain of magically darkened hair and hurried into Fyrian’s stall.
Fyrian lay on her side, legs stretched out like a green lion lounging after a day of hunting. A mane of scale-covered horns framed her face, giving her a regal air. In the shade, her scales reminded me of a pine forest on a starry night. Her scarlet eyes locked with mine, and she stretched out her neck to sniff at the space above my head.
I reached up, patting one of the olive-colored horns ringing her chin. “Hey, what did you think—”
A violet streak darted out from behind her foreleg and skittered out of the stall.
“Was that a dragonet?” I asked.
“Sort of,” she replied.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a cat now.”
“Oh, the purple dragonet that got in the way of Aunt Cendrilla’s magic. What did it want?”
“We used to play together when I was small.”
On the right wall of her stall was a water trough made of sandstone. I rested my back against it and folded my arms. “It didn’t have to leave.”
“It was ashamed, I suppose.” Fyrian stretched, resting her head on the floor. She stared at me with crimson eyes the size of my head. “Are you hiding from King Magnar?”
“A person can only stand so much of an arrogant dolt.”
“What did you think of all that talk of dark fairies?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Stretching out my arms, I yawned. “It sounds like he wanted to learn how to kill fairies with the dragons he’ll raise from the stolen eggs. Maybe he’s going to invade Elphame when he’s finished with Steppe.”
“You think he’s behind the locusts.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence, don’t you think? Agricultural witches eradicated locusts centuries ago, but they returned the day he visited Mount Fornax.”
Fyrian sighed, letting out a curl of sulfur-scented smoke through her nostrils. “The question isn’t who stole the eggs, it’s how he did it, and where he hid them. If he raises them to become his army, it will be a disaster.”
“We have to stop him!” I pushed myself off the trough and walked toward her.
“How?”
“I don’t know…” I ran my hands through my hair. “Maybe one of the witches can give me more information.”
Her brows rose. “The four giggling little girls?”
“Actually, I was thinking of Evolene or Roseate. They’re both investigating the missing eggs, but I could start with questioning his witches.”
“Good luck,” said Fyrian.
“Thanks!” I rushed out of her stall and jogged along the terrace. The green dragons gave me snorts of acknowledgment, and I waved at them as I passed. They were probably still impressed with how I had broken Fyrian out of her cell when she had been facing execution for a murder she hadn’t committed.
The lack of warriors in the mess hall made the place quiet and dreary. Even the servers looked depressed. Eyepatch slouched behind a giant tureen of what looked like boar’s feet stew, from the look of the massive trotters protruding from the pale, brown liquid.
Cadets sat at far tables in their academy groups, chatting in hushed voices over their lunches. In the corner, King Magnar slumped next to Gobi, who appeared to be boring him with an outlandish tale, based on the stooped postures and blank expressions on Rufus and Stafford’s faces.
I walked toward the four witches sitting at an adjacent table. It was laden with a platter that had obviously come from the witches’ dining room next door. The sight of fresh fruit slices, cherry tomatoes, olives, chunks of cheeses and cooked meat made my mouth water. The eldest witch poured blueberry wine from a crystal pitcher, reminding me of the meals they served at the Magical Militia.
About a yard away from the table, I clicked my heels, giving them what I hoped would be a courtly bow. “May I have the honor of your company, My Ladies?”
The three younger ones tittered behind their napkins, while the oldest, who looked about fifteen, tapped down her blonde curls. “Of course.”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” I said in a gallant voice. It was the type used by one of Aunt Cendrilla’s friends who wrote romantic scrolls. “My name is Albert Bluford.”
They all burst into giggles.
Making sure to keep an empty place between myself and the oldest girl, I eased myself into a seat opposite the witches. “How did you like this morning’s class?”
“Are you really Prince Robert?” asked the youngest one. A dusting of freckles covered her pert, little nose.
I raised a shoulder. “Any resemblance is a coincidence.”
“But we heard that you can talk to dragons,” said her older sister. “That’s a fairy thing, isn’t it?”
“Only one dragon,” I replied.
The youngest bounced in her seat. “Can we meet him?”
“Her.”
They all leaned forward, eyes wide
, as though waiting to hear a bedtime story. Even the eldest one had that look of hungry anticipation in her blue eyes.
“Um… All right.”
“My name is Freja,” said the oldest. She pointed at her sisters, starting with the next oldest and ending with the youngest. “This is Halle, Ingrid, and Piper.”
I inclined my head. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, My Ladies.”
“Aren’t you going to kiss our hands?” asked Piper.
“In Steppe, it’s bad manners for a male to touch a female outside his family.”
They all shared confused looks, but the youngest leaned forward, eyes wide. “Is that because ogres are improper?”
The others stared at me with the kind of look witches gave each other when sharing salacious gossip. If I didn’t deliver something to satisfy their thirst for the scandalous, they’d lose interest in speaking to me.
“Err…” I rubbed the back of my head. “Something like that.”
“Help yourself to our food,” said Freja. Her brows puckered. “Maybe you only eat meat?”
I shook my head. “I’m only a quarter ogre. I like fruit and vegetables, too.”
“Do you get that from your mother?”
I shrugged. Both Mother and Aunt Cendrilla ate fruit. “We all like it in our family.”
Before they could ask me a round of intrusive questions to uncover my true identity, I asked, “Are you four sisters?”
They beamed. Piper glanced at the adjacent table. “Maggie’s our older brother.”
I slid my gaze to the other table. King Magnar had stopped eating to glower at me. Gobi and Rufus gaped. Only Stafford, who knew I wasn’t trying to court any of the four young witches, continued with his meal.
“Your brother, eh?” I ignored the daggers he was sending me with his eyes. “He was asking a lot of questions about dragons this morning.”
“That’s because we’re going to—” Piper jolted, as though someone had kicked her under the table.
Freja gave me her brightest smile. “It’s a history of dragons lesson, and we’re in an Academy of Dragons on a dragon sanctuary. There’s nothing else to talk about but dragons.”
“See if you can get the little one on her own,” whispered Fyrian.
“Definitely,” I replied.
“Where did you say you were from?” Freja leaned toward me, chin resting on her hand and fluttering her long, honey-colored lashes.
“The United Kingdom of Seven.” King Magnar plonked himself in the seat between Freja and me. “What are your intentions toward my sisters?”
The young witches erupted into a mass of blushes and giggles.
I reached across the table and grabbed a slice of wheat bread and took my time in buttering it. Heat radiated from the scowling monarch, but I picked a few pieces of the cured meats and placed them on the bread. “Did it occur to you that I prefer the company of ladies?”
He folded his arms. “It’s a funny type of man who keeps the company of Princesses instead of a King.”
I took a cherry tomato and popped it into my mouth.
King Magnar’s breathing became heavy, like a bull about to charge. From the corner of my eye, I peered at his clenched fists. I had to be ready with my sword in case he decided to attack.
“Bluford.”
I turned around. It was a large half-ogre cadet with the same auburn hair as Rufus, except his was longer. “Yes?”
He held out his hand. “Niger Griffon. Captain of the drogott team.”
“Oh, the brother with the yellow dragon!” I stood and gave him a firm handshake. He squeezed the feeling out of my hand, I and squeezed back, trying not to wince. It was typical ogre behavior to establish dominance with a crushing grip. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Rufus tells me you can communicate with your dragon.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“Our keeper will graduate at the end of the year. The mage’s team would benefit from a player with two sets of eyes. You and your dragon should come and play reserve.”
My mouth dried. “I’ll have to ask Fyrian.”
Niger nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “I will wait.”
“Oh.” He wanted me to speak to her straight away. “Hold on a second.”
The girls made impressed noises, and I let my eyes unfocus.
“What do you think?” I asked Fyrian.
“When we work together, we’re faster than most reds. I don’t mind the exercise. It’s up to you.”
I turned to Niger. “Fyrian says she doesn’t mind, and I’d like to try.”
He gave me a toothy grin and clapped me on the back. “We will meet after dinner.”
After an awkward lunch of King Magnar watching me for signs of impropriety toward his sisters, we walked a few rooms down the terrace to the magecraft room. Instead of the imposing figure of General Thornicroft, Phoenix stood in the middle of the room, looking grim-faced.
“Sorry, everyone. General Thornicroft was called away on urgent business. Class is cancelled.”
“Why?” asked King Magnar.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Avoiding Freja’s attempts to make eye contact, I elbowed Stafford and we both shared a nod. The General was probably out with his silver dragon, looking for the missing eggs.
Rufus clapped his hands together. “We should go to the Warrior Queen for a goblet of dragon’s tears!”
“Oh!” cried Fyrian. “I’ve just heard something interesting.”
I backed away from the group. “I’m going to visit my dragon.”
Before anyone could reply, I hurried out of the Magecraft room, jogged past the terrace and went upstairs to find Fyrian, but she wasn’t in her stall. I turned around, looking into the terraces of farmland stretching down to the surface. “Where are you?”
“Hold on,” she said. “I’ll send my friend to pick you up. He’ll be with you in a bit.”
Moments later, a rapier red landed on the grass beside me. At seven and a half feet tall, this one was smaller than the others and had a snout shaped like a beak.
I stepped back, staring into the dragon’s obsidian eyes. “A-are you Fyrian’s friend?”
The dragon inclined his head.
“Are you wearing a saddle?”
The rapier red lowered himself to the ground, revealing the saddle between his wings.
I exhaled my relief and climbed onto the dragon’s back. At the best of times, riding a rapier red was like being shaken by an angry giant. At least the saddle would provide some protection against wind.
The rapier red leaped into the sky, his wings whipping through the air like sabers.
My stomach lurched, and I clenched my teeth, pushing away the stirrings of nausea. “I thought you could only communicate with green dragons.”
“I can talk to everyone now.”
The dragon spread his wings and glided above the terraces, putting my stomach at ease. I exhaled a long breath. “What’s his name?”
“You know him,” she replied. “It’s Vermiculus.”
“The crimson dragonet from the palace?”
“Yes. Auntie Rilla’s going to need new messengers when she returns from her enchanted sleep.”
Vermiculus flew over the Great Lake. The sun shone so brightly in the cloudless sky that it made the sapphire blue surface of the water look like it had caught fire.
“Where are we going?” I asked Fyrian.
“While you’ve been busy in classes, I’ve been questioning potential witnesses.”
“Who?”
“I’ve found someone who was close to the incubators around the time the eggs went missing.”
“Wow.” Vermiculus flew over the Healing Academy building toward a grove of cacao trees. Through their canopy of broad, waxy leaves, I caught glimpses of giant, amber pods growing from their trunks and branches. “I can’t wait.”
The rapier red swooped off the side of the mountain an
d glided down around terraces of coconut palms and banana plants, leveling out at the roar of falling water. I rested my hands on the scales of his back, letting the warmth of his body seep into my palms.
Moments later, Vermiculus flew through the spray of a waterfall so tall that I couldn’t see where it ended. Tiny drops of water soaked my skin, and I threw my head back and laughed. This was the first time since entering Mount Fornax that I’d actually felt cool. He swooped down and landed at its base, by a rocky bank covered in ferns. I dismounted and staggered off the small dragon. “Thank you!”
“Over here!” Fyrian poked her head out of a shelter of tall jackfruit trees. Close to her lay a dragon with smooth, sky-blue scales. “This is Ardenti. She’ll tell you what she saw.”
Ardenti opened one amber eye and yawned. Her teeth were as large as my forearms. The horns on her spine were thin, connected by a frost-colored membrane that reminded me of fins.
Careful not to skid on the slippery moss, I made my way to the two dragons. “How can I speak to her?”
“Through our me, silly,” said Fyrian. She turned to Ardenti. “Tell Alba what you told me.”
My insides writhed. Had Fyrian told everyone I was a Princess in disguise?
She snorted. “Everyone knows you’re a girl.”
I chewed the inside of my lip. “What if they decide to tell their riders?”
“How many riders do you know with fairy blood?”
I exhaled my relief. Only one other, and Aunt Cendrilla already knew my secret. “Sorry. I forgot we were the only ones who could communicate with dragons.”
Fyrian flicked her head at Ardenti. “Go on… Tell her.”
The blue dragon blinked. “I was having a nap, you see, and….” She yawned. “Yes, and I sensed something.”
“What?” I stepped closer.
Ardenti closed her eyes.
I turned to Fyrian. “Why’s she so drowsy?”
“She’s on the cusp of forming a cocoon.”
“Oh.” I tilted my head to the side. From what I’d gathered, when dragons absorbed enough atmospheric magic, they created cocoons and slept for years before emerging as sleeping dragons. “What happens if the cocoon forms out here?”
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