“The witches will take her underground.”
I tried to imagine a cavern of sleeping dragons, all wrapped up in cocoons, but instead, pictured a butterfly and shuddered. “What should we do about Ardenti?”
“Let’s wait a few minutes and see if she wakes up again.”
“All right.” I sat on the cool, damp earth, resting on Fyrian’s forearm. Muscles flexed under her scales, radiating heat through my back. The canopy of the trees was thick enough to provide shade from the afternoon sun, and a gentle breeze blew in the scents of brimstone and overripe fruit.
At the base of the waterfall, blue dragonets swooped around each other and made pretty patterns above the pool. A blue dragon with scales darker than the Cursed Sea shot out from behind the waterfall, making droplets of water splatter everywhere, on my leather armor, my face, and my hair.
A sigh escaped my lips. “I could stay here all day.”
“It’s funny,” said Fyrian. “When I was a dragonet, I hated this part of the mountain because of the water.”
“What about now?”
She flicked her tail. “It’s all right. Oh, hold on. She’s awake.”
“It was nasty enough to wake me from a deep sleep,” said a groggy voice.
I turned to find Ardenti staring at me through half-lidded eyes. “What was?”
“The magic.” She shuddered. “The most disgusting thing I’ve ever felt.”
My brows furrowed. “A witch?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that.”
“A fairy, then?”
The pale blue dragon paused. “Not exactly. Some of the fairies experimented on us when we were in their realm, the nasty creatures. What I felt was far fouler than them.”
I scratched my head. “Did it feel like the Forgotten King?”
“In those days, I wasn’t even an egg, so I wouldn’t know,” replied Ardenti. “But a sleeping dragon would.” The blue dragon closed her eyes and let out a rumbling snore.
Groaning, I lowered my head into my hand. “She’s fallen asleep again!”
Fyrian shuddered. “I dread to think how the sleeping dragons will react when they find out the eggs have been stolen.”
I scrubbed at my face. If Ardenti didn’t wake to describe the strange power, we’d have to start all over with our investigation. We needed more ideas. A being as powerful as the Forgotten King of the Fairies wouldn’t sneak about a dragon sanctuary trying to steal eggs. Besides, Prince Vanus would have said something if the Forgotten King had broken out of his underground Prison.
There had to be another answer to this mystery, and I was certain it was King Magnar.
Chapter 9
The next morning’s lesson was Flying Safety, held in Master Klauw’s windowless room. I stepped inside, glancing at the pictures on the walls of dragons in freak weather conditions. A new illustration hung behind the instructor’s desk. It depicted a rapier red falling to its death beneath a rainbow.
Stafford followed after me. “I get why hailstones and sand storms are dangerous, but what’s so bad about a rainbow?”
I took a closer look at the picture, taking in the dark storm clouds and transparent, white spout of wind pointed at the dragon. “The rainbow was a distraction, I think, and the dragon got knocked off course by a tornado.”
Stafford glanced over his shoulder. “Master Klauw’s pretty morbid, isn’t he?”
I shrugged. “If this is what we’ll face after training, I’d rather know about it now.”
“Bluford!” Gobi stormed into the classroom, followed by Rufus. A couple of rider cadets trailed in after them. “What are your intentions toward King Magnar’s sister? They were not at breakfast this morning!”
I glanced at Stafford. “Do you think Master Fosco has let them go home?”
He rubbed his chin. “That might mean the eggs have been found.”
“They haven’t,” said Fyrian. “I’m watching the Council of Dragons meeting. No one can find the eggs anywhere within Mount Fornax.”
“Answer me!” Gobi clenched his fists.
Rufus clapped his arm around the younger half-ogre and steered him toward the seats. The dragon rider cadets snickered. I shook my head. Gobi was such a brat.
Stafford and I sat in the row of tables behind Rufus and Gobi, and I pulled out my writing supplies. “I hope they haven’t been allowed to leave. Piper had been about to blurt out everything.”
“Which one was that?” Stafford dipped his quill in the inkpot and scribbled today’s date on his parchment.
“The youngest.”
He drew a series of little hearts. “Maybe you can ask Evolene to befriend them?”
I wrinkled my nose, ignoring Stafford’s monologue on her beauty, kindness and my tragic misunderstanding of her virtues. Things were awkward between Evolene and me, as her father had abducted and tried to kill me with her help.
“But she was forced,” said Fyrian.
“I know.”
To distract myself from both Fyrian and Stafford, I wrote my name on the parchment, adding today’s date.
Although I could sympathize with Evolene, I still couldn't understand how a witch so powerful couldn’t get out of the clutches of her weak human father. She might have been isolated once, but in Mount Fornax, a number of witches could have protected her, like Madam Maritimus, who headed security, and Dr. Duclair, the head of the Healing Academy.
My gaze caught a picture of a rider falling through the skies and his dragon diving to save him. The last time I’d visited this room, such images would seem pessimistic, but after having seen the drogott match, I was convinced that such occurrences could happen.
“Your armor is enchanted to stick to my hide,” said Fyrian. “You could never fall off.”
My stomach churned. “I suppose we should practice spins or something.”
The door slammed open, and King Magnar strolled in. He’d changed his golden circlet to a golden laurel wreath the same shade of his hair and wore a red cloak over his uniform. The quartet of witches trailed behind.
Gobi shot to his feet and bowed with a flourish. “Good morning, Your Majesty!”
King Magnar gave him a weak smile in return. Piper’s eyes were red-rimmed, looking like she’d been crying, and her sisters weren’t in their usual giggly mood. Had they argued with their older brother?
Stafford continued doodling hearts on his parchment, and I arranged my writing supplies, pretending to look busy.
“By the way,” said Fyrian. “If you’re waiting for Master Klauw, he’s not coming. He’s sitting here in the Council of Dragons meeting.”
“What?”
“Things are getting tense. Riders have scoured the country, but they can’t find any signs of the eggs. Their scent has vanished, and not even a dozen witches grouping their power can find them. Everyone is baffled, and they’re starting to think King Magnar isn’t powerful enough to be the culprit.”
“Are you talking to Fyrian?” asked Stafford.
“Yes,” I replied. “She says Master Klauw is in the Council of Dragons meeting.”
From the front of the class, King Magnar slammed his fist on the desk. “This is the second class in a row an instructor has failed to attend!”
Rufus turned. “What is happening?”
I glared at King Magnar, the cause of our problems. “I’ll tell you later.”
The door opened, and a harried-looking Phoenix stepped inside. His chin-length burgundy hair was tied back from his face, revealing a pale complexion with dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he’d been working all through the night. “Cadets, Master Klauw is unable to attend the lesson.”
“Again?” King Magnar folded his arms.
Phoenix ignored the jab. “Please make your way to the library.”
“Does anyone know where it is?” I asked.
Rufus stood. “I will lead the way.”
Phoenix gave him a grateful nod and dashed out of the room. I glanced at King Ma
gnar, who whispered something to Freja, the oldest of the witches. It was too quiet for me to hear, but I would ask Rufus later if he overheard.
The library reminded me of a cozy, underwater study. A shaggy carpet of woolen loops covered the floors like a coral reef. Every few feet, sturdy bookshelves protruded from the walls like caves, making alcoves lined with comfortable seats. Above them was a mezzanine of thinner shelves, lined with books. While the library had no windows, ripples of soft, blue light filtered from the ceiling.
“You’re under the Great Lake,” said Fyrian.
“What part?”
“At the bank nearest to the Healer’s Academy.”
I nodded and strolled past an alcove where a group of healer cadets chatted in hushed tones. They weren’t the students I’d seen at Master Roopal’s History of Dragons class, so I assumed they were from the year above. Most of the alcoves were full, but I spotted one at the end of the room with a low table covered in scrolls.
“Why are you at the Council of Dragons meeting?” I asked.
“It’s open to all dragonkind, no matter how young,” she replied. She gave me a visual of an underground arena with hundreds of dragons seated on perches. I caught a glimpse of a purple dragon standing in the middle next to a silver dragon before she turned her head and showed me the green dragons from her terrace.
Rufus and Gobi strode past and sat at the empty alcove. Stafford joined them and picked up a copy of the Ogre Gazette and frowned down at its contents. Then he turned it around and held it out to me. It was last week’s edition and had an illustration of Father holding a human head. The headline read:
MURDEROUS FUGITIVE, JACK GALLOWAY EXECUTED!
Within the text was another illustration depicting a regal-looking, one-eyed giant, Father’s older brother and guardian, who had been murdered by Mr. Galloway.
“Isn’t that Ivan?” asked Stafford.
I grimaced. “That’s what he looked like without the glamor.”
Gobi grunted. “That wretch killed my brother.”
“Did you know the giant?” I folded my arms over my chest. It was a trick question because he’d been killed by Evolene’s father years before I was born.
“No.” Gobi swallowed, and his bottom lip trembled. “B-but my mother spoke of him often.”
“L-lady Bluebeard?”
He dipped his head.
Rufus placed a hand on Gobi’s shoulder and shook his head at me, as though to tell me not to talk about Lady Bluebeard. I tilted my head to the side, and Stafford mouthed, “She died.”
My jaw dropped, and I hurried to the other side of the library. Why hadn’t Father told me his mother had died? I’d learned from Mother that they despised each other and that Lady Bluebeard had been exiled for treason after the Great Dragon Revolution, but I didn’t know much else about the ogress.
King Magnar strolled into through the double doors and headed to the librarian’s desk. “Where are your books on dragon husbandry?”
My ears perked up.
The librarian, a scrawny male with deep pockmarks that stretched over his bald head, pointed in the direction of a set of bookshelves labeled ‘DRAGON’S EGGS AND HATCHLINGS.’ King Magnar nodded his thanks and strode across the room.
“Fyri, look. Why else would he need books on how to raise dragons?” I turned around to see what his sisters were doing. They joined a table of witches sitting around another alcove, giggling over scrolls. From the looks of salacious delight on their faces, I guessed they were reading the love stories popular in the Magical Militia.
I followed King Magnar to a nearby alcove, picking up a scroll from one of the low tables. Stretching it out, I pretended to read.
King Magnar browsed the shelf and pulled out books to examine their contents. Every so often, he would reach for the clasp on his knapsack.
“If only I could search his bag,” I muttered.
“The witches would have found the eggs if he kept them there,” Fyrian replied.
Stafford appeared at my side, reading the scroll over my shoulder. He clapped his hand over his mouth and gasped.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
The flush on his face was so dark, it made his toffee-colored hair look as blond as King Magnar’s. “They didn’t let us read that kind of thing at the orphanage.”
I glanced down at the scroll’s title. It read “The Office Clerk and the Ogress.” Then I scanned its contents and rolled it up. “I don’t read that kind of thing, either!”
He smirked. “It’s all right,” he whispered, “I know girls like romantic—”
I slammed my hand over his mouth. “Shhh!”
His eyes widened, and he let out a muffled, “Sorry!”
“What did you come here for, anyway?” I let go of him and stepped back.
“Rufus told me to explain things to you about Gobi.”
I nodded.
“Well, what with everyone thinking you’re Auntie Rilla’s son…”
As Stafford had come from one of Aunt Cendrilla’s orphanages, he’d grown up calling her Auntie Rilla. It was also what I called her when I was young, before I discovered she, and not Mother, was Father’s wife.
“Go on…” I said.
“Lady Bluebeard and her allies got overthrown during the Great Dragon Revolution, and she blamed Auntie Rilla for everything that went wrong in her life.”
I pursed my lips. “Queen Cendrilla hadn’t even been born when the giant threw her out of Bluebeard Mountain.”
He shrugged. “I know that, you know that, even Gobi knows that, but he grew up hearing how the terrible Auntie Rilla ruined the country and turned the ogres into human-loving vegetable eaters.”
I shook my head. “So, that’s why he hates me so much?”
“Yes. Maybe you should tell him—”
“No. You heard how he thinks he’s the Prince Regent’s heir.”
“Actually, now that the news is out, he hasn’t mentioned it.” Stafford unrolled another scroll. It was the Ogre Gazette emblazoned with the headline:
THE HEIR TO THE THRONE IS NIGH!
They’d drawn a picture of a pregnant Aunt Cendrilla brandishing her flaming staff. In smaller letters underneath was the sub-headline:
QUEEN CENDRILLA IN ENCHANTED SLEEP.
STEPPE UNDER THE RULE OF LORD BLUEBEARD.
I pursed my lips. The journalist had deliberately used Father’s former title to belittle him. I would bet my last gold crown that the article had been written by a full ogre who objected to Aunt Cendrilla taking a half-human husband. The emphasis on Father’s Noble House was a reminder that the person who controlled most of the agriculture and fresh water in the country was now its ruler.
Bile rose to the back of my throat, and I turned the page to find articles with the following headlines:
STATUE OF QUEEN CENDRILLA SPOTTED FLYING OVER OGRE SENATE BUILDING
POACHER APPREHENDED TRYING TO BOARD FLYING SHIP
I paused at the last article. Underneath it was the wanted poster of Simum Simum, the ogre who had murdered a dragon rider and went by the name Asproceros. Master Fosco had placed a bounty of fifty gold crowns on his head.
Stafford coughed. “Is Auntie Rilla’s condition the reason why Princess Alba appeared at the opening ceremony?”
I nodded.
He dipped his head so it was close to my ear. “Princess Alba was very friendly with King Magnar. Are they betrothed?”
“No, they are not!” I hissed back. I grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him to a far corner of the library. “The Prince Regent specifically said he would never marry his daughter to him.”
“That’s a relief.” His brows drew together. “Are you going to stay on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me last week why you joined the Academy. Do you still want to be a dragon mage?”
I blinked. How could he even think I would ever leave? I supposed he thought my life as a Princess would be exciting, like how
the scrolls depicted royal lifestyles being full of silk gowns, balls, handsome swains, and overseas voyages on flying ships. The truth was, at my age, if I didn’t go into some kind of military training, I’d have to marry and have children. It was what noblewomen did in Steppe.
“Of course, I’m staying. I wouldn’t leave the Academy for anything.”
Stafford beamed. “I’m glad. We’re best friends, aren’t we?”
I grinned back. “Of course.”
“I thought I was your best friend,” said Fyrian.
“You mean more to me than that,” I replied.
Stafford moved to give me a hearty clap on the back, but he snatched his hand away. I rolled my eyes. Despite everything, he was still very much aware that I was a Princess underneath the glamour. I suppose my appearance at the opening ceremony as myself had made matters worse.
“Thanks for telling me about Gobi. At least I know why he makes an effort to get on my nerves.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Stafford. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a parent.”
A lump formed in my throat. “How old is he, anyway?”
“Eleven, I think.” He raised his broad shoulders. “I got the impression there was nowhere else to put him.”
I chewed my lip and glanced across at the alcove. Rufus was deep in conversation with Gobi, who sat with his shoulders slumped. “That’s… young. I’ll make more of an effort to be nicer.”
We walked back across the library where we had originally stood. I glanced at the section on dragon eggs and hatchlings. Two rows of books were missing and so was King Magnar.
Chapter 10
I looked around the library, searching for King Magnar’s sisters, but they were no longer sitting in the alcove with the other witches. They had to be the cause of the missing books. I rushed to the librarian’s desk with Stafford on my heels.
The pock-marked male raised his head from a tome containing a diagram of a smiling sun surrounded by alchemical symbols and signs of the zodiac. His entire right eye was missing a pupil.
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