“Why did they design wards to capture you?” asked Jesper.
“They needed my magic to get rid of the spriggans,” I replied.
Master Jesper rubbed its chin. “And from what I’ve heard, the spriggans seem to think you might be instrumental in releasing their master.”
The ward crumbled into tiny specks of sand, which seeped into the fissures on the ground.
“How ingenious!” The troll clapped his hands together. “Now that the ward is no longer needed to contain you, it disassembled itself.”
I raised my shoulders and headed toward Fyrian. “The librarian had access to all sorts of spells. With stolen magic, he could have performed them with Mr. Bacon.”
Master Jesper’s eyes widened. “H-Henri? Are you sure?”
Pausing, I turned to asks, “Black hair, pointed nose, eyes made of solid gold?”
The troll clapped a massive hand over its mouth. “I made those prosthetics for him after he was attacked by a flock of wild birds.”
I clamped my lips together. There was no point in announcing that the birds who blinded him were Mother and her fellow bluebird fairies leading a group of other birds to my rescue.
BOOM!
Thunder broke out across the skies, and the dark gray clouds, now free from the wards, spread out. Hailstones the size of peas dropped down onto our heads.
Evolene raised her staff. Amber light streamed out from its crystal tip and spread into a wide canopy.
Niger muttered his thanks, and King Magnar inclined his head.
“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t make it stretch all the way to Fyrian,” she said. “If the hailstones get bigger, we’re going to need all my power to maintain the magic parasol.”
“Tell her I can melt the hailstones if they get big.”
I had to shout to relay Fyrian’s message and to thank Evolene for the protection because the hailstones swelled to the size of grapes and clattered onto the shield.
Master Jesper squinted into the skies. “Unfortunately, Henri and the librarian neglected to turn off their weather enchantment. If they designed the wards to contain you, it’s likely that the unpleasant conditions were made to herd you into place.”
I blinked. That was exactly how the alchemists had gotten me inside the hut.
“What can we do?” asked Niger.
“Let’s split into groups,” replied Jesper. “Madam Evolene and Cadet Griffon, come with me and find the weathervane.”
I glanced at King Magnar, who gave me a hopeful smile through his bloody handkerchief. Annoyance rippled through my belly and up my gullet. “What should I do?”
“Please return to the laboratory,” replied the troll. “I was about to administer a dozen antidotes to some of the male healers when I was called away to come to your aid.”
“Right.”
Master Jesper pulled the hood over its head. “Cadet Perrault will arrive with Golden Callisti apples. Place those with unbruised skin into the barrel we set up to extract the gold.”
“Right.”
“One more thing,” said Master Jesper.
“What?”
“We need to borrow your dragon.”
“What for?” asked Fyrian.
“You’ll have to ask her,” I said.
Master Jesper cleared its throat and gave Fyrian a courtly. “Excuse me, Madam Fyrian Lacerta.”
Fyrian narrowed her eyes. “How does it know my real name?”
“Someone must have told it. Master Jesper was obsessed with my hybrid magic for a while, remember?” To the troll, I said, “She’s listening.”
Master Jesper clasped its hands. “We would like to venture high up into the wards where the witches keep the weathervane.” When Fyrian didn’t react, the troll said, “It’s a magically contracted bird that affects the weather of a controlled environment. Will you transport us into the skies and help us to catch it?”
Fyrian dipped her head and sniffed the top of Master Jesper’s head. “I want to stay with Magnar.”
I stepped forward, placing myself between Fyrian and Master Jesper. “He’ll be fine traveling back to the mountain with me. Besides, if this hailstorm gets any worse, he might get hurt.”
“If the alchemists made the weather attack you, then he should stay away.”
I chewed my lip. That was actually a great point.
Niger placed a hand on my shoulder. “What is she saying?”
“If we separate, won’t the weather go after us?” I asked.
Master Jesper pointed its staff at me. “May I cast an enchantment that disguises your unique magic?”
“Go ahead,” I replied.
Pink light shot out of the troll’s staff, wrapping around me like bandages. I glanced at Niger, but he didn’t flare his nostrils, so I assumed Master Jesper hadn’t affected my scent again.
“All right,” said Fyrian. “Let’s go after this magical bird.”
“She says she’ll do it,” I said to Master Jesper.
“Wonderful!” The troll tucked its staff under its arm. “Give me a moment to reinforce the wagon, before you and His Majesty set off toward the mountain.”
Later, Fyrian soared into the overcast, gray sky with Master Jesper, Niger and Evolene on her back, and I sat in the wagon next to King Magnar. Hailstones the size of grapes pattered on the roof of the vehicle, mingling with the sound of the panting glacier wolves.
“Thank you for telling the truth about my innocence,” murmured King Magnar.
I gazed out into the expanse of dry land. Each falling hailstone made a tiny cloud of sand and dust. Those that didn’t fell into the occasional emaciated shrub. Mount Fornax was a dark blob in the distance, covered in clouds.
He placed a clammy hand on mine. “I meant what I said, Princess Alba—”
“Bluford.” I snatched my arm out of his reach.
His nostrils flared, and his lips formed a thin, pale line. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I’m trying to be cordial. Why are you unable to extend the same courtesy to me?”
“How about releasing me from a damsel denial that’s causing me physical pain?”
He bowed his head. “I cannot.”
“You can.”
A silence stretched out. The wind blew a icy air over the wagon, bringing with it new hailstones that clicked against those already covering its canopy. The sound only added to my irritation.
“I will not release you from your marital obligation, said King Magnar.”
“Why?” my voice was half-screech, half-whine, all exasperation. “We hate each other.”
“Dislike is a more accurate description of our mutual feelings.” He said this in the kind of tone people used to comment on the weather.
I closed my eyes, pinched my lips, and huffed. What did it matter if he hated or disliked me? Both were valid reasons not to force a marriage. I was in no mood to have anyone curtail my freedom. The dragon quest had dredged up terrible memories of being held captive and powerless, and my blood still burned from the fight for my life against Mr. Bacon. I wasn’t about to get into another similar situation with King Magnar.
“Why me,” I asked through clenched teeth, “when there are Princesses, witches, and noblewomen for you to court?”
“To free my country and beloved sisters. I need a Warrior Queen.”
A hot, angry breath surged out of my lungs and through my nostrils. That explained the portrait he had sent to Aunt Cendrilla along with the declaration of war if she refused his proposal, but it didn’t explain why he wanted to marry me.
I twisted in my seat and snarled, “Then ask Aunt Cendrilla when she returns from the realm of the fairies!”
King Magnar remained silent, staring out into the hailstorm. Up ahead, what looked like a carpet of multicolored fur spread out along a stretch of land. It was the largomorphus rex, the monstrous rabbits Master Jesper brought from Tundra to feed the dragons after locusts struck the country. I shot a glare at King Magnar. The locust incident had been entirely
his doing.
The wagon trundled forward, pulled by the panting glacier wolves, whose breaths now formed clouds of condensation in the chill.
He slid long fingers through his short, blond hair and sighed. “When you entered the royal box with the Prince Regent, I was convinced you were Queen Cendrilla.”
I clenched my teeth. The wretch had been gallant when we first met, but he quickly turned nasty when he discovered Father had brought his illegitimate daughter. “I remember.”
“Then when Prince Regent called you by name, I was convinced he brought you as a distraction.”
“What do you mean?” Straightening, I folded my arms over my chest.
“Many a great man has been brought low by an insanely beautiful temptress.”
I reared back. “Huh?”
He shrugged. “How many Queens would tolerate their consorts taking a concubine, let alone siring a child with the woman? Queen Hyosus the Great was famed for decapitating those who encroached on her husbands. You and your mother have to be particularly beguiling.”
“B-but that’s different!” I spat. “Aunt Cendrilla’s marriage to Father was political.” Or it had been until Mother left to retake her position in the Fairy Fighting Force.
King Magnar turned to me, his eyes full of the kind of pity someone would reserve for a simpleton.
Cringing, I turned away and locked eyes with a largomorphus rex. Not even its monstrous, twitchy nose and oversized front teeth could distract me from King Magnar’s words. There was no need to rehash the thoughts that had plagued me regarding Father’s relationship with Mother. I’d dealt with my anger during the dragon quest.
“Your mother has to be a very clever woman to have not met Queen Cendrilla’s wrath.”
“Aunt Cendrilla wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“Her reputation outside Steppe would say otherwise.”
“What’s your point?”
He sighed. “I thought your father had sent his beautiful but utterly useless daughter to distract me from pursuing the protection of his powerful wife.”
I unfolded my arms and placed them on my hips. “And now?”
His eyes gleamed. “You are everything I need to keep my throne. Powerful, clever, resourceful and with the spirit of a dragon. With you at my side, nobody would dare usurp me.”
“Why don’t you just hire a better guard?”
He shook his head. “Good soldiers can be bribed. With the right wedding vows, a man can guarantee the obedience and protection of his wife.”
My hands curled into fists. “Backed by magic, so she’ll drop down dead if she betrays you, I suppose?”
He inclined his head. “Of course.”
I jumped out of wagon onto the parched earth. Clouds of dust rose at my feet, and hailstones battered at my head, but I ignored them and continued down the roadway. The scent of rodents filled my nostrils. I gagged and clamped a handkerchief over my mouth.
King Magnar slowed the glacier wolves and leaned across the driver’s seat. “Princess Alba, whatever are you doing?”
“Getting away from you!” My shoulders rose around my ears, hands balled into fists at my sides, and I stomped my feet. “If you think I’ll submit to becoming your forced guard dog, think again. I’d rather die from the damsel denial.”
“Stop this behavior this instant!” he snapped.
“You just want me for my power,” I snapped back.
“Did you not hear a word I said? I said you were beautiful.”
All around me, hailstones battered my armor, and cold wind blew against my skin. But none of that mattered when anger made my blood run hot.
I ground my teeth. “You also admitted to disliking me. What I feel toward you is more like loathing, disgust, and hatred.”
“Don’t be a child.”
“Maybe that’s what I am.” I spread my arms wide, letting the hail batter at the sleeves of my flying jacket. “Half the time, you’re old enough to be my father, and I’m only seventeen. Why in the Known World would I want to marry you?”
King Magnar pulled the reins, making the glacier wolves halt. “Are you referring to my Redcap Helmet?”
“Is that what you call the magical cap you used when I beat you in the duel?”
He pursed his lips. “You did not—” Then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Get back in the wagon. No amount of tantrums on your part will change my mind. Your father offered me your hand, which I accepted, and now magic has us bound. You may as well become used to being my wife.”
My back stiffened. “Is this to become my fate? A hardened warrior sent out to fight the battles of a despised King?”
“You’re more melodramatic than Piper, and she’s only nine years old.”
“What if I offered to serve in your army when I finish the academy?”
The corners of his eyes tightened, as did the fists holding the reins. “You are needed now. If the spriggans want you to free their master, and the alchemists want you to defeat the spriggans, then you are the key to Savannah’s freedom.”
“And what of mine?”
He blinked. “I wouldn’t keep you in a tower. You can live in your own castle and you’ll want for nothing.”
“Except freedom.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know how to fight a spriggan.”
“You have dragons. They will kill on your command.”
I shook my head, and a few hailstones slid down my collar, making me shudder. King Magnar was clearly someone who thought of dragons as mindless beasts. “What happens when Savannah is free?”
“Then you will bear my heirs and teach them to ride dragons.”
A glacier wolf shook its fur, spraying me with a combination of icy water droplets and hailstones. I scrubbed my face and continued walking through the storm, keeping my head down to protect my eyes from stray bits of ice. Somehow, I needed to get him to change his mind before he trapped me into a life of servitude. The worst part was that he didn’t even like or respect me enough to consider my feelings.
Eventually, King Magnar got sick of commanding me to get on the wagon, and he shook the glacier wolves’ reins. The click of claws on hard ground accelerated towards me, and as they passed, I jumped onto the footboard at the back of the wagon, gripped the handles, and rode in silence across the territory and toward the mountain.
About half-way to our destination, we passed a figure riding a camelops, leading three more of the same sand-colored beasts, each laden with sacks. The rider obscured his head with a brown, leather flying jacket. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Niger, but his build was stronger than King Magnar’s. When he raised his head, I met his hazel eyes.
“Stafford!” I jumped off the footboard and ran across the dirt road toward him.
“What are you doing?” He pulled on the camelops’ reins. “Where’s Fyrian?”
I grasped his hand, let him to pull me up, and settled on the camelop’s back.
“Thanks! She’s with Master Jesper and the others, fixing the weather.” I glanced at all the bulging sacks. “Those are a lot of apples.”
He grimaced. “Actually, someone burned down the orchard.”
“What? Then what did you bring instead?”
“King Midas pears. Do you think they’ll work?”
My insides filled with hard, icy dread. “I don’t know… They might, if the gold on their skin is the same.”
Stafford sighed. “If they don’t, then King Magnar will have full control of the dragons.”
I could have told Stafford the full story, but after hearing how King Magnar aimed to use me as his unwilling guard dog, I couldn’t say he wouldn’t do the same with the dragons. Resting my head on his broad shoulder, I murmured, “Whatever happens, we have to stop him. No one should be forced to fight against their will.”
“Especially not dragons against the creatures they despise.”
We rode in silence through the hailstorm, passing huge expanses of farmland. As we approached
a wheat field, Stafford asked, “What will we do if the pears don’t work?”
“Contact the palace and ask someone to send apples through the wards?” I blew out a breath. “The alchemist I fought told me the librarian has the antidote to the loyalty elixir. Maybe its ingredients will be different.”
He turned his head. “Librarian?”
I groaned. “Sorry… I need to start again and tell you everything from the beginning.”
“Yes, please. Picking pears wasn’t all that interesting.”
All throughout my story, I couldn’t help thinking about the librarian. Even if I had no choice in becoming King Magnar’s warrior wife and slave, I still had a chance to save the dragons and every witch and warrior under the influence of that wretched elixir. We just needed to find where the librarian had hidden and force him to hand over the formula for the antidote.
Chapter 3
By the time Stafford and I navigated the terraces on camelops and reached the Healer’s Academy building, the dark clouds had thinned, revealing an indigo sky. The excitement of fighting Mr. Bacon and his homunculi had worn off, and I could barely keep my eyes open. If we could use Master Jesper’s elixir to awaken some healers, they could watch over the others while we had some rest.
Laden with sacks of King Midas pears, we trudged through the hallways of the Healer’s Academy not finding any trace of King Magnar. Perhaps he had fallen into a ditch or become a snack for the glacier wolves. Magic squeezed my heart, and I pushed away the thought. Even fantasizing about King Magnar’s demise was an affront to the damsel denial.
I emptied my sacks in the barrel set up in corner of the laboratory and examined the large table in the middle of the room. An array of kettles, round-bottom flasks, coiled pipes, and copper tubes hovered above its surface, held together by floating clamps.
“What are you looking for?” asked Stafford.
“Master Jesper wanted us to give doses of the alkahest to the male healers. I can’t find any vials.”
Stafford glanced at the slumbering form of General Thornicroft, still encased in his orange healing bubble. “Shouldn’t we wake up Dr. Duclair so she can get that thing out of his chest?”
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