Phoenix winced. “At the time, they thought Master Fosco had betrayed King Magnar. It’s impossible to describe the madness of that loyalty elixir. It melted away a millennium of brotherhood and made us all act uncharacteristically.”
“Out of the way!” A pair of male healers rushed through the archway, each holding leather bags. I recognized one of them, a dark-skinned healer with braided hair called Alabio, who had fixed my dislocated shoulder.
We stepped aside, and the healers knelt over Master Fosco’s broken body. Master Roopal crouched next to Healer Alabio and held his hand. The healer placed a glowing palm on Master Fosco’s head. Master Solum did the same with the other healer, and the indigo-haired male placed his hands directly on Master Fosco’s temples.
I turned to Phoenix. “What’s happening?”
“Masters Solum and Roopal are lending their power to the healers,” he replied. “Master Hyacinthus is healing him directly.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. About a minute passed, and my stomach twisted into knots. Days before, when I’d dislocated my shoulder, it had taken Healer Alabio less than ten seconds to pop it into place. What if Master Fosco was broken beyond repair? Who would take care of him?
Turning to Phoenix, I whispered, “Does it usually take this long to heal dragons in human form?”
“Dragons are extremely resilient, but the others were trying to kill him with their fists and claws and feet.” Phoenix’s voice trailed off as though describing what had happened to Master Fosco was too painful to repeat. He cleared his throat. “His injuries must be extensive.”
“Sorry.” I grabbed hold of his hand. “I know you two were close.”
Evolene appeared on Phoenix’s other side and wrapped her arms around his torso, murmuring words of comfort. Stafford patted her shoulder and stared ahead at the five males healing Master Fosco.
I glanced up at Phoenix, who bowed his head. From what I knew, he was Master Fosco’s apprentice in the Dragon Master Academy. Now that I understood that a dragon master was one who had emerged from his cocoon in human form, it was clear why the program was by invitation only. Both males’ eyes were the same shade of maroon, and their hair the same shade of burgundy, except Phoenix wore his shorter, and Master Fosco’s hair hung down to his shoulders.
It was indelicate to ask, but I had to know. “Are you father and son?”
Phoenix didn’t reply. I scrubbed my free hand over my face and grimaced. Of all the times to ask nosy questions, why did it have to be when Master Fosco was fighting for his life after being brutally beaten by his own dragon comrades?
Eventually, Phoenix sighed. “We’re not like birds who sit in nests, nurturing their own offspring. The spriggans kept our eggs in a separate realm, separating us from our parents. But Master Fosco has been a mentor to me for centuries.”
I turned to Niger, who shrugged. It seemed that he also didn’t know what Phoenix had meant.
It took several minutes for the swelling and bruising on Master Fosco’s face to fade, revealing his high cheekbones, full lips, and strong jaw. The tightness in my shoulders and stomach receded, and I exhaled a relieved breath. If his visible injuries had healed, it had to mean that they had fixed the damage to his organs.
Without the scowling and sneering, Master Fosco was actually extremely handsome. Not as stunningly beautiful as Prince Vanus or as rugged as Father, but his looks lay somewhere in the middle. It was no wonder Aunt Cendrilla had chosen him to be her bondmate. In her position, I would have gone with Master Solum, who was just as handsome but had a much nicer temperament.
A low snarl made the ground tremble. Master Fosco’s left eye opened. Blood spread across its whites, making my stomach drop.
“Calm yourself, Fosco.” Master Solum placed his free hand on Master Fosco’s bare shoulder. “We are in the midst of healing you.”
Master Fosco’s nostrils flared. His biceps flexed. His fists opened and closed.
I tugged at Phoenix’s hand. “He’s about to have a tantrum.”
Phoenix tilted his head to the side. “I’m sure that once we explain, he’ll—”
GROOOOAAAAAAR!
The ear-splitting noise made my bones reverberate, and I clapped my hands over my ears. I doubled over, wishing I had an extra pair of hands to hold over my trembling stomach, and staggered down to my knees.
Around me, Niger, Evolene, Stafford, and Master Jesper did the same. I groaned. It wasn’t quite the earth-shattering roar I’d read that purple dragons could make, but it was several octaves louder than the voice Master Fosco used in the Drogott Arena. The one that needed no speaking horn.
One of the healers flew past and crashed against a sandstone wall, sending dust flying over our heads.
Master Fosco sprang to his feet. “I WILL KILL HIM!”
I held my breath. He was going to kill King Magnar!
Magic flashed overhead, encasing us in a bubble of silence. Master Jesper stood. “C-come along, children. The purple dragon’s roar is one of its most devastating attacks. If Master Fosco transforms, its volume and cadence will destroy your eardrums and shatter your bones.”
Palpitations rocked my body, and I staggered to my feet. Someone had to stop Master Fosco before he did something worthy of execution.
Master Solum grabbed Master Fosco around the middle, and Master Hyacinthus stepped in his path and placed both hands on his shoulders. They both shouted something, seeming to try to calm him down, but Master Fosco shook them off.
I turned to Phoenix. “You can’t let him reach the jailhouse.”
He grimaced. “I’m hoping the others will stop him.”
Master Klauw rushed at Master Fosco with his arms outstretched, looking as though he was trying to dissuade him from entering the jailhouse, but Master Fosco shoved the smaller male down. The other dragon masters jumped on him, pinning him to the ground with their weight.
“Cadet Bluford.” Master Jesper tugged at my arm. “We cannot stay.”
My heels dug into the ground, and my fists tightened. Even though I’d resolved to let the proper authorities take care of problems, they were clearly failing. There had to be something I could do to help.
Phoenix placed a hand on the small of my back. “You’d better go. I’ll see what I can do to stop him.”
I shook my head. Master Fosco needed to speak to someone who could sympathize with his plight, and I didn’t think any of the people who beat him up would be able to calm him down. Right now, we needed someone like Aunt Cendrilla, but she was in the realm of the fairies, in an enchanted sleep, and wouldn’t return until she’d had the quadruplets.
“He’s furious with you dragons and won’t listen,” I said to Phoenix. “Take me to the palace. I know someone who will distract him.”
Chapter 2
When Phoenix transformed into a purple dragon, I scrambled onto his back and settled into the space between his wings. After assuring Master Jesper, Niger, and the others that I would return, I patted Phoenix on the side of the neck, indicating that I was ready to leave.
With one almighty leap, he launched himself into the air and spread his wings. I glanced down at the struggling males below. Even though four of them were piled on top of Master Fosco, he still thrashed about.
“We’d better go,” I said to Phoenix.
With a sharp nod, Phoenix dipped a wing and spun. I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my stomach as the world turned inside-out.
By the time I opened my eyes, we were flying above the domed structures of the palace. Unlike Mount Fornax, the air was dry, and the sky was clear without a cloud in sight. Sunlight shone on the palace’s domes, making its sandy surface shimmer like specs of gold. This part of the capital was sparse, consisting of yellowing drylands separated by the Sandbrick Road. Down to our left was the Magical Militia compound, and beyond that were a few important buildings, such as the Ogre Senate and the very first Perrault Orphanage.
The palace’s double doors swung open, and a gr
oup of Queen’s guardsmen rushed out, down the stairs, and across the courtyard.
I gave Phoenix a pat on the side of the neck. “Let’s wait outside the gates.”
He swooped down, making the wind rush through my hair, and landed a few feet short of the palace walls.
Moments later, Captain Leo strolled out through the iron gates, clad in his pristine, white uniform. Behind him marched half-a-dozen armed guardsmen. Captain Leo flicked his blond mane over his shoulder and preened. Even though he was a full-ogre, he wore the glamor of a half-ogre with a similar stature to Father. Mother said he did this because he wanted to look attractive for Aunt Cendrilla, since historically, the Queen of the Ogres usually took the Captain of the Queen’s Guard as a husband.
“Who goes there?” said Captain Leo.
I slid off Phoenix’s back and landed on the road. “It’s Alba.”
Captain Leo narrowed his eyes. “They told me you looked like a boy and rode a green dragon. How can I be sure it’s really you?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Why don’t you use your enhanced ogre sense of smell?”
His nostrils twitched. “You may enter. Who is the dragon?”
“Master Fosco’s apprentice. We need to see Father. Is he in?”
“He is….” Captain Leo smoothed down the front of his white, leather jacket. “You may enter, but the dragon stays outside. I don’t care if it turns into a man.”
I was about to protest, but Phoenix raised his front paw and shooed me inside. I gave him an apologetic shrug and ran through the gates. As I passed through the guardsmen in the courtyard, the familiar scent of orange blossoms filled my nostrils, making me sigh. Like the Magical Militia, the palace gardens were maintained by magic. As food came directly from Mount Bluebeard, Aunt Cendrilla preferred to maintain a pristine lawn and flowerbeds, with a small orchard of orange trees in full blossom.
I bolted through the double doors and down the hallway, dodging servants clad in gray uniforms. As usual, they didn’t bow, but this time, it didn’t bother me. I was a dragon warrior foremost, and we were a brotherhood of equals.
An imperious voice from behind said, “No running in the palace.”
Oliveri strode toward me, rolling up the sleeves of his royal butler uniform. Over his shoulder, the afternoon sun streamed in through the massive windows, making the horns protruding from his brows glint like freshly polished scimitars. I stepped to one side, ready to duck. If he planned to pick me up by the scruff of the neck again, he would find me a more difficult target.
Raising my chin and straightening my posture, I said in my most confident voice, “Something’s happened at Mount Fornax, and we need Father’s help.”
Oliveri’s bottom lip dropped, revealing even more of his lower tusks. “Another calamity? It must be a terrible one if you came in person to request assistance.” He strode ahead, ushering me to follow. “Come along, then.”
The ogre’s steps were so long, I had to jog to keep up with him. There was no point in asking him to slow down. Oliveri didn’t like to be corrected, and I didn’t want to delay meeting Father over such a trivial matter. We passed Aunt Cendrilla’s study, which was empty, and continued down the hallway to Father’s bureau.
A pair of guards standing outside stepped aside, and Oliveri opened the door. The scent of sweet, woody brandywine engulfed my senses, reminding me of the cellars beneath the distillery within the vineyards at home.
Inside, Father lounged on a leather sofa, swirling the golden-brown liquid within a wide-bottomed glass. He sniffed his drink and dipped his head, letting his dark blue curls fall down his shoulders. Instead of the bandages he wore under his jacket the last time I saw him, he wore a white shirt, and his beard had somehow grown a foot. He flicked his gaze in my direction and sharpened his eyes but didn’t comment on my arrival.
I stepped inside and cleared my throat. Sitting opposite Father was the Magistratus, who sipped his drink from a bizarre glass with its own pipe. He wore his usual white and gold ceremonial robes, indicating that he had finished at the Ogre Senate.
Two sheep-haired servants stood at the walls, one behind Father, the other behind the Magistratus, each holding an imperial-sized bottle of liquor. At the end of the room stood four witches dressed in ceremonial garb who usually accompanied the Magistratus wherever he went.
The Magistratus leaned forward, making me step back to avoid his huge, triangular horns. “Is that young Princess Alba? I thought she was a boy now.”
Father’s brows rose. “Apparently, no longer. What brings you here, girl?”
“Something terrible has happened,” the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Master Fosco’s gone rogue, and he’s going to kill King Magnar. You have to come and stop him!”
Father’s eyes shuttered, and he took a swig of his brandywine and let out a happy sigh. The Magistratus raised his glass and chuckled. It was as though Father hadn’t heard a word I’d said.
I stepped further into the room, ready to shake him out of his stupor, when Oliveri placed a hand on my shoulder. “The Prince Regent is considering your request.”
“He looks like he’s getting drunk,” I muttered.
Father turned glacial, blue eyes on me. “You have become more vocal since taking up with Fosco. Is this new personality trait his doing?”
I clamped my lips shut. Father could complain all he liked about me developing a backbone. Mother never benefited from kowtowing to his every demand, and he didn’t seem to begrudge Aunt Cendrilla for standing up to him.
“If King Magnar dies, we will never get the reparations he owes us,” said the Magistratus.
Father grunted and slammed his glass on the desk. The wool-haired ogress rushed forward and poured more liquor into his glass. He placed it to his lips and squinted at me. “What are you wearing?”
I glanced down at the ridiculous bodice and skirt. “My leather armor. King Magnar had it adjusted into a wedding gown.”
The Magistratus raised his glass. “I see… the dutiful wife is securing her husband’s survival. Impressive.”
“You married him?” Father stood and fumbled for the Sword of Lightning hanging on his belt. “Time for our duel.”
I rushed forward and shoved him down into his chair. “You’re not going to fight King Magnar, you’re going to save him. Master Fosco has gone mad, and everyone strong enough to restrain him feels too guilty to do anything but pin him down and get thrown about. You’re the only one who can stop him.”
The Magistratus stood to his full eight-and-a-half-feet height. “Come, Prince Regent. King Magnar must prevail. With Mount Bluebeard still recovering from the locust attack, we need all the agricultural goods we can get from the Savannah Empire.”
Father huffed and knocked back his drink.
“Will you be able to duel him in that condition?” I asked.
“Nothing wrong with a glass of aqua vitae after a hard day at the Ogre Senate,” he replied.
The Magistratus’ eyes twinkled. “Indeed, Prince Regent.”
I bit my tongue. Who did they think they were fooling? Even a porpoise could tell the difference between aqua vitae and brandywine.
They strolled ahead of me through the palace hallways, ignoring the servants who bowed as they passed. The Magistratus’ ceremonial witches walked behind them in formation, each holding crystal-tipped staffs. I trailed after them, arms stuffed in the pockets of my skirt. It didn’t matter that the Magistratus was motivated by reparations or that Father was only going along at the Magistratus’ suggestion. If I could get them out of the palace gates, we’d arrive just in time to stop Master Fosco.
A little voice in the back of my head reminded me of all the times I’d saved King Magnar, only to have it backfire in my face. Like the time I lingered in a burning hut at Fyrian’s insistence to save him, only to have the wretch carry me out against my will and trigger the damsel denial enchantment. And the time Niger was about to arrest him for dosing Mount Fornax with the loyalt
y elixir. I had stepped in to vouch for his innocence, and King Magnar had used the damsel denial’s magic to try to force me into a marriage of obedience.
The guards at the double doors bowed and let us out into the sunny evening. If I had any sense, I would let Master Fosco wring King Magnar’s neck. Then I would be free from my obligation, and would never again see his arrogant, sneering face.
Phoenix stared down at us from beyond the palace walls, his amber eyes catching the sun. The scales on his back were the exact same shade of purple as Master Fosco’s, with softer looking straw-colored scales on his breast and underbelly.
The Magistratus turned to me and frowned. “What is the meaning of this? Fosco is over there.”
“That dragon has both horns.” Father waved his Sword of Lightning in the direction of Phoenix’s head. “I sliced Fosco’s off during our last duel.”
Phoenix narrowed his eyes, and I mouthed, ‘Sorry,’ and made the universal sign of drinking. The purple dragon inclined his head, and I sighed my relief. At least one male around me was sensible.
We stepped out of the palace gates, and Captain Leo rushed after us. “Prince Regent? Magistratus? Where are you going?”
“Mount Fornax,” I replied.
“Allow us to accompany you.”
I glanced up at Phoenix. “How many people can you transport?”
He scratched five on the ground and lowered himself onto his belly.
One of the witches accompanying the Magistratus pointed her staff at his ivory ceremonial carriage. With a flash of magic, she reconfigured it into a howdah and fastened it onto Phoenix’s back.
A squawk of outrage escaped my throat. “He’s a person, not a beast of burden. You can’t just—”
Phoenix let out a smoky harrumph and shook his head. I frowned and tilted my head to the side. He flicked his head as though to tell me the longer we stood here arguing, the more chance Master Fosco had of killing King Magnar.
Father and the Magistratus climbed the staircase the witches had created from the howdah’s steps and settled into the plush, velvet seats.
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