He glared back. “You would have done the same if the witches had taken Niger.”
The vehicle took to the skies, but I kept my gaze on a still-frozen Stafford. “I would have tried to get the Witch General to reconsider the arrest.”
Niger growled. “She was about to agree and then changed her mind when she found out about your stunt.”
Stafford’s face twisted with anguish. “R-really?”
“Yes.” All the anger drained out of my veins, and my shoulders slumped. I wanted to elaborate and explain how his rash actions had ruined Evolene’s chances of being released, but I didn’t have the heart to upset him further.
Instead, we rode in silence. My next option for saving Evolene would be to petition Father and make him see that any crimes she had committed in the past weren’t her fault.
The carriage soon landed in the reception courtyard. The witches opened the door and levitated Stafford out.
I stepped out of the vehicle and turned to the older witch. “What’s going to happen to Evolene, now?”
“I expect General Shipton will hold a preliminary trial on the premises before deciding whether to take the accused back to the Magical Militia for her punishment.”
My throat thickened. They were already referring to her as a criminal. “Where do you think it will be held?”
“General Shipton won’t want to go far. The royal box or that observation gallery.” She turned toward the double doors that led to the reception. “Where are your classes?”
“They were canceled today for the trial.”
The witches glanced at each other as though trying to work out how to keep us on the mountain so we wouldn’t sneak back to the Drogott Arena and cause the Witch General trouble.
“We don’t mind helping out in the kitchens,” I blurted.
We showed them the way to the mess hall, where a few of the servers were setting up the room for the evening meal. From the brickwork in the middle of the hall, it looked like they would hold a barbacoa for the warriors.
“Is there a supervisor here?” asked the older witch.
One of the workers hooked his thumb at the double doors leading to the kitchen. “That would be Master Torreo. He’ll be in there, organizing the chefs.”
“Could you get him, please? We have our hands full with prisoners.”
The server nodded and walked to the door where he stuck his head inside and uttered a few words.
“Fyri, who is Master Torreo?”
“He’s the dragon in charge of the food,” she replied.
“I thought that was Master Solum.”
“No, he takes care of agriculture.”
A large male clad in the white tunic and breeches of a chef stepped out of the kitchens. Short strands of pine-colored hair curled out from beneath his chaperon. “Someone called for Torreo?”
“Is he a green dragon?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why isn’t he one of the leaders?”
“Most master dragons just want to help out around the mountain and can’t be bothered with leadership,” she replied. “Besides, greens aren’t as bossy as purples, and Fosco prefers to have his friends to head the council.”
The older witch pointed at us. “These three have been banned from court proceedings for the day.”
“On what grounds?” Master Torreo folded his arms across his chest.
“Attempted aiding and abetting the escape of a criminal.”
He bared his teeth and fixed us with a heated glower.
“He thinks you tried to rescue the alchemists or King Magnar,” said Fyrian.
My heart jumped into my throat. “No! She’s talking about Evolene, not the people behind the loyalty elixir.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re Bluford, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
With a nod, Master Torreo turned to the witches. “I will keep them busy on vegetable prep, but if they get in my way, I’m sending them out.”
“Thank you.” The two witches released our bonds and walked out of the mess hall.
We all waited for them to pass through the exit before I turned to Master Torreo. “It’s not fair. The Witch General arrested Evolene for working with Master Jesper on the elixirs. They say she’s in violation of her probation.”
Master Torreo rubbed his chin. “I have to say, her recent acts have made up for her previous wicked deeds.”
“Evolene’s always been kind!” said Stafford.
The Dragon Master curled his lip. “She stood by and said nothing while one of my own, Fyrian-Lacerta, was accused of murder and nearly executed.”
Stafford muttered something about Evolene being under the control of her evil father, but Master Torreo paid him no attention. “Vegetable prep is nearly finished. Why don’t you cadets transport the peelings to the compost heap? Feel free to get lost on your way back.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Really.” He stepped backward and pushed open the kitchen door. “The sacks are in here.”
I turned to Niger and beamed. “At this rate, we’ll be able to sneak back to the mountain in time for lunch!”
Chapter 6
Returning to the Drogott Arena proved tricky. Niger’s yellow dragon, Flavo-Fumi didn’t come to meet us at the reception courtyard when summoned. Eventually, I connected with Fyrian, who informed us that Flavo didn’t want to miss any of the trial. I didn’t ask Fyrian to pick us up in case anyone from the royal box noticed us sneaking in, so we made our way to the stables and rode camelops down to the arena.
By the time we arrived, the sun was nearly at its zenith, its heat evaporating every trace of moisture in the air. We passed through the vestibule of the arena, just as the servers were setting up for lunch, and picked up tankards of ale. None of the witches we had met before were around, and we hurried to the seats with our heads lowered.
This time, instead of sitting with the drogott team, I sat between Niger and Stafford in silence and watched the rest of the trial. By now, the Magistratus would have told Father that I needed to see him, and he would make the effort to seek me out.
I gazed up into the royal box. Evolene stood at the back between Lieutenants Argentina and Raven within the yellow penitentiary bubble. I couldn’t see her expression, but she was no longer moving. I asked Fyrian, “Is Evolene all right?”
“She’s crying. Do you want to see?”
My heart twisted into a painful knot. “Umm… not really. Apart from that, does she look healthy?”
“Yes.”
I leaned over to Stafford and relayed Fyrian’s information. He bowed his head, and I gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “What have we missed?”
“Nothing, really,” replied Fyrian. “Those two alchemists are pleading not to be executed, and they’re spilling all of King Calder’s secrets. Did you know he was planning on killing Auntie Rilla?”
“Why?”
“He thinks she’s the next Snow Queen.”
I scratched my head. “Because Aunt Cendrilla defeated her?”
“Calder calculated that Auntie Rilla will take over the Known World in less than a few generations.”
I choked on my ale. “Is he mad?”
“That’s what Fosco said,” Fyrian replied. “But the librarian explained. Auntie Rilla married into the United Kingdom of Seven, the Realm of the Fairies, and she already rules three kingdoms of her own. Her children will marry into other royal families, and in a century if she isn’t already the ruler of a country, she’ll be the mother, grandmother, or great-grandmother of the ruler.”
“That’s a bit far-fetched,” I replied.
“I know, but they’ll say anything to avoid getting flamed.”
I ran my fingers through my magically darkened hair. “Do you think they’re lying?”
“It’s hard to say. Fulmen says they mostly smell scared.”
I glanced in Fyrian’s direction. Behind her perched Fulmen, the s
ilver dragon Stafford had ridden to the palace during the plague of locusts. The sleeping dragons had ordered him to accompany us because he was most likely to find the stolen dragon eggs with his extraordinary sense of smell.
Up in the royal box, Master Roopal held an open scroll to the Magistratus, not seeming to listen to the gibbering of Mr. Bacon and the librarian. They seemed to be outlining King Calder’s plans to steal the magic and life-force of his daughters, something King Magnar had already explained to me weeks before.
After several moments of letting the two men talk around in circles, Master Roopal picked up the speaking horn. “We have heard enough for one morning and will take a recess for lunch.”
I shot out of my seat and raced down the steps toward the exit with Niger at my side. As we passed through the archway, someone overtook me and knocked into my shoulder, sending me stumbling forward.
I would have tripped over my feet if Niger hadn’t grabbed my arm. I shouted at the figure running through the vestibule, “Watch where you’re going!”
He glared over his shoulder. It was that annoying Gobi. “Out of my way.”
“Where are you going, anyway?” I sprinted after him.
He grinned. “To see my brother, the Prince Regent.”
A sigh slid from my lips, and I tried not to slow my steps. There would probably be a crowd of well-wishers around Father, and I would miss my chance to see him.
“You will if you don’t hurry up,” said Fyrian.
I picked up my pace and gained on Gobi. He snarled and sprinted harder.
Niger snickered. “Ignore the little boy. The Prince Regent will make time to speak to you.”
He was right, but I wanted to speak to Father now, when he could intervene right away and end Evolene’s suffering, instead of later.
“You’re missing out on a treat,” said Fyrian.
She sent me an image of the arena. A dozen armed servers each pushed in carts laden with flatbreads as large as platters. While they waited at the edges of the stage, a group of witches levitated a sixty-foot-long roast lupin whale into the middle of the arena, filling the air with the scent of barbecue. The servers wheeled their carts to the whale, unsheathed their swords, and sliced off huge, steaming chunks of meat.
My stomach gurgled, and I gave myself a mental slap for thinking of food when Evolene was still stuck in that penitentiary bubble.
By the time we raced around the building and up the stairs, about a dozen warriors had already crammed the hallway, all eager to pay their respects to Father. He stood grinning outside the royal box, clad in his official navy Noble House of Bluebeard jacket and red sash emblazoned with the royal crest, offering bone-crushing handshakes.
“This is going to take ages,” I muttered.
“It is worth the wait,” murmured Niger. “You have a lot to discuss.”
It took an eternity for each warrior to greet Father, but soon, we progressed to the front of the line. Somehow, Gobi had pushed his way through the crowd and stood next to Father, beaming as he greeted the well-wishers. They looked nothing like brothers, as Gobi’s hair was several shades lighter than Father’s and the fuzz on his face was nearly turquoise whereas Father’s hair was so dark, it only looked blue in strong sunlight. Gobi’s eyes were also a warm shade of cobalt blue, while Father’s were pale and icy.
“Nearly there,” said Niger.
Father’s gaze sharpened at the sight of me, and he glanced at Niger. “You were the Griffon boy at the palace during the riot.”
“Yes, sir. I am Niger.”
Father gave him a bone-crushing handshake. “The two of you are friends?”
“Niger’s the captain of the drogott team,” I said. “I’m going to be the reserve keeper.”
Father’s brows rose. “It is good to see you have settled into life at Mount Fornax.” He turned to Gobi. “Have you met my younger brother yet?”
Gobi glowered at me, as though he was the only person with the right to speak to the Prince Regent.
I coughed. “We’re in the same class.”
“I hope you are looking after him.”
I stole a glance at Gobi, whose scowl deepened. He reminded me of my cousin Chrysus right before he would protest to not being a baby. There was no way I would tell Father about his petty and sometimes violent rivalry with me. He would admonish Gobi for bullying a girl, and my secret would be out.
Instead of answering, I gave Father a sweet smile. “Gobi mostly stays with Niger’s brother, Rufus.”
Father nodded. “An excellent choice of companion.”
“Actually, I came to speak to you about something personal.”
Father’s brows drew together. “There is a room we can use around the corner.” Then he turned to Gobi and placed both hands on his shoulders. “You must write to me if you need anything and come and visit me at the palace whenever you want. There is a home waiting for you in Mount Bluebeard. I am very proud to add you to the family.”
A lump formed in my throat. Those words had been very touching, but Mother had always said Father could be charming when he wanted.
Gobi’s cheeks pinked. “Thank you, brother!”
Father gave Gobi a tight hug and murmured into his ear, “If I had known about you earlier, I would have taken you to raise as my own son.”
I stared at my feet. Mother hadn’t told me much about the dowager Lady Bluebeard. I’d heard that the ogress had tried to eat Father shortly after he was born so she could use his life-force to create a powerful witch. Her eldest son, the giant, rescued Father and brought him up as his son. This was partially how a half-ogre came to inherit the largest estate in Steppe.
Father drew back and gave Gobi a pat on the shoulder. “I hope to speak with you soon.”
Gobi nodded and bounded down the stairs.
Niger cleared his throat. “I will wait for you out here.”
I nodded. “See you later.”
Father placed an arm around my shoulder and steered me toward the observation gallery. Inside, the large dining table occupied the middle of the room, and the Magistratus sat at its head with the dragon masters on both sides. In the middle of the table sat a massive platter of roasted orlovi birds, served on a bed of baked vegetables.
Thankfully, only the four ceremonial witches stood in the room. I hoped the Militia witches weren’t busy in the royal box taunting Evolene.
Father walked to the left of the room and sat. “What is on your mind?”
I settled next to him. “It’s Evolene.”
“The witch who was arrested?”
I nodded. “Can you speak to the Witch General and convince her that she didn’t do anything wrong?”
Father frowned. “Did she not have a trial in the Magical Militia?”
“She did, but that wasn’t a fair hearing. Her father made her commit crimes, and she didn’t know any better, because she hadn’t been brought up by witches. She should have gotten a clean slate, but now, they’re punishing her for working with Master Jesper to save us. She didn’t know it would violate her probation.”
Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is the daughter of Jack Galloway, yes?”
Despite my clenching stomach, I nodded. Surely, he wouldn’t hold Evolene’s family against her? I was about to explain that Jack Galloway was a brute when Father raised his hand.
“There is something you have to understand about the Galloways,” he said. “They lived on our lands for centuries without incident until about forty years ago.”
I nodded. Most noble houses had human serfs to work their lands. Ours was no exception.
Father stood and walked to the table of drinks and snacks. He picked up a bottle of aqua vitae and two glasses then returned to hand one to me. “Belt Galloway, Jack’s father, believed that humans should own the lands they worked.”
“Why?”
Father poured the fizzy liquid into my glass. “He wanted humans to live independently of ogres, yet did not want to leave the pr
otection and wealth of their fertile lands.”
I scratched my head. The only reason those lands were fertile was that the ogres bred or employed agricultural witches. It seemed odd that Belt Galloway wanted to lay claim to something that didn’t belong to him. “What did he do?”
“He incited the heads of five human households to storm the mansion, and they killed the first Lord Bluebeard.”
“The giant?” I raised my glass to my lips.
“His father, an ancient ogre who was completely innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“Oh.”
“Of course, Belt was executed for the crime when Jack was too young to understand events. And years later, Jack killed the giant in revenge.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Why didn’t the giant eject Belt Galloway’s family after he killed the previous Lord Bluebeard?”
Father sighed, placed his glass on a low table and took a swig directly from the bottle. I sipped at my glass of aqua vitae. It fizzed on my tongue but no longer tasted as refreshing as it had in the morning.
When Father finished drinking, he placed the bottle on the table. “Before the Great Dragon Revolution, humans without a liege lord were considered vagabonds. Do you know what that means?”
My throat dried, and I swallowed twice. Life for many humans before Aunt Cendrilla took control of the country was a cruel and brutal existence. They were considered marginally better than cattle. In a small voice, I said, “No.”
“Any ogre would be free to use the widow Galloway for meat and the son for breeding witches. Father could not condemn the family because of the actions of one member.”
I straightened and clutched my glass to my chest. Did that mean Father wouldn’t hold Evolene’s family history against her? The question was on the tip of my tongue. I gulped down a mouthful of aqua vitae and asked, “Will you help Evolene, then?”
He snarled. “Did you not hear anything I said? The Galloway family is full of ungrateful murderers.”
I placed my glass on the table and grabbed Father’s forearm. He had to listen to me. “Evolene isn’t like that. She’s worth saving.”
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