Dragon Mage Academy Box Set

by Cordelia Castel

  She nodded and exchanged a glance with Uncle Orel, who made no comment.

  Niger gaped. “How is that even possible?”

  I stuffed the gravestone back into my knapsack. “Dragon fire increases the effect of gravestone. Fyrian and I worked it out. Where are Muti and the others?”

  “They were released because you were the ringleader. But I do not think they wanted you sharing a cell with so many males.”

  I shoved both the knapsack and invisibility cloak into his hands. “Right. There’s no time to waste. Put this on.”

  Niger fastened the cloak around his neck and donned the hood, making him disappear. I sat on the cot and stared at my hands, mimicking his previous position.

  Moments later, the door opened. Father stepped in, flanked by Master Fosco and the Witch General. “There she is! The daughter who ran away to become a dragon mage had more spirit than this. What is wrong with her?”

  I peeked up through my fringe of hair and stared down at my hands.

  “Paloma, has she said anything to you yet?” he asked.

  “Nothing that makes any sense,” Mother chirped.

  Father harrumphed. “It is the glamor. It has addled her mind.”

  “That’s not how they work,” said the Witch General with a sigh. “She’s probably sulking from being caught trying to escape.”

  “You separated her from Fyrian-Lacerta,” snarled Master Fosco. “The connection between a dragon and their bondmate is sacred.”

  Mother let out a chirping laugh, but nobody else commented. I glanced up to Find Father with his lip curled, teeth bared, and glaring at Master Fosco. Perhaps they had spent too much time together and their little truce was now coming to an end.

  “Fyri?” I asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Could you make sure Phoenix picks Evolene up from King Magnar’s hut? She can sleep in my room. I doubt that anyone will go there.”

  “I’ve already told him,” she replied.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll make a hole in the ward and take a look at her,” said the Witch General.

  I held my breath. If she cast the wrong spell, she might be able to detect Niger under his invisibility cloak. White light surrounded me, and long, platinum hair cascaded down my shoulders. I raised my head and scowled.

  “There,” said Father. “She is more like herself.”

  “A girl?” asked Mother.

  He shot her an annoyed glare. “More spirited.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Now that you’ve established that I’m better, can you restore my disguise, please? Anyone could be passing by and staring into the window.”

  “One moment.” The Witch General lowered the wards around my cell.

  My heart rate tripled, and I coughed, hoping Niger would get the hint and use this opportunity to step out of the cell.

  She peered into my face. “Your cheeks are flushed. Why?”

  I coughed. “Anyone would be embarrassed to have the most important people in their life watch over their incarceration.”

  Her face softened. “I’m truly sorry about your friend.”

  I dipped my head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  The Witch General gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. “We can send a healer over to you in the morning.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “She is not,” said Father.

  I lay back on my cot and stared at the ceiling, pretending to be too distressed to continue a conversation.

  The Witch General replaced the wards. “I’ll take my leave. We have an early start tomorrow morning.” She turned to me and inclined my head. “Goodbye, Cadet.”

  “Bye,” I closed my eyes. This time, I didn’t even need to pretend to be tired. It had been one of the longest days since Mount Fornax had been overtaken by the alchemists and their homunculi. After waking before dawn to steal frozen flames from the sleeping dragons, encountering the elephant vulture, sea serpent, King Magnar’s sisters, and the freezing waters of the Glacier Islands, I was ready for a nice, long sleep.

  “We will talk in the morning,” said Father.

  “Hmmmm,” I replied.

  “You really are tired, aren’t you?” asked Mother.

  “Hmmmm…”

  “Wake up!” said a harsh, female voice.

  I blinked. The Witch General stood over my cot, flanked by two lieutenants. “General Shipton?”

  “Don’t you General me,” she snapped. “Where were you last night?”

  “Here.” I sat up and yawned. “What’s happened?”

  “Evolene has escaped.”

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “But you said you’d lose your magic if she left.”

  “Whoever helped her used an avatar.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind!” she barked. “I know you were involved in this. Two of my lieutenants were found half-dead in a pit underneath the Capital Market bound, gagged and replaced by impostors.”

  I drew my brows together and clamped my lips shut. The Witch General had seen me in the same room as the impostors. They had gotten my friend arrested. How could she think I was involved with them? I resisted the urge to point this out, as she hadn’t mentioned which lieutenants had been replaced.

  “When were they abducted?” I said.

  “Moon Day,” she replied.

  “But Evolene was arrested on Wodan’s Day. And before that, I was King Magnar’s prisoner. Ask him, he’ll tell you. How could I escape his clutches to abduct two witches days before they got my friend arrested?”

  Her lips formed a tight line. “I don’t know, but when I find out, you’ll be facing serious charges.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t me who committed all those crimes. I didn’t have the magic.”

  The Witch General snarled and stormed out of the jailhouse.

  “When they let you out, you and I are going to have a long talk,” said Mother.

  I nodded and flopped back onto the cot. Evolene was politically out of everyone’s reach, and the crime was far too advanced and convoluted to pin on me. In time, the Witch General would realize this, and she would look elsewhere for the culprit.

  In the meantime, I would have to keep myself out of trouble.

  END OF BOOK FIVE

  Pariah of Dragons

  Dragon Mage Academy Book Six

  Chapter 1

  Last night, if anyone had asked about the worst part about yesterday’s adventure, I would have mentioned the sea serpent or King Magnar’s sisters. Now, I would choose the fifteen hours of jailhouse tedium. I lay on the hard mattress of my cell with my hand over my brow, a weak shield from the bright sunlight. It bounced off the translucent pebbles on the sandstone ceiling making them glint like encrusted jewels. I counted one-hundred-and-twenty-three, but there were probably twice that amount digging into my back.

  The quiet flap of wings and the clink of tiny claws landing on the windowsill told me a bluebird had arrived. I sat up, rested my forearms on my thighs and exhaled a long breath. Evolene was safe and under the protection of King Magnar’s diplomatic immunity. Niger, Stafford, and Master Jesper returned unhurt. It was time to be grateful, not mournful. Eventually, someone would have to let me out.

  “Are you ready to talk, now?” Mother flew down from the windowsill and perched on my shoulder.

  “Careful, Alba,” said Fyrian. “Someone might be eavesdropping outside.”

  I swallowed. While I could trust Mother to keep my secrets, I didn’t trust Father or Master Fosco to not lurk in the courtyard, listening out for my confession. “You’re right. I’ll have to lie to her until I can be sure we’re alone.”

  She gave me a gentle peck on the shoulder, her way of telling me she was waiting for a reply.

  I stared at the table beyond the bars of my cell and rubbed my empty stomach. “About what?”

  “The Witch General’s accusation. How did you break into the Magical Militia and rescue the Gal
loway girl while you were in this jailhouse?”

  “I don’t know what she was talking about.”

  With a clack of her beak, she swiped her velvety wing against the side of my neck. “Don’t lie to me, Alba Bluebeard. You may not have abducted those witches and left them to die, but you know how Evolene escaped. Orson is furious you went so far to help a Galloway. And I’m disappointed you would associate with such scum.”

  I stiffened, ignoring the cold dread tightening in my belly. Of all the people in the Known World, I had thought Mother would be more accepting toward my friend.

  The door swung open, and she flew back to the windowsill. Niger strode into the jailhouse, holding a foaming mug. In the sunlight, the ends of his long, wild hair and beard shone like burnished copper. My heart made a happy hop and skip, but I suppressed the smile curving my lips. Mother had pecked him a few days ago for that kiss, and she was probably looking out for signs that I was still consorting with him.

  His gaze flicked to the windowsill, and his steps faltered. “Did you know there are six Militia witches guarding you?”

  I cringed. Fyrian had been right about the eavesdroppers. “The Witch General must have sent them. She thinks I broke into the Magical Militia and rescued Evolene.”

  “What? That is impossible.” Niger’s tone sounded too casual to convey shock. He frowned at the yellow barrier around my cell. “I brought you some mead.”

  “You’d better have it.” I angled my voice toward the bars of my window. “Since there’s no way anyone can get through that barrier.”

  He grunted and sat on the table opposite. “When will they let you out?”

  I raised a shoulder. “As soon as they realize that I couldn’t have done any of those things.”

  “You do not have the magic to break through their wards.” He took a sip from the tankard.

  “Exactly!” I glanced at the window. The sides of two heads were visible through the bars. I flicked my head to Niger, who nodded. “I’ve been in this cell since they arrested Fyrian and me.”

  Mother hopped on the windowsill, flapping her emerald-blue wings. The tiny, red feathers on her breast fluffed out with indignation. “You’re a terrible liar, and that half-ogre of yours is a bad influence.”

  I shot her a filthy look. Not all half-ogres were rogues who married one sister while keeping the other as a concubine. Before I could reply, a soft knock reverberated on the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  It opened a crack, and Eyepatch slipped through, clutching a wicker hamper to his chest. The slender man’s eyes darted around the jailhouse as though looking for a place to settle. He gave Niger a nod and a muttered good morning and stepped further inside as though worried he was intruding.

  Niger stood. “Flying safety class is about to start. I will ask one of the witches to lower the barrier for Mr. Cobbs on my way out.”

  “Thanks.”

  He strode to the door. Just before opening it, he gave me a dazzling grin of white teeth and sparkling, obsidian eyes. “When you get out, I will teach you drogott.”

  Excitement fluttered through my insides, warm and tingly and full of anticipation. Would he kiss me again when we were alone? I’d have to make sure no bluebirds trailed us this time. Mother clacked her beak with disapproval, and I pressed my lips together, suppressing another smile.

  “She’s just trying to protect you,” said Fyrian.

  Her words hit me like a splash of water, and my jaw clenched. “Do you think he’s a bad influence, too?”

  “Not really, but you have to see things from her point of view. It can’t be nice having your mate spend all his time with another female. Niger swaggers about a lot like your father.”

  I scowled down at my boots. “No, he—”

  “After catching you two kissing, she thinks you’re headed down the same path as her.”

  “But Niger isn’t like that!”

  Fyrian’s side of the bond fell silent, and I swallowed. What did she see in Niger that I couldn’t? I shook my head. Neither she nor Mother knew Niger well enough to compare him to Father, and I wouldn’t let their words poison my mind.

  The jailhouse door swung open, and a squat witch with ginger pigtails and ruddy cheeks stepped in. Straightening, Eyepatch gave her a tight smile and backed toward the table. She stuck her nose in the air and bustled past. I narrowed my eyes. It was typical of Magical Militia witches to act like they were above non-magical folk.

  “Your mother’s problem is that she doesn’t know Niger,” said Fyrian.

  “What are you saying?” I asked. “I should help them get to know each other?”

  She gave me a mental shrug. “Don’t ask me. I can’t see the point of courting someone who can never be your mate.”

  “You wish to eat breakfast?” asked the witch.

  I pushed myself off the cot. “Yes, please.”

  With a flash of her staff, the yellow barrier vanished. The witch stepped aside and cast Eyepatch a cool stare. “You may place the basket on the ground.”

  Muttering his thanks, Eyepatch did as he was told, then the witch pointed her staff at the basket and slid it across the floor into my cell. The barrier snapped into place, then she gave herself a nod of approval and walked toward the exit without a word.

  I eyed the basket, mouth watering. If it contained anything like the fare Eyepatch had helped Evolene create that time the four of us picnicked, it would be worth having slept on a hard prison cot all night.

  “Go on, then.” Eyepatch lowered himself onto the floor and sat in front of my cell with his legs crossed. “Open it.”

  I lifted the lid, and the warm scent of cream filled my nostrils, reminding me of more pleasant times. Mostly sitting with Stafford over a bowl of porridge while he listened to my latest theory on the goings-on in Mount Fornax. The basket’s interior felt as large as a breakfast table and contained two covered platters, surrounded by smaller dishes and a flagon of kumquat juice. I pulled out glass bowls containing small pieces of fruit, seeds, and chopped nuts.

  Eyepatch shrugged. “For the bird at your window. There’s enough for her comrades.”

  Mother flew down and perched on the edge of one of the bowls. “I like this human. What’s his name?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cobbs,” I said.

  The smile he gave me was gruff. “I may be no warrior, but I earn my keep feeding the heroes of Mount Fornax. And from what I’ve seen, you’re soon to become one of the greatest.”

  Happiness, as warm and sweet as his coconut porridge, spread through my insides, up my neck, and into my cheeks. He’d probably seen my duel with King Magnar and gotten the impression I was some kind of champion. Dipping my head, I muttered, “I don’t know about that.”

  “You’re a good person,” he said. “Brave, too, much like your mother.”

  “I’m her mother, not Cendrilla,” snapped the bluebird through a beakful of nuts.

  Fortunately, everyone who wasn’t a fairy or mated to one would hear her complaint as a tweet. I gave her feathery head a pat of apology then pulled out the larger platter and removed its metal cover, revealing a thin breakfast roll.

  Eyepatch frowned. “Sorry, there’s not any dragonberry chili to go with that. A whole barrel of it went missing last night.”

  I picked up a little jug of tomato and onion relish. The chili in Mount Fornax was much too fiery for the palate of most quarter-ogres, and my half-fairy sensibilities didn’t care much for it, either. “This one’s my favorite.”

  He beamed. “Enjoy.”

  I bit into my breakfast roll, and an explosion of flavor invaded my mouth. No wonder Stafford loved to eat them. Boar sausage, orvoli omelet, and a mixture of delicious condiments mingled to create the most wonderful breakfast I had ever eaten.

  Eyepatch laughed. “I thought you might warm to my breakfast rolls if I made the ingredients thinner. Most of the boys here like bulk, but you’re different.”

  I froze, stomach muscles tightenin
g. “Huh?”

  Eyepatch puffed out his chest. “Cobbs never cooked for royalty before. Master Torreo always makes the food for the dignitaries… not that I’m complaining.”

  My insides relaxed. He still had no idea of my secret. “Um… The rumor about me being a Prince of the United Kingdom of Seven isn’t true.”

  His single eye blinked closed for longer than usual before opening. It might have been a wink, but I couldn’t be sure. I took another bite of the breakfast roll fit for royalty and sighed. The more I denied the rumor, the more people believed I was one of Aunt Cendrilla’s twins.

  “Do you know how I lost my eye?” He pointed at the black patch that took up half the left side of his face.

  My throat flexed. Right now, I couldn’t cope with a gory story. “No?”

  “Competing for Her Majesty’s hand.”

  Mother’s head shot up from her bowl of chopped fruit. “Ha! I remember him now.”

  I glanced down at her, a question on my lips, but the door opened, and a pair of quarter-ogre warriors stepped inside. They wore the burgundy leather of mages and each held a halberd six-and-a-half feet tall. Behind them entered a pair of militia witches with staffs as large as the one used by the Witch General. My throat dried, and I grabbed the flagon of kumquat juice and downed several gulps.

  “Albert Bluford?” said the shorter of the mages. He wore his long, blond hair in a single braid woven into his beard.

  “Y-yes?” I asked.

  “Time for your interrogation.”

  My heart bucked against my ribcage before trying to bolt out of my chest. If the Witch General was here with truth elixirs, we were doomed.

  Eyepatch spluttered. “He hasn’t finished his breakfast yet!”

  The taller mage, who wore his gray hair cropped close to his scalp, thumped the butt of his halberd on the floor. I suppose that was his silent way of saying he would listen to no excuses.

  The witches stepped out from behind the mages and took their time lowering the barrier of my cell. If my pulse wasn’t thrashing in my ears in time with my galloping heart and making every bone in my body rattle, I might have rolled my eyes at their fanfare. The squat witch from earlier had removed the barrier with a mere flick of her staff.