Gladius leaned close. “What were these favors?”
I leaned back in my seat. “Do you two want to sit together?”
“No,” they both replied.
An exasperated huff escaped my lungs. Why did I have to be their buffer?
“Well,” snapped Gladius. “I’m waiting.”
King Magnar gulped. “The first was to usurp the King of Old Pampas. Then I had to do the same to the Queen of the Midas Islands. Next, the spriggan demanded that I build a facility for dragons. His fourth demand was to help him transport stolen dragon eggs out of Mount Fornax.” He hesitated, casting me a nervous glance. In a small voice, he said, “Number five was to bring him Cadet Bluford.”
I stared into the barbacoa, where dozens of steaks sizzled and charred. This wasn’t news to me, and to his credit, King Magnar hadn’t attempted to move me out of Mount Fornax, even though his sisters had tried. At this stage, too much had happened for me to feel sore about the spriggans needing me for their nefarious plans. With Gladius and his black flames in the picture, and with Master Jesper’s poison, we might have a chance in defeating them.
“The alchemists said there were seven spriggans,” I murmured. “The sleeping dragons burned one of them—”
“Sleeping dragons?” asked Gladius. “What are those?”
Master Roopal cleared his throat. “At some point during your exile, did you notice feeling sleepier than usual?”
“I slept under the ground for centuries, sharing the nightmares of my fellow dragons, and noticed nothing of my body or the outside world.”
The dragon masters around the square of tables all exchanged stricken looks. I swallowed hard. Fyrian had mentioned having a few nightmares about things that had happened to the dragons during their time with the fairies. It was no wonder Gladius had set himself up as an avenger and attacked all those people. Watching other dragons suffer must have been excruciating.
Gladius waved a dismissive hand. “Tell me about the sleeping dragons.”
Master Roopal launched into a lecture about dragons’ seven stages of growth, explaining that the absorption of magic, and not time, pushed a dragon through their natural evolution. When an egg had gathered enough power, it warmed and produced a hatchling, scaleless creatures whose eyes did not open. The next stage of development was the dragonet. Gladius nodded and said he had seen the small creatures flying about and carrying scrolls. After dragonets became full-sized dragons like Fyrian, who remained that way for centuries before sleep overtook them, and a cocoon formed around their bodies.
I turned around and glanced at Stafford. Earlier, we had passed through the basement where they kept the cocoons to infiltrate the lair of the sleeping dragons and steal frozen flames. Stafford grinned, likely remembering that little adventure.
“Finally,” said Master Roopal. “A dragon can emerge from their cocoon four times the size of the dragons you have seen around Mount Fornax, and infinitely more powerful. We call them sleeping dragons, as they only awaken once a year to feed.”
Gladius grunted. “Wake them, so we can attack the spriggans together.”
I wrung my hands. “Dark magic woke them up the time someone stole the dragon eggs. They’ll probably sleep for another year now.”
King Magnar shrank into his seat and stared down at his hands. Everyone except Gladius knew the destruction of his enchanted armor had awoken the sleeping dragons and ruined our chances of their joining us against the spriggans. I didn’t elaborate. There was no point in getting King Magnar into further trouble so close to fixing the situation with the spriggans.
“If a dragon doesn’t increase in size, he shrinks and turns into a master dragon,” said Master Roopal.
Gladius glanced around at the males enjoying their grilled slabs of largomorphus rex. “Like you.”
They nodded, and Gladius threw his own steak on the barbacoa. I sighed and relaxed into my seat. At least with Master Roopal taking the lead, the situation had become a little more relaxed. Master Fosco remained silent, assessing the situation with narrowed eyes. I supposed he realized that someone less confrontational had a better chance of communicating with the wild dragon. After Gladius had eaten his first steak and declared it delicious, the conversation turned to the spriggans’ locations.
“At least one spriggan has occupied the palace and is keeping my sisters hostage,” said King Magnar. “I’m not sure if he’s taking on my appearance, but someone has to rule the empire while I’m in exile.”
“Did the spriggan you dealt with reveal anything about his master?” asked Gladius.
King Magnar shook his head.
Eyepatch dipped between us and placed steaming bowls at our place settings. “Pheasant stew.”
I murmured my thanks to the retreating human. “If the spriggans came to you, the Forgotten King’s banishment-place has to be close. Were they interested in any particular locations?”
King Magnar glanced at Master Fosco for approval before saying, “Yes. The spriggan who directed me to conquer the Midas Islands was probably interested in the gold mine rumored to stretch down to the center of the earth.”
With a nod, I picked up my spoon and stirred my stew. That would be a good place to hide the Forgotten King.
“Where else?” asked Gladius.
“There’s a mine of fairy iron in Old Savannah, and the mountain where the spriggan asked me to build the dragon facility in Old Pampas.”
“The fairies should sort out their own mess.” Master Fosco leaned forward and fixed me with a glower. “Call the bluebirds and tell them to bring down the high fairies.”
I shrugged. Mother was probably still in the palace and unable to enter Mount Fornax with the wards locked down.
Gladius snarled. “The very same people who ripped off my gold armor and buried me deep into the ground? What if they decide to bury Mount Fornax and rid themselves of vengeful dragons?”
The table went silent. Nobody, not even me, fully trusted the motives of the high fairies. I placed a spoonful of pheasant stew into my mouth. With Gladius at our side, we didn’t need the fairies. The plan emerging was simple: find the location of each spriggan, kill them with Master Jesper’s poison, rescue King Magnar’s sisters, and avoid the resurrection of the Forgotten King.
If we stuck to that plan, nothing would go wrong.
Chapter 2
I twisted my seat to address King Magnar’s sisters and my friends at the other table. Most of them sat in front of platters of meatballs and mash, swimming in gravy, but the witches ate Eyepatch’s venison stew. “The spriggan poison will be ready before the break in classes. Let’s split into groups of three: one to attack the gold mine, another to attack the iron mine, and the third to attack the dragon facility.”
One of the disguised sisters scowled. “We need another team to attack the palace. That’s where the spriggans are keeping the four Princesses.”
I nodded and tried not to think of what Father would say about my plans. “All right, four teams, then. Enough people around Mount Fornax will relish the chance of getting rid of the spriggans.”
Grunts of approval filled both our tables and the tables of the ogre-hybrids eavesdropping on our conversation. Even if General Thornicroft kept the fully-qualified warriors busy with missions, I could still rely on Evolene and my classmates, King Magnar and his sisters, the drogott team, and Muti and the riders.
“The green dragons want to help,” said Fyrian. “The red dragons from tonight are pledging their support, and Fulmens will probably want to go out with Stafford, too.”
We continued our meal with some of the other dragon masters explaining their roles around Mount Fornax. Only a few of them actually worked in General Thornicroft’s Dragon Defense Division. Many of them taught specialized classes and took on leadership roles around the mountain, such as Master Torrero being the head chef, Master Solum taking charge of agriculture, Master Hyacinthus working alongside Dr. Duclair in the Healing Academy, and Master Aurelius s
upervising the grooms. Throughout this conversation, Gladius raised his brows. Based on his attitudes about dragons being enslaved to the ogre-hybrids, I supposed he hadn’t thought dragons could take positions of leadership around the mountain.
At the end of the meal, Master Fosco stood. “I will show you to your room.”
Gladius folded his arms across his chest. “There is no need. I will sleep where the fairy sleeps.”
My stomach dropped in time with my lower jaw. “No one shares rooms here!”
The director’s lips tightened. “Take a room befitting your status.”
“The master dragons’ quarters open up into the mountain’s interior. You’d like them. They’re very spacious.”
Master Fosco shot me a filthy look, and I stiffened.
“He’s probably remembering that time you broke into his room and told the Magistratus about his Auntie Rilla pictures,” said Fyrian.
“I was investigating a murder!”
“Fosco won’t see it that way,” she replied.
“Maybe he’ll forgive me when we kill all the spriggans.”
“Probably,” Fyrian said in a tone filled with doubt.
The argument over the wild dragon’s sleeping arrangements continued. I glanced at Rufus and Stafford, who shrugged. The sofas in our common area were large enough to accommodate the tall, slender male. Once he had come to terms with dragons forming friendship bonds with the warriors, he didn’t seem quite so threatening. I didn’t mind him sleeping in our dorms as long as I had my room to myself.
Later, Gladius walked through the lamp-lit hallways with Rufus, Gobi, Stafford and me. Masters Fosco, Solum, and Roopal trailed behind. Our boots echoed on the polished sandstone floor. As I pushed the door to our dorms open, I glanced down to find that Gladius walked barefoot. Perhaps the skin of his soles was hardened enough to not need footwear.
“Or he couldn’t steal a pair of boots his size,” muttered Fyrian.
“I have no need for such fripperies,” he said into our bond.
“Stop eavesdropping,” Fyrian and I snapped.
Gladius smirked and walked into our common room. The sofa cushions were back in place after Asproceros’ attack and nicely fluffed, making for a comfortable sleeping-place for a wild dragon.
Master Roopal gestured at the sofa. “Settle yourself there, and we will provide you with magical attire in the morning.”
The next day went as normal with Gladius shadowing us to our classes. Unlike King Magnar on his first day of the academy, Gladius remained silent and watched our instructors with narrowed eyes. Fyrian and I didn’t bother to ask his opinion about the lessons. It was enough that he wasn’t making disparaging comments about dragons being enslaved or subjugated.
At dinner after classes, Niger sat in a seat between me and Rufus. He flicked his head toward his friends on the other table. “We are practicing a few moves tonight with the other reserves. Want to join us?”
I glanced up into his obsidian eyes, heart sinking at the thought of not spending time alone together. We’d agreed to keep our distance until I could speak to Aunt Cendrilla’s witch-doctor about our compatibility for marriage, since Dr. Duclair’s Libra Familia spell didn’t cover fairy-hybrids. It still hurt that I would only get to see him in a crowd. “Sure.”
Rufus harrumphed and bit into his leg of crackled boar.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Ever since he had confronted me about the dangers of a half-ogre male consorting with a quarter-ogre female, he’d given me glares of disapproval whenever I so much as spoke about his brother. Even after Niger had explained to him why he thought I might be a compatible exception, he still glowered whenever we came close.
“He’s just worried,” said Fyrian.
I picked a piece of hardened skin off my boar leg and placed it into my mouth, enjoying its salty crispiness. “I know, but he should have more faith in his brother.”
From my other side, Gladius bit into his boar leg. “What are you two talking about?”
“None of your business!” we both snapped.
“We’re going to have to visit Thornicroft wherever he’s hidden himself and get help to keep him out of our bond,” said Fyrian. “This can’t go on.”
“Agreed.” I glowered at the platinum-haired male eating his third leg of boar like a starved vulture. He didn’t seem to care about things like private conversations.
After we’d finished eating, a group of us set off toward the Drogott Arena. I met Fyrian at her stall with Gladius trailing at my side, asking questions about the construction of the mountain. The setting sun cast a red haze across a sky dotted with thin clouds, coloring his pale hair crimson.
I turned to the wild dragon. “If you’re so interested in how the witches built the mountain, why don’t you speak to Madam Maritimus. She was there during its construction. I was just a baby.”
“I will stay by your side until we have dealt with the spriggans.”
My shoulders slumped. “It’s because I have fairy blood, isn’t it?”
After a moment, he hesitated. “From what I overheard from the other dragons, you are at the center of anything that happens here. If I am to learn about Mount Fornax and defeat the spriggans, it will be by your side.”
I rolled my eyes. He was giving me far too much credit.
Up ahead, Fyrian lay on her belly halfway across the terrace like a resting lion. The darkened light from the setting sun made her horned mane shine like polished jade.
She narrowed her crimson eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
“I wish to see this drogott the warriors seem to enjoy.” Gladius glanced around the terrace, admiring the grass growing out of the walls.
“You’re not riding on my back,” she replied.
He pulled at the hem of his homespun tunic, revealing a sunken stomach. “Then I will change.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “What are you doing?”
“Removing this clothing so it does not tear during my transformation.”
“It’s magical,” I snapped. “Enchanted to turn into a scrap of fabric that wraps around your limb during your transformed state. When you turn back to human, it will restore itself onto your body.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure?”
“My mother’s a bluebird puka fairy. Her uniform turns into a little band around her ankle when she transforms. Phoenix and Master Fosco’s clothes disappear and reappear each time they shift. Yours will do the same.”
He stepped back several feet, staring down at his new clothes. Then he transformed into the iridescent dragon. Without the cage obscuring the sun, Gladius’s scales reminded me of the bubbles blown by the tilapia that dwelled in our garden pond. Depending on how they floated above the water’s surface, the shimmering bubbles would reflect different colors before exploding into glittering sparkles.
The wild dragon inspected his raised forepaw. “I hope you’re right. Clothing is difficult to obtain.”
“Can we go now?” snapped Fyrian.
“Sorry,” I muttered to my bondmate. Gladius had spoken into her mind ever since I persuaded her to approach his cage. After a conversation where he tried to force a wedge between us by suggesting Fyrian had enslaved herself to a fairy, Gladius wouldn’t stop trying to speak to her. It had to be aggravating to have the male dragon follow us about.
I climbed up Fyrian’s foreleg, settled myself between her wings, and wrapped my arms around her neck in a comforting hug. With a huff of sulfur-scented smoke, she leaped forward and spread her wings in a sound that reminded me of the opening of a parasol. We glided down over the terraces, over the base of the mountain, across meadowland and fields of crops, to the edge of the fertile lands, where red streaks of sunlight made the dry soil look like it had been soaked in blood. I threw my head back, enjoying the caress of the wind through my hair and the exhilaration of being airborne. There was nothing like riding on the back of a dragon.
Fyrian chuckled into our bond. “No
w that you’ve had your nausea elixir, I can use the power of our bond and my extra lungs to catch all the fireballs the drogott boys throw at us.”
I grinned. “They’re going to be so shocked!”
Moments later, the sandstone amphitheater came into view. Sunlight reflected over the arches that made up the building, making the windowless openings seem like they’d been set aflame. Above the circular building, Flavo-Fumi, Niger’s yellow dragon, and a couple of red dragons flew around in a circle, tossing fireballs at each other. Flavo broke away from the group and flew toward us.
My heart flip-flopped. It wouldn’t be the same as sitting close to Niger, but I looked forward to the chance of speaking to him alone. Fyrian swooped down and landed several feet away from the arena, and Flavo landed close with a loud thud and a cloud of dust. With my pulse urging me to hurry, I scrambled down Fyrian’s forearm and strode across the dry earth toward the yellow dragon. Niger leaped off his dragon’s back and landed in a crouch.
He straightened, giving me a smile so dazzling, it made my chest ache. “I heard you caught Asproceros last night. Are you unhurt?”
I smiled. “I’m fine. Sorry… I would have gone to where you and your brothers were guarding the purple dragonets, but I got distracted.”
His hand twitched toward mine, but he let it drop at his side. The other members of the drogott team were flying ahead on their dragons, and they didn’t need to see their captain in a clinch with the reserve keeper. He glanced up at the dragon whose scales reflected every color of the sun. “I heard that he is the original dragon. What is he doing here?”
“I’m hoping he wants to learn more about life at Mount Fornax by following us around,” I muttered.
Gladius let out a smoky harrumph. Despite what he had said before, he clearly didn’t trust fairies. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him that I was the Forgotten King’s great-granddaughter.
“There is a cave on the north side of the territory.” Niger flicked his head in that direction. “Shall we meet there after practice?”
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