The Last Dragon Charmer #3

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The Last Dragon Charmer #3 Page 11

by Laurie McKay


  Jane spoke in her calm and cool manner. “Maybe Ms. Primrose transformed him for Rath Dunn. When he’s a falcon, he’s not that much of a threat to Rath Dunn or his plot.”

  That seemed like a possibility. Did that mean Ms. Primrose was helping Rath Dunn? Wasn’t she as angry with Rath Dunn as Caden? Then again, in the past when Caden pleased her, she rewarded him. When Rath Dunn pleased her, she rewarded Rath Dunn. Caden thought she’d begun to forgive him, to consider helping him. Was the same true of his enemy? She’d said she was tired of moderation. Maybe all those extra people she’d eaten had begun to expand her appetite. Or maybe she’d had no choice.

  That night, Caden hid Jasan in the attic bath-closet with a small tray of water to sip and the shower-stall floor to nest within. Jasan, of course, was unhappy. Being a bird didn’t seem to change his temperament, and the bath-closet was nothing like the grand rooms and ornate pools of the Winter Castle bathrooms.

  “Kak!” Jasan squawked.

  Tito stared down at him. As did Caden. The small room was crowded this night. “He better not wake up Rosa,” Tito said. “She isn’t going to be happy about a bird in the shower.”

  “Better she find bird-Jasan than human-Jasan, though,” Caden said.

  “Huh. You might be right on that one, bro,” Tito said, and yawned. His eyelids kept fluttering closed; his whole body looked slumped and tired. Tito had used much mental energy on his map and binder information. He needed to sleep.

  “Go rest,” Caden told him. “I’ll keep watch over Jasan.”

  After Tito stumbled toward the bedroom, Jasan hopped around the shower stall, stopping to sip water, then tapping his beak on the drain. Such was fate’s folly that Caden’s only relative in Asheville was currently a falcon. “Chadwin’s dead, Maden’s a traitor, and you’re a bird,” Caden said. “A noble-looking one, but still a bird.”

  “Kak!” Jasan said.

  “If you’re not quiet, Rosa will hear you.” Talk of Rosa brought back thoughts of mothers. Caden sank down to the floor so he could rest against the wall. Jasan knew about the second queen. He was the only one Caden could ask, so Caden leaned toward him and said, “Since you are trapped in the stall, I have questions. Who was my mother? Why is it such a secret?”

  Jasan squawked again, then pooped beside the drain.

  Caden sat back, pulled down a green towel, and leaned it across his shoulders. He didn’t want Jasan hopping and pooping on him in the middle of the night. Part of Caden liked talking to Jasan in bird form. It was like talking to Sir Horace. “You should tell me about the second queen.”

  If Sir Horace were crammed in the bathroom with Caden, he’d have snorted in certain agreement. As for Jasan, he twisted his bird head around and plucked at a loose feather. He didn’t appear to be listening.

  “I suppose I should ask you when you’re human.”

  Truth be told, however, that was hard for Caden. His father and brothers, the servants and guards, had refused his questions so many times when he was younger, he felt uncomfortable asking. No one wanted to break the king’s order of silence, including Caden, and he’d been reluctant to push it. Jasan, however, no longer cared about that kind of thing.

  “Despite the king’s wishes, I deserve to know.”

  Caden leaned his head against the sink. His head felt heavy, his limbs spent. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he was waking up. Immediately, he knew something was amiss. One, he wasn’t in his bed. He was cramped in a corner of the tiny Ashevillian bath-closet. Two, he had a green towel as a blanket and a wall as a bed. Three, someone was yanking the towel off him with amazing speed.

  That’s right; he’d slept next to the sink. Jasan was a falcon. Suddenly, Caden was alert and awake. He looked up at the tall figure standing over him.

  Jasan—his nonbird brother Jasan—scowled down as he tied the green towel around his waist. There were no sounds of movement in the house. All was quiet in the way of early morning, of when daylight was still a whisper on the horizon and most of the world was asleep. Caden let go a sigh of relief. His brother no longer had wings; he was back to his normal, surly self.

  Caden spoke quietly and in Royal Razzon. “You were a falcon last night. Do you know who transformed you?” Caden said.

  “Ms. Primrose.”

  Caden had suspected as much. “But why?”

  “Maybe because she’s a bad roommate,” Jasan said pointedly. “She disintegrated my couch to make room for shelves. She put her beads atop the . . . the . . . television.” “Television” he said in English. There was no Razzonian word for it. Jasan frowned. “She won’t give me control of the television either.”

  “I don’t believe she’d transform you for that.”

  Jasan was quiet, and Caden knew there was more. “Don’t try to understand a dragon’s motives” was all Jasan said before he leaned over the sink, glowered into the mirror, and pulled a stray feather from his hair. “I think I ate a frog before I flew at that window.”

  Caden felt for the poor frog. Then it occurred to Caden that his brother remembered eating one. “Do you remember your time as a falcon? You didn’t seem your human self to me.”

  Jasan turned on the faucet, cupped water with his hand, and gulped it down. He removed a second feather, one matted into his hair behind his ear, then said, “I wasn’t my human self then. But if you’re asking if I remember you prattling on about the second queen now that I am? Yes.”

  Caden felt strangely ashamed, like he always did when he asked about her, like it was his fault no one talked about her. But if there was ever a time and person who would tell him, the time was now and the person was Jasan. “Then tell me about her.”

  “No good comes from you knowing.”

  “No good comes from ignorance either. You no longer care about Father’s orders, and I want to know. I’m part of her as much as I am part of him.”

  Jasan shoved away from the mirror. He pursed his lips and peered at Caden. He was considering it; he really was. What could Caden say to make him actually tell him? Something meaningful to Jasan. Something Jasan would understand. Which emotion, which words, would his brother respond to best? Jasan loved the first queen. That was where Caden could connect with him.

  “You knew your mother,” Caden said. Jasan also knew what it was like to have everyone against you; he’d been framed, after all. There was some similarity to the kingdom refusing to give Caden information. “Think what it would be like not to know her and to have others know but refuse to tell you about her.” Most of all, Jasan was protective of Caden. “Someday someone will tell me. Better it be you than some villain or rival.”

  Jasan huffed and shook his head. Finally, he said, “I’ll only tell you once.”

  This was it. Caden held his breath. He dared not breathe or speak lest Jasan change his mind, lest Rosa wake up and charge into the bathroom before Jasan was finished, lest anything interrupt this moment.

  “You know Father doesn’t like your gift of speech,” Jasan said. “He tolerates you using it to translate and communicate, but he shuts down anything deeper than that.”

  That was true, and Caden had just used his gift on his brother. He’d actually been practicing his charms on others, too. How disappointed King Axel would be. Caden’s cheeks heated in shame. “I know my gift isn’t good like the rest of yours.”

  Jasan snorted like Caden was being ridiculous.

  Why was Jasan bringing this up? Did he know Caden charmed him? “What does my gift have to do with the second queen? You said you’d tell me about my mother, not talk about my lesser gift.”

  “Stop complaining and listen,” Jasan snapped. “It has everything to do with the second queen.” Jasan crossed his arms and sighed. “I don’t know all the details, but I remember that the second queen was charming. Father was taken with her. Valon and Maden were taken with her. The whole kingdom adored her.”

  That was a surprise. “Did you adore her?”

  “I was young. I h
ad recently lost my own mother,” Jasan said. “She comforted me.” He glowered like he didn’t want to admit it. “I trusted her. We all did.”

  Caden felt his brow crinkle. If his mother was so well liked, why was her memory shunned? Where had she gone? Why would no one talk about her?

  “But that was our mistake. She was a silver-tongued imposter. Nothing she’d ever said about herself was true. Her loyalty did not lie with Razzon or with our family, only with herself. Father caught her in the royal treasury one day, and her lies began to fall apart. Part of the treasury was gone. Stolen. Not long after, she ran away and sought refuge in the Autumnlands. That’s all I know. A few months later, you were brought to us via a messenger.”

  All that made it sound like the second queen could charm people. Like Caden supposedly could. “She was gifted in speech, too?”

  “No, I think she was just naturally captivating,” Jasan said. “Our gifts make our natural talents stronger—I would be fast, Lucian stealthy, Maden strong, and Valon a natural-born leader without them. But since we were gifted, our talents are exaggerated. When the royal gift bestower granted you with the gift of speech, all Father could see in it was her. No doubt you were gifted that because you had inherited some of her talent for language and manipulation.”

  Manipulation? Caden had always thought of it as charm. Manipulation sounded worse, sounded dishonorable and dishonest.

  Jasan snorted. “Father was furious.”

  Caden felt his shoulders slump. “So this is why the king doesn’t like my gift. It is the gift of charlatans.”

  “Speech is also the gift of diplomats and orators. All our gifts have their potential to lead us to a bad place. My temper is far too fast. Valon, gifted in leadership, is far too domineering. Lucian, gifted in stealth, is beyond secretive. And Maden is strong but power hungry. It turns out it was he the king should have worried about.” Jasan laughed wryly. “Our gifts are what we make them.”

  “Father wouldn’t want me making mine into anything.”

  “Father is sometimes wrong,” Jasan said.

  If there hadn’t been feathers sticking out of Jasan’s ear and eyebrow, and they hadn’t been crammed between the shower and sink, Caden would have found his brother quite sage then.

  When they walked into the attic bedroom, Tito stirred. He pushed off his purple quilt and rubbed his eyes. “Oh,” Tito said. He sounded surprised. “You’re human again, huh, Mr. Prince?”

  Jasan’s brow creased. He looked to Caden to translate, which Caden did. Then Caden added, “Jasan needs clothes. And you should show him the map and the binder.”

  Tito stared for a moment. “He was a bird. Got it. Now he needs clothes. Got that, too.” But he seemed to get anxious. “Why don’t you show him the binder? Then he really should go before Rosa finds him, okay?”

  While Tito searched for clothes big enough to fit Jasan, Caden showed him the map.

  “We need to know more,” Jasan said in Royal Razzon.

  Caden agreed. “I can question the teachers.” The king might not approve of Caden’s gift, but Jasan did. “I’ll use my gift for our benefit. One of them will know. I’ll convince them to tell me.”

  “That might work,” Jasan said. “If you do it right. And you’d best be careful.”

  “I will,” Caden said. He felt a large smile spread across his face.

  Jasan sighed.

  “Are you guys having a moment?” Tito said. He pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants with a split at the side seam from his clothes mound and handed them to Jasan. “You look like you might be having a moment.”

  Jasan took the sweatpants with a slight frown. Then he caught Tito’s gaze. “Thank you, Sir Tito,” he said in English.

  Tito seemed unsure of how to deal with Jasan’s intensity. “Uh, yeah, no problem.” He gestured to the door. “Caden, tell him he should leave now. Rosa will be awake soon.”

  But Jasan was already changed and at the attic window. Brisk mountain air blew inside. “I’ll see you again on Monday. Until then, practice your sword techniques, go over the information on the spell. If you figure out anything more, call me immediately.” With a nod good-bye, he jumped out and scaled down the house.

  “You know,” Tito said, “your brother is a bit of a show-off.”

  But Caden’s mind felt too cluttered to tell Tito why he was wrong. So Caden’s mother had also been good with words and languages, and she’d betrayed the king and Razzon. That was why the king didn’t like Caden’s gift. It reminded him of her treachery. Did that mean the second queen was really so bad, though? Just because she ran away?

  And apparently took part of the royal treasure. Caden cringed.

  “Hey,” Tito said. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Not really,” Caden said.

  Stealing didn’t necessarily mean she was evil, though. Just a thief. Caden wouldn’t judge his mother by his father’s standards. The king had wrongly judged Jasan and Maden; maybe he’d wrongly judged her. Once the king made up his mind about something, he never changed it. Jasan said that sometimes their father was wrong. Maybe they were all wrong about the second queen or, at least, not completely right.

  One day, Caden vowed, when he found his way home to the Greater Realm, he would find his mother. He would ask her why she’d done what she had. He would decide himself what type of person she was.

  No new information was gathered before Monday, Caden was only three days away from his curse, and the second part of the spell would happen at dusk. To find out where the next part of the spell would be, they’d need someone to tell them. The teacher Caden decided to approach was short, stout Mrs. Grady, the eighth-grade math teacher. She was a close ally of Rath Dunn, had been trusted with his classes when he’d become principal, and had kept giving Caden failing grades. He would see her in math class.

  Midafternoon, Caden sat in her classroom and watched as she wrote problems on the whiteboard. She had to stretch to reach the top of it. Her biceps bulged as she moved the marker.

  Tito sat in the desk to Caden’s right. He diligently copied the notes with his blue pen. Jane sat to his left. She doodled a picture of the Great Walking Oak, the Elderkind who protected the Springlands. Brynne was in the back. She refused to sit near the front.

  Caden leaned toward Jane. “She’s Rath Dunn’s ally,” he whispered. She’d been one of the villains who had held Scribe Trevor in the principal’s office. “Likely, she knows about the spell.” Then he leaned toward Tito. “It is Mrs. Grady we must question.”

  When the bell rang to release them for lunch, most students rushed out. Caden lingered. He nodded for Tito and Jane to head toward the cafeteria. In the back, Brynne packed up her things one pen, one pencil at a time. She was slow on purpose; she stayed to be backup. With the exception of cursing Caden with compliance and possibly ruining his life, she was a good partner.

  Mrs. Grady had her back turned. She swiped the eraser across the board and the numbers disappeared. For one so short, she seemed powerful and quick. Not quick like Jasan, but quick enough to be dangerous.

  Caden cleared his throat. “Mrs. Grady?”

  She spun around. Caden was a bit taller than she was, so she had to look up. “What do you want?”

  He’d been in her class almost a month and they’d never spoken. Usually, he talked to everyone, but he’d had nothing to say to her. Like Rath Dunn, she’d laughed when Scribe Trevor died. Some of his anger resurfaced. How does someone laugh when someone else is eaten by a dragon? How could Caden charm someone who would do that?

  No, “charm” wasn’t the right word. That’s why his gift didn’t always work. He always tried to win over people when he spoke to them. To get what he wanted, he shouldn’t try to charm her; he should try to manipulate her. How, though? He knew little about her. That, however, was a fact that he could remedy. The best way to learn about her was to talk to her.

  “Rath Dunn won’t hesitate to kill you,” Caden said. “Why follow him?”
>
  Her brow was heavy, her voice deep. “Go to lunch, prince.”

  Brynne got up and sauntered toward to door. “It sounds like she enjoys being his lackey, Caden,” she said.

  Mrs. Grady squeezed her hand into a thick fist. “I’m no one’s lackey.” She pointed at the door. “Get out, girlie.”

  Brynne cast her a glare that could scare a fear wraith, then stepped toward the hall. “I’ll wait for you outside.” After she left the room, he saw her shadow just beyond the doorway.

  “You get out, too,” Mrs. Grady said.

  Caden wasn’t ready to leave. “You’ve yet to answer my question. Why follow Rath Dunn?” he said. “Do you admire him? Serve him? Worship him?”

  She snorted, obviously offended. “You really want to know why? He’s the best gamble in town,” she said. “Do you think your brother or the other teachers have a better chance of surviving this game? I don’t. Let me give you some advice. Always align with the winner.”

  “The winner?” It sounded like all Mrs. Grady cared about was herself, not Rath Dunn’s plot, not the school, not either realm. She just wanted to stay alive by whatever selfish means possible. Caden crossed his arms. “Three days ago Rath Dunn sacrificed Mr. McDonald to the river. He has to sacrifice a teacher again tonight. You might be next. You’re expendable.”

  “Your brother would be a better choice. Don’t you think?”

  “My brother is fast and smart and inconvenient. Rath Dunn might want him dead, but he wants the spell done as easily as possible. Nothing about Jasan is easy.”

  That seemed to give her pause. “What is it you want?”

  Caden lowered his voice so no one else would hear. “I have a deal for you.”

  She full-out laughed at him. “What could you offer me?”

 

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