“Lettingme? Oh, thank you. I appreciate your generosity. I might decide to visit Azeron and poke him with a metal lance.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, storming forward.
My brows lifted. “I’m not really into torturing other people’s dragons.”
A snort preceded his reply. “You’re prickly.”
“And you’re arrogant. I might just tell him to flame you, erase my problem.”
“Go ahead.” He was nearly chest to chest with me now, and I had to stare up at him.
“Myth, I need you to give us a few sparks. Please,” I added as Covington grinned at me. He stepped back toward the door and removed his blazer. The worn journal was crammed behind his suspenders at his back.
Myth didn’t do anything. Good boy. He sensed that I didn’t want this to be easy for Covington.
“What do you want to do with the glass bottle?” I asked. At Covington’s silent scowl, I rolled my eyes. “Maybe if you told me, I could get Myth to do what you want.”
Covington stepped toward Myth, the bottle held aloft. “I’m trying to capture a spark.”
“You can’t reallycaptureflame.” His stoic frown made me add, “Can you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, letting his arm fall to his waist. “That’s what I want to try.”
“Your journal said it was possible?”
Covington pulled the journal out and thumbed through it. “The notes are spotty. A few pages are missing. But yes, it indicates that it’s possible.”
I sucked in a breath, thinking of all the horrible things people could do with bottled dragonfire.
“Now, get him to do it. You said you could.”
“Could doesn’t meanshould,” I muttered.
Covington turned as if to go. “I’m sure Headmaster Vaughan will understand why you brought a fire-breathing dragon here.”
“Wait.”
After six more attempts to get Myth to spit sparks, Covington moved to lie down in the massive hammock. “Wake me up when he decides to cooperate.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said, stomping after him. “If you’re going to sleep, I’m done here.” I’d had a hard enough time staying awake today, after last night. Tomorrow would be worse.
He perched on the edge of the hammock, which barely moved with his weight. “If he won’t give you sparks, there’s no point in you being here.”
Giving him my best glare only made him chuckle. I seethed as blush rushed into my cheeks. “I won’t allow you near him.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. My father will be delighted to know I’ve found the dragon he’s been hunting.”
I reached back to slap him, but he caught my wrist. The hammock swung gently, pulling me toward him.
“I’d be careful, if I were you,” he whispered, his legs moving around me as I tipped forward against the heavy ropes.
Scrambling backward, I rubbed my wrist where he’d touched me. His grip hadn’t been painful, but it had been firm.
“Myth,” I said, still staring at Covington. “I need you to show us your flame this time.” Carefully, I edged back toward Covington, reached for the glass bottle, and slipped it from his hand. He didn’t resist.
Turning, I approached Myth with the small bottle, still warm from Covington’s hand. I set it on the ground and stepped away. “Burn it,” I said.
Myth tipped his snout toward the bottle and sniffed. Then he parted his fangs, just barely, and breathed out a shower of sparks.
