“I’m not sure, but who’d test something like that to find out?”
Ivenrail, of course. Was a fae king allowed to do things the rest of the lords and ladies were not?
“What if someone grabbed my friend when her lord wasn’t around? Would they listen if she said no?”
Prenton scuffed the toe of his boot on the sandy floor. “That’s not mentioned in the rules.”
“I imagine they’d listen,” Will said, scratching his shoulder. He glanced down the hall, but there wasn’t anyone there. “They don’t treat us wonderfully, but I doubt they’d force someone to do a thing like that.”
There was a reason they were called the wicked fae, and it wasn’t just because they were often snarly.
“She has as much free will as you or me,” Will said. “Well, as much free will as our lords allow.”
“Lady in your case.”
“As I said, she’s good enough. I could’ve done much worse. I owe her.”
“Why?”
“Because she hasn’t turned me into a mindless Nullen.” He glanced around. “Since you’re here to work, why don’t you start grooming dragons at the end? The controller’s dragon is mean, and no one dares enter his pen.”
Glim. “He’ll behave for me.”
“That’s what all the newly collared stable hands say.”
“I have a way with dragons,” I said.
“You’re lucky, then. You’ll find equipment in the room nearthe main entrance.” He strode around me and down the hall, turning before he left the long building. “Don’t let Glim bite off your head. Oh, and stay out of the first stall.” He gestured to the one opposite the entrance.
“Why?”
“That’s Madrood’s pen. Hewillbite off your head.”
A warning worth heeding.
“Really,” Prenton said. “Don’t go anywhere near Madrood.”
Chills zipped across my skin. “I won’t.”
To their amazement, I groomed Glim without losing my head or getting scorched, then made my way through the stable, taking care of one dragon after another, skipping Madrood. I paused outside his gate, tempted to crack the upper portion and peek inside, but his snarl rang out, and I backed away with my hands lifted. Pivoting, I started down the hall to work with a more placid dragon.
Drask peered toward Madrood’s pen and tapped his beak on my cheek.
“I’m working with friendly dragons today, buddy,” I said.
I entered Glim’s pen again and cleaned it. Wheeling the cart outside, I dumped the contents into the pile and entered the aerie again to shovel more shit.
It felt good to do something familiar, something physical yet with purpose. While I moved dragon poop and wheeled the cart to where I could dump it, then laid fresh sand in each stall, I practiced calling tiny bits of my magic and sending them to my finger, using the spell Reyla had taught me. While I couldn’t control the fire enough to aim it, and I practiced on the stonewalls inside each pen to the confusion of the dragons, I did get better at generating light.
If only I could kill the king with my finger.
Seeing that it was getting close to the time I needed to return to Brenna’s rooms, I looked for Will, finding him cleaning gear in the room full of saddles and harnesses. “I have to leave.”
“Short day, huh?” He didn’t look up from his work.
“I have other duties inside the castle. I worked here for fun.”
Shaking his head, he sent me a wry smile. “The next time you want to have fun, you know where we are.” His attention drifted past me, to the hall, and he frowned.
