“Sorry, sorry,” I said, yanking on a tunic and pants. “But this is it. This is the answer.”
He cocked his head, unconvinced.
I didn’t blame him. I’d thought I was close a dozen times already. But this felt different. This felt right.
The pieces were already assembling in my mind as I raced through the corridors, Fletcher’s claws clicking on stone behind me. Morning sunlight poured through the windows, painting everything in light, but I barely noticed. My entire focus had narrowed to finding that text.
The archives were exactly as I’d left them, a disaster of open books and scattered notes. I went straight to the section on geological phenomena, running my fingers along spines until I found it.
Atmospheric Effects of Ancient Ice Formations in High-Altitude Environments.
Not exactly light reading. I’d started it because the title mentioned atmospheric effects, then abandoned it when the content veered into geology. But there had been something there…
I flipped through the pages, scanning for keywords. Ice. Sublimation. Particulates.
There.
I read it aloud. “…unique properties of millennia-old ice exposed by seismic activity. Unlike surface ice, ancient formations contain concentrated mineral deposits accumulated over centuries. When exposed to temperature fluctuations, these formations undergo sublimation—transitioning directly from solid to gas, releasing particulate matter into surrounding air currents…”
My hands started shaking.
“Particles remain airborne during specific atmospheric conditions, typically settling during pressure inversions at dawn and dusk. Due to their microscopic size and mineralcomposition, these particulates can cause respiratory irritation in vulnerable populations, particularly those with developing airways.”
Oh, fates.
I flipped to the next page, where a diagram showed sublimation cycles and particle dispersion patterns. The timing matched perfectly. Dawn and dusk, when temperature differentials were greatest. When the babies’ symptoms were the worst.
I continued reading. “Geographic proximity to exposed formations determines severity and duration of effects. Prevailing wind patterns carry particles to populated areas, with concentration varying by elevation and orientation.”
That explained why Goldwing’s babies were coughing more. Their dwellings faced the peaks differently, which meant they caught other wind currents and received higher particle concentrations.
I grabbed my notebooks, cross-referencing with my own data. The dates when symptoms started. Two months ago, almost exactly. What had happened two months ago?
I skimmed my notes from Silvervale. King Trevare had mentioned a minor earthquake, barely noticed by most, but strong enough to crack stone in a few locations.
Had it been strong enough to expose ice that had been buried for who knows how long?
Everything clicked into place. The shared mountain range explained why only these two courts were affected. Elevation differences explained the varying severity, and the daily timing aligned with sublimation cycles. Babies, with their tiny, developing airways, would be the most vulnerable to microscopic irritants.
Not poison or intentional harm from either court. Justancient ice, newly exposed, sublimating in the mountain air and releasing particles that no one had thought to look for because who would suspect ice that old could cause problems?
I needed to tell Raoul. Needed to verify the solution. Needed to?—
Fletcher barked.I’m starving here. Feed me!
Right. Breakfast first, or he’d never forgive me.
I scooped him up, tucking him under one arm while I gathered my notes with the other. “We’ll eat, and then we’re going to find our favorite dragon king and solve this mystery.”
I half-ran up the stairs and through the corridors toward the kitchens, Fletcher grumbling under my arm about the indignity of being carried like luggage.
“You have four legs,” I pointed out. “I could put you down.”
You’re sprinting.
“Because I have a mystery to solve and a kingdom to save.”
After breakfast.
