Swallowing hard, I banish the thought.
After introductions have been made, Halmar leads us around the low building to a large paddock with a wrought-iron fence that’s taller than we are. Inside it, dragons are sunning themselves in short, scrubby grass partially blackened in places.
“What do you think, Karthians?” he asks, putting on a smile for us.
Exchanging a look, Meredy and I answer together, “This is amazing!”
After that, Meredy follows Halmar around, asking questions about the dragons’ care while Azelie and I hang back near thepaddock gate and watch a pinkish-purple dragon slurp water out of a low metal basin. The creature rolls onto its back, wallowing in a wide puddle of mud like pigs do. Its colors remind me of the flowers that grow in the sprawling garden behind the Convent of Death back in Karthia.
“Do they ever figure out ways to escape?” I ask, eyeing the sturdy metal fence.
Azelie laughs softly, though her eyes remain troubled after hearing her uncle’s news. “Occasionally. That’s why my uncles have a beast master who lives here with them—to keep the little scoundrels from wandering off too far.”
I lean against the high fence, trusting the dragons not to burn my legs through the gaps in the metal while my back is turned, and let the warmth of the sun beat down on my face. Azelie does the same, as if the heat and light can somehow chase away the shadow the Ezorans have cast over the day.
“Seems like there are a lot of beast masters in Sarral,” I murmur, breaking the silence.
“There are. Compared to other mages, at least. Beast masters are particularly celebrated here because our queen is one, so...” Azelie’s words trail away as she follows my gaze to the far side of the paddock, where Halmar is showing Meredy how to feed the dragons something slimy from a bucket. Meredy’s face glows like it does whenever she’s with Lysander.
I like seeing her this way—carefree, an echo of the girl she was when we first met years ago, before too much of the world settled on her shoulders.
When I feel Azelie’s gaze shift to me, it’s not the sun’s warmth that stings my face. Searching for a distraction to avoid more questions about Meredy, I ask, “Have you ever thought of training to be amage yourself? I have a friend who would’ve loved growing up where inventors aren’t forbidden. And you don’t seem too happy working for the healers.”
Something tightens in Azelie’s face, though she’s still smiling. “Inventing is the most difficult magic to work. There are only two master inventors in all of Sarral. One has spent his life working on creating a language unique to our kingdom, and he already has two apprentices. And anyway, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
I frown. Her eyes are such a dark brown they’re almost black, and the darker the hue of any iris, the stronger a person’s magical ability usually is. “What do you mean? Did someone make you doubt yourself? Do masters here charge for—?”
Strong jaws clamp down on my ankle, teeth sharp as a Shade’s. I scream, drawing a dagger from the sheath on my belt, and whirl toward my attacker, surprised to see the dragon with pinkish-purple scales gnawing on my ankle. It blinks its liquid violet eyes serenely as it grinds its teeth. Sweat drenches my brow as I hold back another scream.
Lowering my blade, I yell, “Death be damned, get this filthy beast off me!”
Meredy and Halmar have already closed half the distance between us, having come running at my screams with wide eyes.
“As your assistant healer, it’s my duty to advise you that this dragon is female. And the females, in addition to breathing fire, have mildly poisonous teeth,” Azelie says cheerfully as she tries to pry the dragon’s jaws open. “We think it has something to do with protecting their young, but we’re still learning about them. We don’t even know what most of their powers are yet.”
“Powers?” I grit out. “You mean this thing could kill me with magic, too?”
Azelie shrugs, her expression turning thoughtful. “According to legend, all dragons have certain magical abilities that they can only use once they’ve reached adulthood. I suppose it could just be an old rumor, though I like to think it’s true.”
Finally, after what seems an eternity of heat creeping up my leg—it must be an effect of the poison—Azelie manages to get the blasted creature off me. “You’re lucky. It’s just a little love nip,” she declares cheerily as she inspects the wound.
“Stupid nipper,” I growl at the beast, who wags her long tail like a dog in response.
I hastily count thirty or so tooth marks. They ooze with a mixture of blood and something sickly yellow, making me cringe. Looks like I’ve already broken Kasmira’s order about not doing anything that leads to life-threatening injuries, and it’s not yet noon.
Meredy reaches us, putting an arm around me for support. I slump against her, glad to take weight off my rapidly swelling leg.
“What happens when this poison reaches my heart?” I gasp, wiping sweat off my brow. More sweat pools beneath my arms and trickles down my spine.
“It won’t!” Meredy says firmly. “We both know Kasmira would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”
“Dragon’s poison isn’t fatal,” Azelie says soothingly, inspecting my leg while her uncle admonishes the dragon. “It just burns like you’ve swallowed fire for a few hours. But there’s a healer just down the road. I’ll go fetch him...”
I’m ready to leave even before the kind young healer mends my leg as a favor to Azelie’s uncles, but I’m glad we stay for lunch in the house up the hill from the paddock. Watching Azelie and Halmar, I dip my bread in my soup, soaking up the extra broth. The two of them talk quietly, catching up on Azelie’s life in the city—Halmar worries abouther, being only fifteen and already living on her own above a tailor’s shop—while Meredy talks in a low murmur with the resident beast master who’s just come in from cleaning the stables.
I barely listen as they talk about bonding with their animals. I’m ready to get back to the city, away from things with too many teeth and fiery breath.
But when I open the door to walk back to our cart and patiently waiting driver, who’s immersed in a book, the sight of a familiar pinkish-purple beast the size of a hound stops me from stepping out the door.
