Page 35 of The Infirmary for Dragon Burns and Midair Mishaps

Ilona had admitted us into the Wiggly Dragon Tooth when I’d knocked earlier in the evening. She’d given Trystan a long up and down look as he’d stood by my shoulder. Even without his armor, it was clear he wasn’t a local. But all he had to do was flash his smile and she was pulling the door wider. There were half a dozen other people tucked into nooks inside the pub, seemingly conducting secret business of their own. None of them seemed to be kingsguard, which meant Trystan and I were free to talk.

Mostly.

“What happened here anyway?” he asked, gesturing to the debris in the courtyard as we waited for Ilona to return with our drinks. Everything still smelled vaguely of char and campfire.

“A little wrangling incident,” I said. “A dragon crashed down onto the roof, rolled into the courtyard, and got a little flame happy.”

Trystan’s eyebrow arched. “Was anyone hurt?”

I thought briefly of Eden frozen in fear. Standing among the flames. “Thankfully, nothing serious,” I said.

Ilona returned with full tankards, setting them down in front of us. When she was gone, Trystan ran his thumb along the pewter dragon’s tail handle on his mug. “According to palace historians, the Wretch sets down somewhere in these mountains to rest from the first leg of its journey.”

“And that’s where you plan to catch it?”

He nodded.

I sat back in my chair, rubbing my jaw.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

I sighed, setting my forearms against the table. “Nothing. I suppose that’s exactly how I would go about it, too. If I’d been handed this task.”

He nodded, seeming more assured.

“But don’t get me wrong,” I said pointedly. “No amount of money could convince me to follow the Wretch into these mountains.”

“I’m sure some amount of money.”

“Trystan.”

“I know.” He took a long sip from his tankard. “Trust me, I know.”

He wasn’t here because of money. He was here because it was his job. Because he’d signed up to do whatever it took to protect Cai’amar and the royal family. I rubbed my face. “Since when are the kingsguard in the habit of hunting wild dragons?” I asked. “Ones being a nuisance, sure. To relocate them further from human settlements. But that’s not what’s happening here, is it? The Wretch isn’t bothering anyone.”

For the first time since we sat down, Trystan looked uneasy. He clutched his tankard, glancing around at the few other patrons in the pub, taking stock of them. When he turned back to me, his face had grown serious. “You didn’t hear it from me,” he began, lowering his voice to something less than a whisper, “but the king intends to tame the beast.”

My heart thumped. Had the royal family lost their minds? “Why would he attempt that?”

Trystan’s lips twisted. “I suppose because he’s heard the rumors. The strength. The ferocity. He wants a dragon capable of withstanding anything.”

Anything… Seraphine’s whispers from the square echoed in my head. I heard that its scales are so thick no magic can pierce its hide.

“The king’s worried about magic?”

Trystan’s face paled, his jaw clenched tight. He looked more unnerved than I’d ever seen him. “There are rumblings.”

“Rumblings?” I whispered, leaning closer, like that might make it easier to speak of such things.

“Of ill tidings along the border. Some sort of unrest. The council was still waiting for word of the cause when my company was dispatched.”

I frowned at him, propping my head up with my hand. “Whatever these rumblings are, we haven’t heard anything in these parts.”

“And you won’t, if the king can avoid it. The fastest way to spark unease across the land is with whispers that cannot be confirmed or denied. Perhaps it will turn out to be nothing in the end. But if it should be more… If magic is seeping unchecked across our borders, the king wants to be ready.”

Ready to defend Cai’amar from something none of us understood.

“And a dragon like this…” Trystan huffed a laugh. “Well, there isn’t a bigger show of force, is there?”