A Muddle of Magic. Alexandra Rushe

inclined her head. “After you.”

      Brefreton grasped the green stone around his neck and his form began to shimmer. Though the breeze off the water had stilled, his tattered cloak spread out from his shoulders like a pair of wings. Raine’s skin tingled as Brefreton shifted into a red hawk and took to the sky. With a shrill kee-eeee-arr, he left them standing on the shore.

      “Stand,” the rowan barked as his warriors shuffled and murmured in alarm.

      Glory smoothed her woolen gloves. “You’re going to have to do something about that one of these days, Gorne. They’ve had thousands of years to adjust.” She lifted her slender arms to the sky. “Fugvark,” she cried in a ringing voice.

      Magic spiced the air and Glory’s slender body flickered. An instant later, she turned into a brown wren and fluttered away.

      The rowan wheeled his horse around. “What about you, milady?”

      Raine stood quietly beside Flame on the wharf, stroking the dragon’s scaly neck. She started when she realized the king was speaking to her. “Y-Your Majesty?”

      “Bree tells me you have talent. Are you going to turn into a little birdie, too?”

      “No, Your Majesty.” Raine blushed. “I don’t do birds.”

      “That’s something to be thankful for, in any event. My men will escort your party to the Citadel.”

      “Begging your pardon, sire, but it might be best if we made the journey alone,” Raven said. “Flame’s not used to strangers. He might get excited.”

      “What of it?”

      “He’s a dragon, sir. Dragons breathe fire.”

      “Gods. We’ll ride ahead, then. See that nothing oversets him. I don’t want my horses roasted, or, Tro forbid, my men.”

      “And when we reach the Citadel? What do you mean to do with the dragon, then?”

      The rowan scowled. “Pack him off to Udom with the rest of the Kronlings, I suppose.”

      “No,” Raine cried, hurrying up to him. “You can’t send Flame away. He’s a baby.”

      “Your ‘baby’ is the size of an ox cart, milady, and a firebreather, at that.” The rowan looked down at her from his horse. “The city is no place for a dragon.”

      “You gave me and mine sanctuary,” Raine said, “and that means protection and shelter.”

      “I know what sanctuary means, young lady. I’m the bloody king.”

      Raven stepped up to the rowan’s horse. “Raine and the creature have an unusual bond, sire. They speak to one another.” He tapped his temple. “Mind to mind. What’s more, despite his size, Flame is young and unable to fend for himself.”

      The Rowan let out a blistering stream of profanities. “Very well,” he said at last. “Where do you propose I keep him? I’ve no place for a dragon.”

      “What about the old mews, sire?” Raven said. “They’ve been empty for years. Flame will be out of the way, and Clegg will see to him.”

      “Clegg?” Raine asked.

      “The royal stablemaster,” Raven explained. “He has a way with wild things and Kronlings.”

      Raine shook her head. “I can’t leave Flame with a stranger.”

      “Be reasonable, Raine,” Raven said. “You can’t keep him in your room.”

      “No, by gods,” the rowan said. “No dragons in the keep. Hedda will throw a dish.”

      “What of the queen?” Raven asked without inflection. “She is well?”

      “Aye. She keeps the dressmakers busy.”

      “And my brother Carr?”

      “Off hunting with Hedda’s family in the north,” the rowan said. “He should be home by Trolach.”

      Raine listened absently to their conversation, her gaze on the dragon. Flame was doing his best to catch a dragonfly, but the insect eluded him. Frustrated, he slammed his spiked tail, smashing half a dozen pavers.

      “I suppose he is too big to keep indoors,” Raine said, heaving a sigh. “Oh, dear. He’s never going to understand.”

      “You won’t be far away,” Raven said. “You can visit him every day.”

      “It’s settled then,” the rowan said. “I’ll speak to Clegg when I reach the Citadel and make the necessary provisions. Bring the creature in through the East Gate, but, for pity’s sake, wait until nightfall. I don’t want to cause a panic.” He shook his head. “Gods, a bloody dragon.”

      Urging his steed up the stony shelf, the rowan clattered away with his men, leaving Raine and Raven alone on the dock with Flame.

      “I must speak to Gurnst about the cargo,” Raven said.

      “Of course,” Raine said. “Would you please find Chaz for me? I’d look for him myself, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave Flame alone.”

      “Agreed. No telling what he might do. I’ll find the boy straight away. I won’t be gone long.”

      “Don’t worry about me. I have a dragon.”

      “Good point.” Raven studied her. “Don’t tease yourself about Flame. He’ll have the best of care, I assure you. Fresh air and sunshine, and room to move about.”

      “I’m not worried about Flame. Not really. I know the rowan will keep him safe, because of the oath, if for no other reason.”

      “Then what’s got you blue deviled?”

      “It’s Bree.” Raine bit her lip. “You heard what he said.”

      “Oh, that. Pay it no mind. Bree was angry. He’s used to calling the tune and watching others dance, but you surprised him.” He gave her a crooked grin. “You do that with some regularity, you know. Surprise people.”

      “But, the war—”

      “War was inevitable the moment the Eye was taken.”

      He turned and strode across the gangplank, leaving her and Flame on the quay. Raine looked around, the back of her neck prickling. Though the streets were deserted, she felt curious eyes watching them from the shuttered windows along the waterfront.

      Morven?

      Yes, Flame?

      Why do humans ride big sheep?

      Sheep? Raine jerked her gaze back to Flame. The dragon’s gaze followed the rowan’s party with interest as it disappeared up the street. Oh. Those aren’t sheep. Those are horses.

      Do shorses taste good?

      Horses, Raine repeated. Horses are different from sheep. They aren’t for eating, so don’t even think about it.

      Flame exhaled through his nostrils, sending a thin stream of smoke into the air. Flame cannot help what he thinks. The shorses make Flame want to bite them, with their long faces and big, soft eyes.

      Listen to me, Flame. You must not eat the rowan’s horses. We’re his guests, and he wouldn’t like it.

      The rowan is the human with the glowing mark?

      Yes.

      His disguise is not very good. Flame can see him.

      Raine was startled. “What do you mean, you—”

      A silvery whinny made Raine look up. Mauric cantered down the dock on Goblin. Mauric’s horse was a fine specimen, but the horse galloping behind him on weightless hooves put Goblin to shame, a golden stallion with an elegant, narrow head and eyes alight with intelligence. The steed spied