Chapter 9 #3
Would Alayel have placed her here, to cheer me up? Does he even know where the eggs are? But I don’t think he’d take this kind of risk.
“Ava, how did you get here?” I whisper.
The little dragon chirps, which might make sense for her, but is meaningless to me.
I want nothing more than to lie down with Ava and pet her smooth skin, but I need to take her back to her room.
The question is how. If I had a basket, I could put her inside, but I don’t have one.
My bag seems too tight. I place her on the crook of my left arm, then cover her with a cloth, but she moves her wing and pushes it away.
“Shhh,” I whisper. “It won’t be long like this. I know it’s annoying.”
I push the cloth down so it’s stuck between my arm and my ribcage, then open the door.
May Foros help me so nobody sees the little dragon. In fact, it’s another thing I’ll need to do tonight: place flowers by the statue of the God of Luck, as I promised.
Wearing my inconspicuous gray uniform, I make sure to walk in firm but calm steps, as if I was on my way to an errand, even if the “bundle” I’m carrying isn’t exactly still.
Please be silent, I beg little Ava.
She’ll need to be fed and cared for, and I don’t know how to do any of that. Also, someone could be looking for her.
Then again, who placed her in my bedroom? And why? At least I know that her egg hatched, she’s alive, and apparently well. Her little weight in my arm brings me a calming comfort, even if I’m afraid of what will happen if someone finds me walking around the academy with a baby dragon.
I descend to the area near that auditorium, and while I cross some guards, they pay me no mind. Perhaps Alayel is right that this uniform makes me invisible.
When I’m near that door, my hair stands on end, as I see Katrine and a man approaching it. I turn around before they notice me, and walk slowly away from them. From the corner of my eye, I spot them heading to the egg room. What are they going to do if they find out that one dragon is missing?
Suddenly, my arm feels light—the weight of the little dragon no longer there.
I panic, fearing she jumped, fearing she’s fallen on the floor and hurt, but there’s no blue hatchling around or near me.
At this point, Katrine has gone through the door, and I take the cloth and pretend to wipe a column.
It’s a little stupid as far as a cleaning task goes, but nobody knows that.
I just want to see what they’ll do, or maybe find little Ava, but I’m sure I’d spot a dark blue dragon, even a tiny one, against the very white marble floor of this area.
Not even a minute passes, and Katrine and the man come out of the door, each of them carrying a basket.
There’s nothing in their demeanors or expressions that suggests they saw anything unusual.
Could one of the dragons be in the basket?
And then what’s in the second one? They head to a small staircase, giving me only seconds to make a decision.
I follow them and see them going down the steps, but all I do is listen to where they’re going. They open a door two floors down. I wait for a few minutes, and descend to that floor.
There are no cells, just an open area with columns and doors. Perhaps the little dragon—or dragons—are in a room like they were upstairs. Closing my eyes, I focus on the feel of Ava in my arms, then lock in her scent, or at least as much as I perceived through my numb nose.
Her brother should be similar to her, and then maybe they’re both there, even if I don’t know how she got in that basket. I turn right and open a door leading to a dark corridor with no windows, a sole tiny lumos jar lighting the way, then stop before a solid copper door.
They’re here. Or rather, at least one of the little dragons is here, if Ava escaped. I should be looking for her, but I want to see the room first, except that voices come from within.
“This is safe,” Katrine says. “The safest dragon nursery we’ve ever had. We learned from our mistakes.”
My stomach coils at the thought of whatever mistakes happened before.
She continues, “Two strong doors, and nobody else knows they are here.”
They. Is Ava here? How?
Katrine’s voice is muffled, but I make an effort to listen.
“No traitor will try to steal and sell them to the riders. No spy will inform them. And they fare better alone, like in nature.”
I want to hear more, but I fear they could walk out at any minute, so I step away silently and turn to a hallway, where I wait. A moment later, I hear their steps heading back to the staircase. My heart is beating fast, afraid of being caught.
And I’m still worried about Ava. Maybe two hatchlings came out of one egg, and the Dragon Knowledge instructor didn’t notice it. Maybe the dark blue hatchling escaped and is lost in the castle—an easy target.
After waiting agonizing minutes, just to be sure Katrine doesn’t return, I walk silently to that hallway.
The door leading to it is locked, and after a lot of jiggling, my key opens it.
I lock it behind me, then proceed to the hall and the copper door.
I take a deep breath, insert the key, turn—and the door unlocks right away.
Do I really want to do this? Intrude in a secluded part of the academy? Maybe I had no choice, after a little dragon came to my room.
I push the door—and stifle a scream.
A group of mice scatters out of the room in a frantic rush. I’ve been near dragons ten times my size, and I understand the rodents’ fear. When I walk in, I’m surprised that this is so different from the egg room.
Light comes in from minuscule sunholes at the top of the walls.
I know that some of these have lenses augmenting the sun, and I think it’s the case here.
The room is as large as the entire Grease & Spice or Alayel’s royal room, and has some rocks, a box with earth, another with sand, a basin with water, and some potted plants, probably to mimic the dragons’ natural environment.
Of course, it’s not the same. The air here is stuffy, and the little dragons won’t be able to smell the ocean breeze or the rain.
It’s nothing like the island where they would have been born.
I pause and smother any regret that threatens to emerge. These little dragons would be bonded and enslaved by riders. While this room might not be perfect, it will keep them safe, at least for now. Once the dragons are bigger and stronger, they’ll be free. Truly free.
But where are the little dragons? Maybe I’m wrong, and the baskets Katrine and the man carried had something else. They could be preparing this nursery for the hatchlings.
No. They’re here.
A dark blue little head pops up from behind a small rock, and I exhale, so much relief coursing through me. It’s Ava, and I rush to her.
“You little rascal, how did you get here?”
She flies up just a palm, landing on the rock, and I take her in my arms again.
“How did you disappear?”
She emits a soft chirp, and I could swear it sounds as if she’s laughing at me. Maybe I’m a silly human, but I still don’t understand how she came to my room and how she appeared here.
“Where’s your brother?” I ask, my voice as quiet as I can make it.
I’m assuming the other hatchling is male, or perhaps I’m guessing it.
Ava coos.
I whisper, “You know, I’ll need to study dragon speech. Maybe then we can have a conversation. Can you even talk? You’re what? A day old? My brother couldn’t babble anything until he was over six months old.”