Chapter 19
Several old friends of Iris found her in the late afternoon, and filled the tent with chatter and delight at the teacup dragons, discussing breeds and natures, and generally treating Noah like a handsome boy who could do some party tricks.
Finally, Iris took pity on him and sent him off to get some dinner.
Portia had not yet returned. He’d hoped to talk to her.
But it had all been too awkward and there were people around them all the time. They never seemed to get a moment.
And what was the point anyway? He would be leaving. He would have to. He had never intended to stay on Starling Island this long if he was honest. He should have packed it all in weeks ago. It was only when the dragons fell ill that he’d felt obligated to stay and help.
The whole situation suddenly seemed to have become far too complicated.
All he had ever wanted to do was study dragons. The great dragons. He had never expected the teacup variety to become so great a part of his life. They were endearing, fascinating creatures who he had to admit were fast capturing his heart.
Not to mention Portia Starling. All of them in fact, her whole family, their friends. And all the islanders.
But mostly Portia.
He reached the top of the queue at the food stall and ordered a roast beef sandwich, which came in thick slices of soft bread.
The whole thing dripped juices so he wrapped it in napkins and carried it, and his cup of tea, off to a quiet corner of the auditorium where a scattering of benches had been pushed up against the wall.
Better to fortify himself for the evening because there was no telling how the first round of judging was going to go.
Iris had been all atwitter about her friend the ambassador being one of the judges and how impressed he had been with the teacup dragons from the sanctuary.
She had come back from their tea like a woman thirty years younger.
But everyone said Lady Moorland had the whole thing sewn up and anyone who wasn’t on her good side would be lucky to place at all, let alone progress to the next round tomorrow, when the queen herself would join the panel of judges.
Perhaps he should have been more careful with what he’d said to the horrible woman. But when he saw her grab at Jade, and the horror on Portia’s face… he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried.
It would all end in tears, he thought dourly. Wasn’t that what his father had always said? He knew he’d made a dreadful mistake the moment she glared at him and swept off in her huff. But then… then Portia had been in his arms and he couldn’t think at all.
The sandwich was mouthwatering and he was starving. He didn’t actually remember when he’d last had anything to eat.
‘You!’ The whipcrack voice demanded attention.
He looked up to see Lady Moorland bearing down on him.
She had shed her entourage. Though decked in pearls and tweeds, she had the look of a woman on a mission of retribution.
He knew this was coming. And now it was too late to avoid her. ‘With me. Now.’
He swallowed the mouthful of food on a suddenly dry throat, almost choking.
‘Lady Moorland,’ he managed. He didn’t move. He’d never taken kindly to being ordered around. ‘How can I help you?’
She gave him a poisonous look. ‘Oh, so you do remember who I am. Now, at least. And do you by any remote chance remember what I can do for you, Noah Turner? And what I can withhold? We need to talk, you and I. Immediately. Follow me.’
He was cornered with nowhere to go. And she was right, he did remember who she was, what she could do and what she could, more specifically, not do. He didn’t have a choice. He was twice the size of her but he felt like a boy who was being hauled up in front of the schoolmistress.
‘All right,’ he said, carefully folding up the rest of his sandwich in the napkins.
‘For Wenn’s sake,’ she snarled impatiently. ‘Just throw it away.’
That said it all, he thought. He was not going to throw perfectly good food away, but Lady Moorland would. He ignored her instruction and stowed it in the pocket of his jacket, hoping the juices from the beef wouldn’t soak through the wrappings before he could finish it.
It wasn’t like he had spare suits lying around and he needed to be presentable for the show later. He drained the rest of the tea and followed her reluctantly.
Virginia opened the door to the administration area of the auditorium. The stairs led up to meeting rooms overlooking the main part of the building and Noah followed her inside, liking this less and less. It was quiet up here. Too quiet.
‘Hurry up, man,’ she chided him. ‘I can’t afford to be seen with you here. People will talk and we cannot have that.’
The feeling was mutual. He didn’t say that. It had been funny to mock her earlier, in front of everyone, especially to defend Portia and Jade but now… now he regretted the rash action.
She opened another door and ushered him inside an empty office, with a desk and a chair and very little else.
Windows looked out over the auditorium filled with colourful tents, and in the distance he could see the arena where the competition itself would be held.
People were milling about and somewhere right over on the other side of the whole place the Starling Island sanctuary tent was still mobbed.
‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at?’ Lady Moorland snarled the moment she had followed him inside. ‘What are you even doing here with them?’
‘I’m their vet,’ he reminded her. ‘Of course I’m here with them. The care and management of those dragons is my responsibility and—’
‘When you and I last met, you promised me information on what Iris Starling is up to on that island in return for funding that stupid expedition of yours. Not to mention making sure it would get approval. I expected to hear from you after a fortnight at most. And so far, Dr Turner, all you have done is delay and now sabotage me. It will not do.’ He turned to face her and drew in a breath to reply.
She held out her hand, right in front of her mouth and before he knew what was happening, blew on it, hard.
Dust billowed right into his face and he coughed as he inhaled it, blinking, trying to wave it away, and failing. ‘Tell me everything. This instant.’
He drew in another breath, his heart pounding, as something tightened around him like a noose. Magic, he realised. Lady Moorland gave a thin smile when she saw his confusion.
‘A truth spell,’ she explained. ‘Worth every penny. You won’t be able to lie to me, Noah. Now, talk.’
He opened his mouth to tell her that he’d lie to her if he bloody well wanted to, and the words died in his throat.
No, this wasn’t happening. Every spark of rebellion in him ignited. How dare she do this to him? How dare she do it to anyone? Use of magic like this was completely illegal. So was selling it. If she was prepared to do this—
He had gone to the island because she’d offered to fund his expedition if he would pass on information to her about Iris Starling and her sanctuary.
But honestly, all he’d expected to find was a doddery old woman with a bunch of ailing teacup dragons.
Certainly not a mentor, and a purpose. Not friendships and fulfilment.
Definitely not Portia and whatever they…
Blast, what a mess he had got himself into now. Bespelled and stuck here with this harpy, at her mercy and in her power. He needed to think.
He picked his words with care.
‘It’s a sanctuary for rescue dragons. Nothing more,’ he said. That was almost true. It was what she wanted to hear anyway, wasn’t it?
‘A sanctuary.’ She drawled out the word.
‘Rescue dragons. Do you expect me to believe that? Look at the creatures. Who has ever seen a rescue dragon look as healthy as that? Not to mention their behaviour. They’ve been trained more expertly than any I’ve ever seen.
How does she do it? What secrets has Iris Starling been hiding there? ’
Secrets? He thought of the elixir. But that wasn’t Iris’s secret.
That was Portia’s work. And the magic that had been involved in its creation…
that came from the island. If Portia was to be believed, right from the depths of its rocks, its heart.
There was Art’s book of course, but Seb had hidden that away again and he wasn’t going to mention that to anyone he decided.
He didn’t think someone like Virginia Moorland should have access to anything like that. Or any information about it. And none of those things were Iris’s secret.
His heart raced and he scrambled through his thoughts. He needed to answer her.
‘Lady Moorland,’ he began carefully, ‘if you’ll just be patient I’m sure there’s some other arrangement we can come to. The expedition is the real thing of value here, not information about Starling Island.’
‘Your expedition? To Elanholm? What, so you can dig around and find whatever remains of the great draconic civilisation?’ Her voice dripped with scorn.
‘Well, truth goes both ways I suppose. They’re gone, you fool, all of them.
The people who got left behind are backwards and determined to keep any surviving information like that to themselves.
They will be very unlikely to welcome you.
Even their ambassador who pretends to be oh so interested in my work with the teacup dragons doesn’t care about Shinael.
He’s determined to keep us all out of Elanholm. ’
Noah’s heart gave a jolt. If that was true, then why had she made her offer?
‘You promised you could get me in. Funding and access, you said.’
She smiled like a contented cat. ‘And I still can. I have contacts you wouldn’t believe.
Perhaps less than legal but what does that matter now?
’ She held up a single finger. ‘But quid pro quo, Noah. Tell me where they got those dragons. Is she breeding them or smuggling them in from somewhere? What is Iris Starling’s secret? Don’t try to lie. You can’t.’
He stared at her. Tell her about the elixir and the magical connections the dragons shared with those on the island and he could have everything he had ever wanted. And if he didn’t…
But he couldn’t.
He needed to pick his words with care.
‘I swear to you, there’s nothing I can tell you, Lady Moorland.’
That was the truth.
‘See reason, Noah.’ Her voice gentled, smoothed itself out to something closer to cajoling. ‘They can’t help you get what you want but I can. And I will. However, if there are no secrets to be ferreted out… there’s something else you can do for me. A perfectly easy task for you to perform.’
She pulled a small vial from her handbag and placed it on the desk. It contained a clear amber liquid. He stared at it, dread rising inside him. He couldn’t read the label from this distance but he didn’t need to. He could guess.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, hoping against hope. She couldn’t be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. And even having such a thing here…
It looked like Dewsalt, a highly restricted poison.
She laughed, a vicious and cruel sound. ‘Something that will solve all our problems here today. Give a few drops to each of the little beasts. You’re a veterinary specialist, Noah darling.
I’m sure you can give them enough to just knock them out rather than kill them.
If you’re as good as everyone says anyway.
You’ll need to be very careful though. I’m not sure of the strength. ’
‘I’m not poisoning them.’
‘A solution,’ she sneered, victoriously.
‘For both of us. Remove them from the competition one way or the other, and I will fund your expedition, and all your research for years to come. I will expedite every permission you need. I’ll even pay to kit you out for the journey.
Everything and anything you want. A very small price to pay for that, surely? ’
No, he couldn’t. What she was asking of him… it was monstrous.
He shook his head, aware that all his plans were shattering around him. As a patron she could give him everything he had ever wanted and more. As an enemy she would keep all his dreams from ever coming true.
But he couldn’t do this. Never.
‘Absolutely not,’ he told her.
Virginia growled in frustration and then shook her head as if profoundly disappointed.
‘Very well. I had hoped this would not be necessary but needs must, I suppose. I can change your mind.’ She pulled another slip of paper from her bag and unfurled it.
It was filled with more sparkling dust, purple this time.
She blew it in his face before he realised that it was all happening again.
‘This, I’m told, is far more potent than a truth spell. And if you won’t see reason—’
The thing that clamped down all around him was indeed more powerful than the truth spell. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t have any defences. Like he’d told Portia, he had the magical abilities of a stone.
‘Lift your hand,’ said Virginia, as if testing out a new toy.
His hand jerked up all by itself, his muscles screaming as he tried to stop it.
She smiled broadly and Noah felt his body try to recoil in alarm. But he couldn’t move. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful. Excellent. Take the poison, and do as I have instructed.’
He grabbed the bottle. It felt like ice in his hand.
‘And Noah,’ she added, almost as an afterthought, but still carrying all that smug triumphalism, ‘forget all about this, there’s a good man. About meeting me here, about my instructions, about all of it. Just poison the dragons, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. All you have ever wanted.’
She paused as she swept by him, rising on her toes to press an icy cold kiss on his cheek.
‘How delightful,’ she purred, the sound sending ice through his veins. ‘Maybe I’ll find other uses for this as well in the future. I must get more from my supplier. Wonderful.’
And then she was gone, leaving him standing there, holding poison, with instructions that went against everything he believed in, and unable to do anything but obey her.