Page 193 of The Black Witch

* * *

I huddle close to Aislinn in the North Tower’s hallway as she takes her leave.

Her face is stark in the flickering lantern light, almost gaunt. A freezing rain has moved in, and it pelts the window beside us, a chilling draft seeping through.

Aislinn stops and turns to me. “Maybe Yvan Guriel needs to save his dragon after all,” she ventures tentatively.

I eye her speculatively—it’s such a brazen statement coming from my quiet friend. I cock my head in thought as her meaning dawns.

“Escape,” I voice, a picture of flight forming in my mind.

Aislinn nods, her brow knit tight. “The Icarals...they’ll have to get out, Elloren. And...maybe Marina, too. At some point. And the Lupines...” She breaks off, pained, and looks away.

Jarod.

There could come a time when the Gardnerians force the Lupines off their land, and that time could be soon.

Aislinn meets my eyes once more. “They’re sealing off the borders. But...dragons can fly.”

“Yes, they can, can’t they?” I agree with a sly smile. “Straight over borders.” I consider this possibility. “The dragon’s in a cage,” I warn her. “Made of Elfin steel.”

She takes a steadying breath. “Don’t you have Sage Gaffney’s wand?”

I spit out a dismissive sound. “I do. And Trystan’s powerful. But magic that can break Elfin steel—if those spells exist, he doesn’t have access to them.”

“What if I knew where we could find them?”

I stare at her. “How could you possibly?”

“There’s a spellbook called the Black Grimoire,” she says. “Only the Mage Council and military have access to it. It contains highly protected spells. Military spells. My father has a copy of it in his office, and he’s away meeting with the Northern Lupines. He won’t be back for at least another month.”

I stare at her, disbelieving. “Aislinn, one does not simplyborrowa military grimoire.”

Aislinn slumps down, timid, her expression roiling with conflict, but then her jaw stiffens with resolve and she meets my eyes. “Well, I’m going to borrow it. And I’ll have it back to him before he even notices it’s gone.”

I’m stunned by her boldness.

And proud. So incredibly proud.

“Well,” I tell her, a smile spreading across my face. “I suppose it’s time to speak to Yvan Guriel about freeing his dragon.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Military Dragon

The next evening, the atmosphere in the kitchens is as dark and oppressive as the day before, everyone’s faces drawn and rattled.

“I need to speak with you,” I tell Yvan as he comes in from the cold and stoops to load wood into my stove, the heat blasting out like a hot wave.

He looks around warily, the evening shift thinly populated, Iris and Bleddyn blessedly elsewhere. “Now?” Yvan asks as he shoves a log into the stove, the lean muscles of his arms tensing as he does so.

“Soon.”

He pushes the iron stove’s door shut. “Meet me outside after you’re done with whatever you’re working on.”

* * *

I finish prepping an apple pie, then find Yvan near the livestock pens, a lamp in hand.

---