Page 15 of Magick and Lead
I sighed and dropped the spoon back into the bowl. Reaching out, I stroked Parthar’s head. He rubbed against my touch like a cat.
“I know, sweetie. I know…”
“Sweetie, eh?” I heard the clear tenor of Ollie’s voice behind me as he approached. Like all Torouman, he was a eunuch, and I would have recognized the specific timbre of his voice anywhere.
He knelt next to me, looking at the dragon with knitted brows.
“This is the dragon that bonded with Kit, isn’t it?”
“Charlie,” I corrected. Hearing his name aloud felt like a barb in my chest, a reminder that he’d been lying to me all along—about everything.
“Are we banning the use of his name?” Ollie asked with a teasing smile. He must’ve seen me wince. Nothing escaped a Torouman’s notice.
“Maybe,” I said. “But yes, this was his dragon. His name is Parthar.”
I stroked the little dragon’s head again, and he licked my fingers.
“He’s grown. Hey, buddy,” Ollie said, reaching out. Parthar snarled, curling his upper lip and showing a row of nail-sharp teeth. Ollie pulled back fast, but the little dragon’s wrath was short-lived. A second later, he’d flopped back down to the nest of blankets we’d made for him, looking sad and listless.
“Sorry. He’s not doing well,” I said. “Ever since?—”
Just then, a shout came from across the long hall. My hand went to my sword hilt, and my head snapped in the direction of the sound. Dagar stood in the food line, yelling at the man who’d prepared breakfast. As we watched, he flung his wooden bowl. It broke, sending a splatter of oats across the wall.
“All I was looking forward to was a warm breakfast!” he shouted. “Is that too much to ask?”
Pocha put a hand on his arm, trying to soothe him, but he jerked away and stormed off. Pocha gave us a weary look and followed him out the door.
“Dagar isn’t doing well either…” Ollie observed.
“No…” I agreed. “A dragon without their rider, a rider without their dragon…”
“Both are doomed to wither until madness overtakes them,” Ollie said, finishing the saying. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gazing at Parthar.
“I’ve thought of trying to bond them, of course. I had Dagar sitting with Parthar most of the day yesterday,” I said. “But it doesn’t seem to be working. Probably his bond with…that foreigneris too strong. It’s a shame, because he’s a sweet little guy. And of course, we need all the dragons we can get if we’re going to take back this kingdom. Especially with Dorhane under siege and the hatchery gone. I would hate to have to…”
I trailed off, but of course, Ollie knew my meaning. A dragon who lost their rider and failed to re-bond often became hostile and antisocial. It was too dangerous to keep a dragon like that around, and worse yet to raise a dragon bonded to an enemy. If Dagar couldn’t bond him, he’d have to be killed.
Ollie was leaning forward now, eyeing Parthar with keen attention.
“You know what type of dragon this is?” he asked.
“Tauran,” I shrugged.
Ollie shook his head. “No. Look again.”
I did. There were the reddish gold scales, the little horn buds…
“He’s a tauran,” I said.
Ollie pointed. “No. Look. Behind those horns, there’s another set of horn buds, see? And look at the way his tail is barbed. How old is he supposed to be?”
“About three months,” I said. Ollie’s excitement was making me nervous.
“Look how big he is already. This is no tauran, Essa,” Ollie said. “He’s a stellhan.”
It must have looked comical the way my mouth dropped open. “A stellhan. Like my mother’s dragon?”
Ollie nodded.
