Doravan clutched Amalla and shielded her from the dragon. It leaped for them, and Amalla tumbled from Doravan’s arms. It was like she had thrown herself.

  “Amalla!” He grabbed her arm, but the dragon got her first. It hissed at him. He looked for a sword, a fire poker, any weapon he could use, but the dragon didn’t attack Amalla. It laid her tenderly on the bed and sniffed at her legs. Amalla breathed shakily and stroked the dragon.

  “Can you heal it?” she whispered.

  The dragon breathed white smoke over Amalla’s legs. The smoke dissipated into the air, and the flesh on Amalla’s thighs began to creep back into one piece. Amalla sighed loudly.

  The dragon peered at Doravan.

  “Let her rest,” she said in a silky voice. “I am indebted to you for bringing her back to me, but her healing requires space.”

  “Are you … her dragon?”

  The dragon smiled. “You have questions. Let us talk.” She slithered right over Doravan’s head, swept him out with her tail, and shut the door behind her in a single fluid motion. Doravan caught one last glimpse of Amalla sleeping before the door closed.

  “I am Vyin’mok’amall.” The dragon ushered Doravan down the hallway and into the throne room. “I chose Amalla as my human companion many years ago. I have no fire, only smoke that can heal. For my protection, she has kept me in her quarters and never mentioned me to anyone.”

  “Wait. Amalla is a Dragon Mage?”

  Vyin’mok’amall gave him a withering stare, and he stopped. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping our secret, I wouldn’t mind letting you live.”

  Doravan held up his hands. “I apologize. Truly.” His heart raced and his head spun as he tried to piece it all together. He tried not to trip over his words. “What … what abilities did you give her? Could she have healed herself?”

  The dragon tossed her head. “No. I had to give her something to defend herself with. She can summon lightning, even during the sunniest of days.”

  Doravan thought back to their escape from Ka’lyl, the lightning that had come out of nowhere and struck him.

  He sat down. “How lucky. And unfair.”

  “Pardon?”

  Doravan shook his head. “The princess gets a dragon, powers. As a child, it sounds like. I’ve been friends with Shen’al for many years, and never once has he offered magic to me.”

  Amalla’s dragon snorted. “Shen’al? The skeptic?”

  “You know him?”

  “All dragons are familiar with him. At least, any who aren’t still hatchlings. Two hundred and fifty, and he still doesn’t have a mage. I take it you are his … partial companion.”

  Doravan smiled, although his expression was empty. “I suppose so.”

  “How long have you been friends, as you said?”

  “Five years.” Doravan thought back to what Shen’al had said. “Perhaps eight.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Amalla’s dragon nodded. “There is hope for him, then. He does not stay with a human for more than a month. Don’t press him on the issue, and he will probably naturally give you magical abilities. Selecting a Dragon Mage requires great trust, and it seems like you are well on your way to acquiring that.”

  Which is why he cares so much about lies. Doravan tapped his foot on the floor. To get to the throne and repair Mengor, he had to gain Amalla’s confidence. To do that, he had to gain Shen’al’s favor.

  As though reading his thoughts, the silver dragon crept through the castle with the baby hanging from his mouth in a stretchy swaddle. When he saw Amalla’s dragon, he stopped. He lowered the baby into his hand.

  “Vyin’mok? What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  “I live here. And the princess is my mage, so it’s Vyin’mok’amall now. What are you doing with a baby?”

  Shen’al shushed her, then proceeded to tell her everything that happened. Doravan produced his notebook and started a new plan at the back. “Gaining Trust.” He didn’t have a great idea of how that would go, but he knew his basic objectives: get Shen’al and Amalla to entrust him with everything they had.

  “The king is dead?” Amalla’s dragon turned to look back down the hallway. “And the princess knows?”

  “No one else does. Many of the royal council were killed in The Ganton.” Doravan put his notebook away. “I’m glad you healed her, because we need to get Mengor back on its feet before Ka’lyl returns.”

  Amalla’s dragon narrowed her eyes. “That filthy animal. I thought I could teach Amalla how to summon a storm powerful enough to blow him to pieces before he came to Mengor, but I have been too slow.”

  “I almost did,” the princess said weakly, stumbling through the hall. Doravan and Vyin’mok’amall dove to help her, but she waved them away. “It is time to bring the remaining council and decide what we are going to do. Dragons, follow me. Doravan, go alert your uncle. Tell him we need the council together and that he will stand for the king.”

  Doravan had nearly forgotten about his uncle. He helped Amalla sit in one of the hall chairs, and he ran for the treasury. His uncle was meticulously dividing coins, and seemed concerned when he saw Doravan walk in.

  “Uninvited from the banquet, were you?”

  “Uncle, Shyyda has been destroyed by the Hoarder.”

  The coins Vimos was counting clattered to the floor. He stood. “What about their dragon?”

  Doravan frowned. “How did you know about–? It doesn’t matter. The Hoarder destroyed their castle, and it fell on their dragon.”

  Vimos went pale and sat back down. “That dragon was our safeguard. That’s why Mengor and Shyyda didn’t rally against Ka’ran’ere’geth in the first place.”

  “And you just let all of the other countries die?!” Doravan sucked in a huge breath. “The princess needs you to represent Eremis at council. He died in The Ganton, and so did the other officials traveling with us.”

  Vimos shook his head. “You represent the king. I’m too old for this now.” He pulled the Keeper’s Talisman, a massive golden disk carved with the phoenix emblem of Mengor, and lowered it over Doravan’s head.

  “Uncle, I’m not ready for this.” Doravan moved to take it off, but Vimos held it in place.

  “You have to be. I am no dragon fighter, and I am the reason the Hoarder is still here.”

  Doravan’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “A story for another time. I am not equipped for this task, but you are. You have it in your blood to become a Dragon Mage, and the princess needs you. Take your place as the Treasurer. Tell Amalla and the council that you will now oversee the coffers.” He pulled a white key, likely made of bone, out of his robe pocket. “You are also responsible for the princess’s dragon. The princess is a Dra–,”

  “Dragon Mage,” Doravan mumbled. “I’m the last one to learn a lot of things, apparently.”

  Vimos peered at him. “I suppose. The dragon is now under your care. The Treasurer not only guards the coffers, but the royal dragons. Eremis was never chosen to be a mage, so you only have Amalla’s dragon as your responsibility.” Vimos paused. “I wonder if a dragon could have saved Eremis’s life. It’s a shame he was so foolish. I hoped he would change and become a mighty king one day.”

  Doravan took the key. “Uncle, are you sure you want me to be the Treasurer? You know where I came from. I’m a con man in my soul. I lie for what I want.”

  Vimos laid his hand on Doravan’s shoulder. “But it’s been so long. You’ve worked hard to be honest since I found you.”

  Doravan didn’t look up at his uncle. Suddenly the thought of the kingdom’s money in his hands made him feel sick. And if Amalla became the queen of Mengor, he might have a lot more than that to make him think twice about his coup.