“It was an attempt to steal my lands,” the farmer interrupted. “The dragons would destroy the land of Nerissette and place one of their own on your illustrious throne if they could. They can’t be trusted. None of them can be trusted.” He turned toward Winston and narrowed his eyes, in case I hadn’t somehow already gotten his drift.
“Why would we want a dung heap?” Lavian ground out. “It serves no practical purpose for us. Besides, due to the alliance between your Rose and the war chieftain for the black dragons we are joined with your precious throne. We have yoked ourselves to the dirt lovers and their petty squabbles.”
“One more ‘dirt lover’ out of you, one more insult against the race of men, just one more,” I said, “and you’re not going to like the result. Trust me.”
“I highly doubt—”
“Lavian,” Winston said, letting his form waver again. The other dragon immediately dropped his head and stretched out his neck in what I’d learned was the way that dragons kept themselves from getting barbecued and eaten. Not that I thought it was going to do Lavian much good with the mood Winston was in. The man was going to become flambé in about ten seconds if he didn’t get his act together.
“Now, you tell me what happened,” I said, my eyes fixed on Lavian’s son.
He stepped forward, staring hard at the floor, and his shoulders started to shake. “I’m—” He gasped and his entire body began to tremble. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed.
I had to grab the arms of my chair to keep from wrapping my arms around him. He’d set fire to a field. I couldn’t just tell him that it was okay. I didn’t want to punish him, but he could have killed people.
“Your Majesty—” Lavian said.
I held a hand up to silence him before I stood and made my way to the boy. I may not be very good at being a queen yet, but I knew what it was like to be a scared kid. I’d been just as scared as he was ever since my mother had ended up in a coma and I’d gone into foster care.
I dropped to my knees beside the boy before looking up at the two grown men staring down at us. “You two stay quiet. Otherwise I’m going to send you all to the dungeon to think about your manners.”
Rhys, the head of my army and one of my closest friends, let out a barely muffled snort from his post behind my throne. I reminded myself to make a list of all the things he’d missed in the five years he’d been in Nerissette later and then spoil each and every one of them for him. Didn’t he see I was trying to do my queen thing right now?
“Sorry,” he said, his British accent crisp among the softer, more slurred accents of Nerissette. “Must have been something in my throat. Go on, Your Majesty.”
It wasn’t bad enough that I doubted my ability to rule an entire country. Now I had him undermining me? Just what I needed from a supposed friend.
I paused a moment. “Thank you. As I was saying, one more word and someone’s going to the dungeon.”
Rhys coughed again, and I shot him a disapproving glance as the young dragon leaned toward me and sniffled against my shoulder. Obviously someone didn’t want to keep a lid on the fact that the Crystal Palace of Nerissette was lacking in dungeons. The jerk. Didn’t he realize that occasionally white lies were necessary when you were making completely unsupportable threats to show your authority? As well as not-so-white lies about other things just to keep your people calm? Like the unknown status of certain power-hungry dark wizards with an eye on world domination, for example.
“I was flying with Da,” the boy began. Putting aside thoughts about dungeons, I tried to focus on how the farmer’s field had been set on fire. “He was teaching me how to dive and do loop-de-loops and how to race.”
“Then what happened?” I tried to keep my voice even and nonthreatening so he’d continue talking and I could figure out what the heck to do about all this.
“I was flying really fast, so fast that even Da couldn’t keep up with me, and then I got this smell in my nose and everything started to itch and I couldn’t help myself, Your Majesty. I tried and I tried but it was either sneeze where I was or take the chance of setting the Forest of Ananth on fire. There hasn’t been much rain lately so I was afraid that if I sneezed in the forest—”
“You’d set the trees up in flames, and we’d be fighting a fire in half the villages on that side of Wevlyn Lake?” I turned to look at the two men, stunned. The boy had almost set a forest on fire and they were in here fighting over a field? One field?
“That would have been bad,” the boy said quietly against my shoulder. “Wouldn’t it?”
“Over a thousand people could have died because a dragon fledgling needed to sneeze.” I rubbed my face and tried to ignore the headache forming behind my eyes.
“It’s as I told you,” the farmer said, his face now a brilliant red. “They want to burn us all and take our land.”
“Why didn’t your son follow the training guidelines?” Winston asked Lavian as I held the young fledgling closer to me as his sobs slowed. “Everyone knows that fledgling dragons are only to fly over water until given further approval by the Dragos Council.”
“It’s possible I was shortsighted,” the dragon said, his voice quiet and his face the same color as the farmer’s standing next to him. “He is a red dragon and we are known for our flying abilities, as well as our ability to control our transformation. Even still, I should have been more cautious about his training.”
“Right. So.” I looked back and forth between the two men before settling on Lavian, shaking my head. “You, Lavian of the red dragon clan, member of the Council of Dragos, so on and so forth, will pay for the value of Farmer Salvachio’s wheat.”
“What?” Lavian said, his eyes bugging out of his head for a moment.
“Mr. Salvachio.” I ignored the angry dragon. “I am going to request that the dryads come to your fields and see if they can’t heal it so that you can plant again. If it works, we’re done here. If the dryads tell me that you won’t be able to use the field next year, Lavian will have to buy those crops as well, at the same price as he’s paying for these.”
“I—” the red dragon protested.
“As my mom used to tell me: you did wrong, and now you’ve got to pay for it.” I narrowed my eyes at him as I hugged his son tighter. “Your son burned down a field because you weren’t watching him. That means it’s your responsibility to pay for the damages.”
“Who says he’ll actually pay?” Salvachio asked. “Everyone knows dragons never pay their debts.”
“Enough,” I snapped. “I’m not only sick of the dirt lover comments, but I’m really sick of the constant anti-dragon things I hear as well. We’re all Nerissetteans—”
Rhys coughed behind me—again—and I had to fight the urge to turn around and smack him. Last I checked he hadn’t been around to make a suggestion on the whole naming-the-people topic. He and Winston had both skipped that meeting to go hunting instead, and I really wasn’t in the mood for him to second-guess me now. If he didn’t stop it, I was going to get his girlfriend—my very best friend, Mercedes—to use her super-special dryad powers to turn him into plant food. Or even worse, a fern. I was pretty sure she could manage to turn him into a fern. Then I was going to forget to water him.
“We’re all in this together. So no more interspecies bashing, got it?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Salvachio bowed his head before me. “I shall endeavor to be more tolerant, if it pleases you.”
“As will I,” Lavian said, his face still mottled red.
“Good.” I clapped my hands together and nodded at them both before letting go of the fledgling and returning to my throne, squirming to find a comfortable spot as I straightened my overly long skirts. “That settles that. Lavian, you’re paying for the wheat. Salvachio, I’ll set things up with the dryads. If everything’s good, then court is in recess until I get back.”