Page 40 of The Infirmary for Dragon Burns and Midair Mishaps

“So that is why they’re really here? For the dragon?”

Vaela nodded. “And while they’re busy doing that, we will be busy with our own project.”

“I don’t know,” I said uneasily. It was one thing for me to risk everything, but dragging another person into what could potentially turn into a mess? I didn’t feel right about it.

“Please,” she said, grasping at her hair with both hands. “I need something to occupy my mind or I’ll spend all my time fretting over Trystan, up there in those cursed mountains, trying not to die in pursuit of the Wretch.”

I watched her forehead crease with concern. If she needed a distraction, that was the least I could give her, right?

“Besides,” she said, her words soft but serious. “Why should you be the only one to risk everything?”

My heart hammered in my chest. I didn’t want to risk everything; I just wanted to prevent unnecessary deaths.

“I can help,” she said. “If you’ll let me.”

I stared up at her, studying those twinkling eyes. “I guess you’ve already proven to be quite reckless. I can’t say I’m surprised to hear you’re on board.”

She flashed me her bandaged hand. “Reckless? I’ve been taking excellent care of this.”

Amusement tugged at my lips as I feathered my finger along the bandage. “Excellent is maybe too strong a word.”

Vaela lowered her hand. “As far as I see it, this thing is simple. You need scales and fire. I can provide scales and fire. And in return⁠—”

“In return?” I said, my voice leaping.

She laughed. “You didn’t think I was doing this only out of the goodness of my heart, did you?”

I crossed my arms. “I thought we’d just discussed the brother thing. And I figured some sensible part of you might have a desire not to accidentally be burnt to a crisp one day.”

“I suppose I would like that,” she mused. “But there’s something more. Something I need help with.”

I frowned. What could she possibly want from me that she didn’t already have?

Vaela reached down and unhooked her prosthesis, balancing on one leg as she placed it on my desk with a heavy thunk. “Since you’ve got a bit of experience, do you think you could improve the design to stop me from slipping on dragonback?”

I stared at it, intrigued by the design. By the coils of spring. The shaved wood. The bent metal. “Why not just ask a blacksmith?” I wondered.

“Because they’re not always the most gentle, and I’d like to not have to rebuild the prosthesis from scratch. I need someone with a… softer touch.” Vaela held her hand out, giving me a small smile that warmed me down to my toes. “Someone that can be resourceful with a few tools at their disposal,” she said, echoing my earlier words. “What do you think?”

I stared at the prosthesis. It looked like a puzzle box I wanted to solve. “I don’t know much about prosthetic limbs,” I admitted. “But if you’re willing to trust me”—I lifted my hand, palm sliding against hers, ignoring the sudden flash of heat—“I’ll give it my best shot.”

14

EDEN

There were kingsguard monitoring the mountain pass. For a day and a half, the soldiers had taken shifts, watching for signs of the Wretch approaching.

The dragon’s cries carried on the wind, sometimes mimicking screech owls in the dark, sometimes booming like thunder. But with every passing hour, the cries drew ever closer to town.

By day, the kingsguard sat on horseback, riders ready to depart immediately should the beast be spotted, and by night, they stood vigil with lanterns, beady eyes turned to the sky, tracing the shape of the moon. If the Wretch appeared under the cover of darkness, it would be harder to spot, but the kingsguard seemed determined.

When they weren’t on shift at the mountain pass, they lingered about town, buying commemorative migration trinkets from the merchants, sharpening their swords at the blacksmith’s forge and entertaining the multitude of questions asked by the school children that trailed after them.

I steered clear of the soldiers when I could, a constant sense of unease bubbling in my gut when I lingered. It wasn’t as if I was walking around with dragon scales in my hands, yapping about crafting illegal armor, but some silly part of me worried they’d be able to see the truth of my actions if they looked too closely at me.

Stepping out of the bakery, I averted my eyes quickly as I passed a pair of patrolling soldiers. I stared at their feet, trudging on and—oomph!

Stars, ow!