Page 22 of The Teacup Dragon Sanctuary

‘He might send the bloody bird instead.’ Portia had never been comfortable with the raven, not even when her uncle had been there. Lore was trouble and always had been. Today had not changed her mind about that.

‘Surely you can deal with a bird, Portia. But you should make Seb go out sometimes. It would do him good. And he’s not the only one. When was the last time you had some fun?’

Fun? Portia hadn’t the slightest idea. Work was fun. Or it used to be.

The last of the treats given out, Noah called the dragons back and they flocked to him so he could bring them inside. All but one anyway.

Jade alighted on Portia’s shoulder again and Esme smiled at the little dragon. ‘Isn’t she a beauty? Iris has been on at me to foster. Perhaps I should consider it. I knew they were beautiful, but…’ She glanced at Noah again, several of the little dragons now perched on his head and shoulders while the children ran around him laughing. ‘I had no idea they were so friendly. What do you think?’

The dragons, or the man? Portia wasn’t sure what Esme was getting at. Her friend had never shown much interest in men.

‘They’re a responsibility,’ said Portia cautiously. ‘Not something to be taken on lightly. You should make that clear to your students.’

‘Same thing is true of any pet. Or any person. I think we could all do with reaching out to others a bit more, don’t you? You included. You’re too like Seb sometimes. The Academy let you lock yourself away and live like a hermit but you’re home now. Saffron and I are going out to dinner tomorrow. Maybe you and Ophelia would come along? It’ll be fun. Like old times. A girls’ night out. Or if you want you could ask your brothers and… Oh look,’ she sighed in sudden despair and then raised her voice to a firm and carrying note. The school teacher took over instantly. ‘Tobias Finch, if you need the toilet, go now, before it’s too late.’ She released Portia and stalked towards a small boy hopping up and down in place, too transfixed by teacup dragons to realise that his own body was about to betray him. ‘We’ll be in the Unicorn from seven,’ Esme called out over her shoulder and rapidly ushered Tobias towards the castle.

* * *

For the next few days, apart from one slightly riotous girls’ night out in the Unicorn café, Portia threw herself into making the dragon-scale balm according to the recipe in Uncle Art’s book. It wasn’t a complicated process but she had to wait for the equipment to arrive and then set everything up in the study overlooking the woodlands and out to sea. She had gathered the appropriate herbs and flowers from the cottage garden, and a few more from the forest behind the castle, which spilled down to the southern shore. The process itself would take a few days once she had everything underway, so she didn’t have much to do. She was still helping Noah with the dragons of course. Despite Iris’s insistence, he didn’t seem convinced that their homemade remedy was going to be any better than the commercially produced balm which was barely slowing the dry scale’s progress. His doubts made Portia bristle. Didn’t he think she was capable of following the simplest instructions?

‘Sometimes it just takes longer,’ he told her, as he massaged the creamy substance into the belly of the gold and onyx dragon called Glitter. He applied it morning, noon and night, all the same, much to the delight of each of the ailing dragons who loved nothing better than a good tummy rub. The creature purred and wriggled, enjoying every second. ‘Their connection with magic can cause fluctuations we don’t expect in their care. It’s a common problem which rarely gets attention. I don’t want to do anything hasty.’

Portia was tired and irritable. She’d had another letter from Milo only this morning which told her absolutely nothing of use. Everything was just dragging on. She’d written to him telling him about Art’s book and the various recipes and theories it contained, and he had replied that same day, sending the fastest messenger bird the Academy could provide. But he seemed far more interested in the contents of the book than helping her get herself reinstated. It didn’t help that she had stayed up too late trying to decipher Art’s appalling handwriting – like a spider had rolled in ink and crawled across the page – and her head ached with exhaustion. Now was not the time for Noah bloody Turner to start a lecture.

‘I didn’t ask for this,’ she reminded him shortly. ‘This is Iris’s idea. Take it up with her.’

Noah frowned, his expression troubled. He didn’t want to do that, clearly. He idolised Iris and wouldn’t dream of arguing with her. So, he was going to keep sniping at Portia instead. She knew how this went. She pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to ward off the growing headache.

‘I just…’ Noah began again, paused and then ploughed on in spite of all good sense. ‘How are you going to test it?’

Portia exhaled slowly. Patience… ‘I have the perfect subject right here. Jade won’t mind.’ Jade still had traces of those papery flakes on her scales, especially on the upper underside of her tail. There was no risk to this. It was just a topical cream. Portia wasn’t going to accidentally poison her dragon.

You wouldn’t have known that from the look he shot at her.

‘You’re planning to experiment on Jade?’

What on earth was he on about?

‘It isn’t experimentation. The balm isn’t something new or strange. It’s harmless. An old recipe, tried and trusted. It’s just a richer form of the same cream you’re banging on about, almost exactly the same. I’m using some local ingredients but really⁠—’

Noah set Glitter down into a carrier where the dragon curled up happily. The vet’s face was fixed in a frown. ‘I cannot condone this, Portia.’

‘Condone what?’ She knew her tone was icy. She didn’t care.

He schooled his face to something like understanding, and carried on in a calmer voice. ‘I believe that you mean well, and that you’re an expert apothecary, but that doesn’t mean you can just blithely decide to test whatever concoction you come up with on your dragon. Or on any of them. You don’t have any right to⁠—’

‘I am not doing anything blithely,’ she bit back at him. ‘I am a trained professional, thank you very much, and I have lived with dragons for half my life. Even if I hadn’t, my uncle Art knew more about dragon physiology than anyone this side of the border. Iris has made teacup dragons her life’s work. She trusts me. I realise this is just a stopgap for you, Noah, a means to an end before you head off into the wilds to rediscover the great dragons or whatever it is you think you’re going to do, but we do know a thing or two about looking after their little cousins. And they are just as important.’

‘This isn’t a stopgap!’ He actually had the nerve to look offended. He was probably regretting sharing his dream with her. But he had and it had stuck. He didn’t want to be here any more than she did.

She poked a finger at his chest, hard. ‘Of course it is. You aren’t interested in them. And if I’m supposedly experimenting on them, your only interest is in what they can teach you about the ones that have vanished. You look down on them, and on everyone who cares about them. Don’t pretend you give a damn about them. You see them as nothing but shadows of what came before them. You aren’t interested in them at all. You’re like Moorland and Harvey and all those other members of that wretched dragon fancying association. You think they’re a silly pet, something to be pitied and dismissed at best.’

His back straightened and suddenly he towered over her. It was easy to forget how tall he was, how broad his build. He glowered down at her. ‘Whereas you aren’t interested in them at all! All you care about is getting back to the Academy and your precious work there. If anyone is treating working here as a stopgap, it’s you.’

‘My work there is precious. You have no idea of the cures Milo and I have been responsible for, or the applications of our current work to balance thaumaturgical healing with the physical.’

‘A wild theory.’

‘What would you know about it?’