Page 27 of The Teacup Dragon Sanctuary

‘I – I should have listened⁠—’

He shook his head solemnly. ‘No time for that now,’ he told her and tried to offer an encouraging smile, although she could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. He was as worried as she was. ‘I’m here to offer my help. We need to fix this as quickly as possible, that’s all there is to it.’

Portia nodded. He was right. Later on, if she could fix this, she would allow him to lecture her all he wanted, simply out of gratitude that he didn’t do it now. There wasn’t any time for their acrimonious exchanges.

Portia had always relied on herself alone. That had been her nature. She’d been the one to look after the others, to take responsibility for them. She’d never expected to need help from her siblings, or the islanders. And certainly not from Noah. But now, it felt like everything was shifting around her. She opened the door and ushered him inside. The curtains were still closed, and everything still set up to create the cursed balm. She made her way to the desk, pushing aside her own notebooks to haul out Art’s book and open it, desperately leafing through the pages until she found the recipe.

Carefully she read over every word again, double-checked every amount but there was nothing out of place. She had followed it to the letter. Every last thing, every incantation, every ingredient, every method.

Frustrated, she pushed herself back from it and looked wildly for Noah. He was examining the room, all the equipment, and the books on the shelves, many of which had belonged to her father and her uncle, as if he was lost in a wonderland.

‘I can’t see what I did wrong.’ The frustration of admitting that, and the whole sorry situation, almost made her sob and she hated the sound of it in her voice.

‘May I have a look?’ he asked in those unexpectedly kind tones.

‘Be my guest.’

He leaned over the book, studying it intently, turning the page to read the whole thing. His fixed attention reminded her of a hawk. It made him strangely attractive, the way he concentrated so hard on the page, the flicker of his eyes as he read, the way he chewed his lower lip in thought. Finally, he shook his head. ‘There’s barely any mention of possible side effects.’

Anyone making cures for anything should list any likely problems that might arise. It was common sense. She knew that.

‘Because there shouldn’t be any.’ Portia sank onto the chair and buried her head in her hands, as if she could push the frustration away. ‘Like I said, I followed his instructions exactly.’

‘Was he as powerful as you?’

‘What?’

‘Your uncle. He was magical but was he as powerful as you? Everyone has different levels of ability, or so I understand it. August said magic just comes out differently in everyone. How they use magic is their decision, but the levels of ability… Look, I have no connection with magic at all so excuse me if I’m not phrasing it right, but… What would happen if I made this, given there’s a magical element to the process?’

Portia lifted her head and stared at him incredulously. That had never occurred to her.

‘I don’t… I don’t know. It shouldn’t matter. The incantations are more about timing than anything else, a leftover from a more superstitious age.’

‘Are you sure? From what everyone has said it doesn’t sound like Art was superstitious. Did you… did you skip anything?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’

She hadn’t, had she? Not even if it had seemed pointless, because that was what you did with magic. You followed the stupid rules. She had always told Milo that. He was the one inclined to take shortcuts and she wasn’t going to take a risk like that.

‘What about this bit?’

She got to her feet, her stomach already dropping with dread as she approached. What had he just found? Had she missed something? Oh, this couldn’t be happening.

His finger was pointing at a marginal note, just beside the line instructing whoever was making the balm to repeat the incantation ten times. It was almost illegible, obviously added in haste, little more than a squiggle really, and she couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. She could barely read it. And she was ninety-nine per cent certain that it had not been there before.

She squinted at it and it lurched sickeningly into focus.

Consider ability in casting. Repeat only as necessary.

‘What sort of stupid instruction is that?’ she exclaimed before she could stop herself. ‘It totally contradicts what he says in the main body. What was he thinking?’

‘It looks like he added it later,’ Noah said. ‘But when he says ability… he means how powerful someone is, doesn’t he?’

‘Maybe,’ she muttered, touching it to see if the ink was wet. Although how anyone could have added it, she didn’t know. Or why they would want to. This was not the time for practical jokes and no one here would do that anyway. Not now! Besides, it was her uncle’s writing, just as spidery and awkward and almost illegible as ever. It hadn’t been there. She was sure of that. ‘Where did that come from?’

‘He must have run into a similar problem, maybe when someone else tried to make the same balm. And if you’re more powerful than he was…’

It made sense now. The spell was to peel back the connection of the old and the new. But what if it worked more widely than that. Not just on their skin but on everything. On the magical ties of the teacup dragons to the world around them…