Page 49 of The Teacup Dragon Sanctuary

He couldn’t have. Not Milo!

‘What is it, Felicity?’ she hissed. ‘What has he invented?’

And suddenly Felicity didn’t look quite so sure. ‘Surely he wrote to you about it, Professor Starling. You did everything together. Everyone knows that. But when you left, he seemed so lost and we were worried about him. And then, the next thing you know, he had a breakthrough. He calls it the Universal Restorative.’

19

Several old friends of Iris found her in the late afternoon, and filled the tent with chatter and delight at the teacup dragons, discussing breeds and natures, and generally treating Noah like a handsome boy who could do some party tricks. Finally, Iris took pity on him and sent him off to get some dinner. Portia had not yet returned. He’d hoped to talk to her. But it had all been too awkward and there were people around them all the time. They never seemed to get a moment.

And what was the point anyway? He would be leaving. He would have to. He had never intended to stay on Starling Island this long if he was honest. He should have packed it all in weeks ago. It was only when the dragons fell ill that he’d felt obligated to stay and help.

The whole situation suddenly seemed to have become far too complicated.

All he had ever wanted to do was study dragons. The great dragons. He had never expected the teacup variety to become so great a part of his life. They were endearing, fascinating creatures who he had to admit were fast capturing his heart.

Not to mention Portia Starling. All of them in fact, her whole family, their friends. And all the islanders.

But mostly Portia.

He reached the top of the queue at the food stall and ordered a roast beef sandwich, which came in thick slices of soft bread. The whole thing dripped juices so he wrapped it in napkins and carried it, and his cup of tea, off to a quiet corner of the auditorium where a scattering of benches had been pushed up against the wall. Better to fortify himself for the evening because there was no telling how the first round of judging was going to go. Iris had been all atwitter about her friend the ambassador being one of the judges and how impressed he had been with the teacup dragons from the sanctuary. She had come back from their tea like a woman thirty years younger. But everyone said Lady Moorland had the whole thing sewn up and anyone who wasn’t on her good side would be lucky to place at all, let alone progress to the next round tomorrow, when the queen herself would join the panel of judges.

Perhaps he should have been more careful with what he’d said to the horrible woman. But when he saw her grab at Jade, and the horror on Portia’s face… he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried.

It would all end in tears, he thought dourly. Wasn’t that what his father had always said? He knew he’d made a dreadful mistake the moment she glared at him and swept off in her huff. But then… then Portia had been in his arms and he couldn’t think at all.

The sandwich was mouthwatering and he was starving. He didn’t actually remember when he’d last had anything to eat.

‘You!’ The whipcrack voice demanded attention. He looked up to see Lady Moorland bearing down on him. She had shed her entourage. Though decked in pearls and tweeds, she had the look of a woman on a mission of retribution. He knew this was coming. And now it was too late to avoid her. ‘With me. Now.’

He swallowed the mouthful of food on a suddenly dry throat, almost choking.

‘Lady Moorland,’ he managed. He didn’t move. He’d never taken kindly to being ordered around. ‘How can I help you?’

She gave him a poisonous look. ‘Oh, so you do remember who I am. Now, at least. And do you by any remote chance remember what I can do for you, Noah Turner? And what I can withhold? We need to talk, you and I. Immediately. Follow me.’

He was cornered with nowhere to go. And she was right, he did remember who she was, what she could do and what she could, more specifically, not do. He didn’t have a choice. He was twice the size of her but he felt like a boy who was being hauled up in front of the schoolmistress.

‘All right,’ he said, carefully folding up the rest of his sandwich in the napkins.

‘For Wenn’s sake,’ she snarled impatiently. ‘Just throw it away.’

That said it all, he thought. He was not going to throw perfectly good food away, but Lady Moorland would. He ignored her instruction and stowed it in the pocket of his jacket, hoping the juices from the beef wouldn’t soak through the wrappings before he could finish it.

It wasn’t like he had spare suits lying around and he needed to be presentable for the show later. He drained the rest of the tea and followed her reluctantly.

Virginia opened the door to the administration area of the auditorium. The stairs led up to meeting rooms overlooking the main part of the building and Noah followed her inside, liking this less and less. It was quiet up here. Too quiet.

‘Hurry up, man,’ she chided him. ‘I can’t afford to be seen with you here. People will talk and we cannot have that.’

The feeling was mutual. He didn’t say that. It had been funny to mock her earlier, in front of everyone, especially to defend Portia and Jade but now… now he regretted the rash action.

She opened another door and ushered him inside an empty office, with a desk and a chair and very little else. Windows looked out over the auditorium filled with colourful tents, and in the distance he could see the arena where the competition itself would be held. People were milling about and somewhere right over on the other side of the whole place the Starling Island sanctuary tent was still mobbed.

‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at?’ Lady Moorland snarled the moment she had followed him inside. ‘What are you even doing here with them?’

‘I’m their vet,’ he reminded her. ‘Of course I’m here with them. The care and management of those dragons is my responsibility and⁠—’

‘When you and I last met, you promised me information on what Iris Starling is up to on that island in return for funding that stupid expedition of yours. Not to mention making sure it would get approval. I expected to hear from you after a fortnight at most. And so far, Dr Turner, all you have done is delay and now sabotage me. It will not do.’ He turned to face her and drew in a breath to reply. She held out her hand, right in front of her mouth and before he knew what was happening, blew on it, hard. Dust billowed right into his face and he coughed as he inhaled it, blinking, trying to wave it away, and failing. ‘Tell me everything. This instant.’