Page 57 of The Teacup Dragon Sanctuary

His father would be so disappointed. His brother would be astounded. His grandfather… well, his grandfather would probably have a rather good belly laugh about it and then work out an argument to free him, or charm those who had power over him. Not through magic of course, unless you counted that of his wits and quicksilver mind, the arguments that he would spin into convincing reasons that this was all a terrible misunderstanding. His grandfather had never actually broken the law to Noah’s knowledge, but…

But maybe his grandfather had skirted closer than most.

Noah knew how the law worked in Shinael and especially in Tesh itself. If you were nobility or had riches, if you had people to argue on your behalf or stand to represent you, things like this could no doubt be sorted out very quickly. But he had none of those things. He was the son of a blacksmith from Alincourt and he’d tried to take on royal guards to let a poisoner escape. An ambassador had been assaulted. He stood accused by a member of the royal court, a confidante of the queen herself.

He had never been in quite as much trouble as this.

But if that woman had got hold of Jade, or indeed of Portia… he would never have been able to forgive himself. It didn’t help that there were fifteen minutes or more of his memory completely missing, or that Portia had accused Lady Moorland of bespelling him. What did that mean? What had she done to him and why?

He had no way of getting answers. There was no one coming to help him. All he could do was hope that Portia had escaped and that she was now far, far away in hiding somewhere.

He had no idea how much time had passed. He had definitely been here overnight, ruminating on his bleak future. He’d be ruined in his profession. That was the least of it. Moorland was vindictive and would obviously push for the maximum sentence.

He’d attacked the royal guards. There was no denying that. Several of them. Helped a wanted woman escape, taking with her a valuable dragon that Moorland claimed to own, so he had abetted in a major theft. There was a whole auditorium full of witnesses.

What had he been thinking?

Portia, that was what. He’d been thinking of Portia. And Jade, of course.

But mainly Portia.

He was a such fool.

The sound of voices approaching brought him up out of his misery. He couldn’t see anything. The door to the cell was solid wood with only a small flap which could be opened from the far side. He heard the keys jangling as they were fitted to the lock.

Was this where they came to drag him off for sentencing? Or worse.

The door opened, flooding the cell with light, blinding him. He blinked, trying to look at the new arrivals, and not to appear to cower away. He was far too stubborn to do something like that, to show such weakness.

Lee would shake his head in despair. Why can’t you ever take the easy road, Noah? Just for once?

Because… because he hadn’t done anything wrong. And neither had Portia. She wouldn’t. The very idea that she would have so dangerous a poison on her, that she planned to hurt any living thing, let alone helpless teacup dragons…

‘Well, here he is,’ said the prison guard, his tone wary.

‘Why is he shackled?’ Iris Starling exclaimed. ‘Dear heavens, this is barbaric. He shouldn’t have been brought here at all, let alone chained up like some kind of beast. What are you people playing at?’

‘We were told he was dangerous, ma’am. Took on five royal guards and⁠—’

Iris’s glare could have frozen an inferno. ‘It was all a foolish misunderstanding. Let him loose, my good man. Immediately.’

She had that bark of nobility down to a tee, Noah thought grimly, but for the first time in hours a spark of hope flared up in him again.

‘Iris? What happened?’

‘Oh, far too much nonsense,’ she tutted, and then turned her ire on the guard again. ‘Come along. I don’t have all day. He’s coming with me.’

‘Ma’am, I can’t just⁠—’

Someone else cleared their throat out in the corridor and it was the kind of unspoken threat that usually got results. Ambassador Gilden appeared behind Iris, glowering at the prison guard. ‘Must the lady repeat herself? Or shall I fetch a royal representative to reiterate their command? Who would you prefer to explain yourself to? The king? The queen? Perhaps a duke would do? What rank would suit you best?’

‘No, sir, my… my apologies.’

The man hurried forward and knelt down so he could unlock the shackles from Noah’s legs.

‘What were they thinking?’ Iris muttered. ‘Leg irons. Such drama.’

‘The orders came from Lady Moorland herself,’ the guard protested, working on the second cuff.