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    Dragon Clan of Yden: The Yden Trilogy, #2
    Dragon Clan of Yden: The Yden Trilogy, #2
    Dragon Clan of Yden: The Yden Trilogy, #2
    Ebook427 pages5 hours

    Dragon Clan of Yden: The Yden Trilogy, #2

    By Suzanne G. Rogers

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    About this ebook

    As Jon's formal magical training begins, his budding romantic attraction to Kira jeopardizes his relationship with Brett. At the same time, the Dragon Clan is bringing the Earth-born children of Yden's wizards back home. Unfortunately, the Fox Clan has also been recruiting these teen wizards for its own sinister plans. The mysterious Guinn of the Fox Clan is searching for a weapon known as the Portal Key and is more than willing to kill for it. Jon becomes increasingly desperate and reckless in his quest to thwart the Fox Clan, but he discovers—too late—his enemy is closer than he thinks.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIdunn Court Publishing
    Release dateJun 18, 2018
    ISBN9781947463028
    Dragon Clan of Yden: The Yden Trilogy, #2
    Author

    Suzanne G. Rogers

    Originally from Southern California, Suzanne G. Rogers currently resides in beautiful Savannah, Georgia on an island populated by exotic birds, deer, turtles, otters, and gators. Tab is her beverage of choice but a cranberry vodka martini doesn’t go amiss.

    Read more from Suzanne G. Rogers

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      Book preview

      Dragon Clan of Yden - Suzanne G. Rogers

      Chapter One

      Return to Yden

      GUINN WAS ALMOST FINISHED dressing for the day. An elegant man, he kept his fair hair cropped closely to tame the curl. Swooping eyebrows framed intense emerald eyes and his cheekbones were broad and well defined. When he heard a noise in the next room, his expression darkened. Although he’d been about to tie a Windsor knot in his silk tie, he instead grabbed one of the many firearms secreted in his penthouse apartment and crept from his bedroom.

      Two strangely clad men stood next to the plate glass window overlooking Manhattan’s Central Park. The elder one wore a floppy hat embroidered with runes. The other wore a similar hat embellished with an unusual, brightly colored feather and a fancy robe. That man’s nose was planted against the picture window as he stared at the spectacular view.

      Yrth is a busy place, he murmured. I’d no idea.

      Guinn’s shoulders relaxed and he lowered his pistol. What are you doing here, Treefoul?

      The elder man paid scant attention to the weapon in Guinn’s hand.

      I came to speak to you on a matter of great importance. Treefoul glanced at his companion. Wait here, Aeltin, and don’t touch anything.

      Guinn escorted his unwelcome visitor into the adjacent study so they could speak in private. Paneled in wood, with impressive crown molding and classic artwork, the study possessed a masculine appeal. He fixed his gaze on a painting by Gustave Moreau depicting Saint George slaying a dragon, folded his arms across his chest, and made a sound of impatience.

      Out with it, Treefoul. I’ve many things to do today.

      Efysian is no more.

      Startled, Guinn dropped his pose. What did you say?

      The Wolf Clan wizard has been defeated at long last, along with Warlord Mandral. A consortium has been formed to regulate and oversee wizard conduct. I’m here to offer you a seat on the Executive Council. He paused. And I would prefer you address me as Father.

      "Why on Yden would I want anything to do with a consortium of wizards, Father?" Guinn scoffed. As you can see, I’ve done quite well for myself here on Yrth.

      Perhaps wizard politics aren’t to your taste. I can’t believe, however, you’d be content to let the Dragon Clan reign triumphant evermore as the wizards who bested Efysian?

      Guinn said nothing, but a muscle in his jaw tightened.

      Treefoul gave him a knowing smile. Hmm. I thought not. Consider this: we have an opportunity to form our own private wizard militia from the children of Yden.

      How? They’re scattered all over the globe, hidden amongst the populace.

      A map exists, marking the location of nearly every wizard on Yrth.

      "What?"

      Although most of them were kidnapped and drained by Efysian, we can locate their sons.

      Guinn shook his head in disbelief. Is this map a rumor or have you seen it for yourself?

      I’ve not seen it personally, but the document was recovered from Efysian’s lair by a member of the consortium, Dorsit of the Leopard Clan. He’s allied with the Dragon Clan and prattles about Yrth constantly.

      Who is the wizard accompanying you? Is he a threat, or can he be controlled?

      Aeltin of the Falcon Clan is a disgraced and talentless simpleton who believes I can restore his reputation—as if he ever had one. Treefoul chuckled. We can use him to recruit for us, if we can recover the map from Dorsit.

      He’ll likely not give it over willingly, but perhaps we can steal it.

      I’ve tried breaking into Dorsit’s apartment dwelling, but it’s well protected by security spells. Nevertheless, he can be persuaded to bring it into the open willingly if he believes there is something to gain.

      Guinn paced, his mind racing. A militia will require alliances.

      Trust me, there are plenty of wizards on Yden who are displeased with the concept of a consortium. They can be easily persuaded to throw in with us.

      A grim smile lit Guinn’s features. He reached out his hand to his father, and they clasped one another’s wrists. They were in agreement, insofar as it went. Treefoul had no idea his son had yet another agenda, one he’d planned years earlier for a time when Efysian had been vanquished. The map would provide half of the puzzle. When he located the second half, there was no reason the Fox Clan couldn’t rule Yrth too.

      SELA BURST INTO HER big brother’s room before dawn, dressed in shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and sandals. A red and white felt Santa Claus hat was perched atop her sandy curls.

      Merry Christmas, Jon! Rise and shine!

      Despite his groan of protest, she flicked on the lights. A pastel rendering had fallen from her brother’s drawing table onto the carpet. When she stooped to retrieve the artwork, she immediately recognized the dark-haired beauty depicted on the page.

      Hey, this is a great picture of Kira. You draw it last night?

      That’s not her. Since Jon’s face was buried in his pillow, his voice had a muffled quality.

      Course it is. Sela dropped the portrait onto the drawing table.

      No, it’s not.

      Who’re you kidding? I may be ten years old, but that’s definitely Kira.

      Go away and let me sleep.

      No way! The suns are already up in Yden and we’re wasting time.

      Don’t you want to look at your presents first?

      Sela marched over to Jon’s bed and peeled the covers back. Since I’ve been awake since five, I already did. You got a laptop, by the way. It’s sweet.

      Jon lifted an eyelid. You opened my presents?

      Somebody had to or we’d be here all day. She peered at his face. Eeew. You need to shave.

      Really? Jon rubbed his fingertips across the bristles sticking out of his chin. That’s new.

      Do you know how to shave?

      I’m sure I can figure it out...if Dad lends me his electric razor.

      AFTER JON MADE CERTAIN his sister was gone, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and stretched. His eyes fell to the drawing Sela had put back on the table, and a chuckle escaped his lips. The girl he’d drawn did resemble the warrior princess he’d met on Yden a few months earlier, although that hadn’t been his intent. With a vague sense of guilt, he stashed the drawing in a storage box and instead pulled out a watercolor painting he’d done of Brett Tanner. Her blond prettiness brought a smile to his face. Once he’d had it framed, he would hang it on his wall.

      A sense of satisfaction and a cloud of aftershave accompanied Jon as he sauntered into the kitchen fifteen minutes later.

      Sela made a gagging noise. You reek! She pinched her nose closed.

      Merry Christmas to you, too, squirt.

      He slid into his chair at the table, and she pretended to faint from the fumes. Mrs. Hansen stifled a smile as she set out a platter of holiday donuts along with plates of bacon and scrambled eggs.

      "You smell nice, Jon...although maybe you don’t need to use quite so much aftershave."

      With the amber eyes of a weathered Dragon Clan ring gleaming on the ring finger of his right hand, Dr. Hansen patted his son on the shoulder.

      Now I remember what I forgot to buy you for Christmas—a shaving kit.

      Jon grinned. Didn’t know I’d need one. Now that I’m shaving, Fred can get off my back.

      He focused on his breakfast, but apparently he wasn’t eating fast enough for his sister. After she devoured several red and green decorated donuts into her mouth, she pulled the Santa hat from her head and jumped to her feet.

      Time to go. I’m gonna get my bag. She hastened from the kitchen.

      The silvery bracelet Dr. Hansen produced from the pocket of his cardigan matched the one on his wrist. Here’s a transporter cuff of your very own, son. Use it safely. He winked.

      With an eager smile, Jon plucked the magical object from his father’s fingers and slipped it onto his wrist. The metal immediately molded itself to his skin and became flexible. The red eyes of his pewter-colored dragon ring flared in response.

      Jon chuckled. Awesome.

      Mrs. Hansen’s face scrunched up, and she gave her husband a pleading glance. Greg, can’t you take the kids yourself?

      Jon sighed. Mom, I’m perfectly capable of getting to Yden and back on my own. It’s not like I haven’t done it before, several times.

      We talked about this, Gretchen. My father is expecting the kids, Dr. Hansen said.

      Yes, but—

      "I think you can trust me with a little task like taking my sister to see her grandfather. After all, I’m shaving now." Jon rubbed his chin.

      Yes, but—

      Sela barreled into the kitchen, weighed down with her pink vinyl overnighter and Jon’s duffle bag.

      She thrust the duffle into his arms, groaning. What do you have in there, a medicine ball?

      As Jon swung the duffle across his back, he deliberately flexed the muscles he’d worked so hard to develop.

      Don’t know what you’re talking about, squirt. I packed light.

      Show off. Despite her grumbling, she grabbed her brother’s hand, giggled, and waved to her parents. See ya in a week. Merry Christmas.

      Have fun, Dr. Hansen said. Say hello to your grandfather for me.

      I will. The red dragon eyes on Jon’s ring, Ophelia, sparkled in anticipation.

      Now hold on, Mrs. Hansen began. I’m not ready—

      Neither Jon nor Sela heard the end of her sentence. In a flash of light and a sound like muffled thunder, the two siblings disappeared.

      WHEN JON AND SELA MATERIALIZED on a deserted tropical beach, he gave her a grin. Welcome to Dragon Isle.

      She let out a delighted whoop and threw her bag straight up in the air. I can’t believe I’m finally here!

      The pink vinyl overnighter almost beaned Jon on the way down, but his sister was oblivious. She turned a cartwheel and took off down the beach like a colt. Jon’s duffle joined her bag on the beach and he knelt to gather a fistful of sand. The fine white grains filtered through his fingers and he marveled at the texture. He took a deep breath of clean warm air, closed his eyes, and lifted his face toward the suns.

      It’s so great to be back on Yden.

      When a scream split the air, he jumped to his feet.

      Sela?

      His heart in his throat, Jon took off in the direction he’d seen her last. Slipping across a mossy tide pool, he nearly did a face plant into the side of a boulder. As he rounded a rocky outcropping, he found his sister standing rooted to the spot, trembling in fear. An enormous green dragon was seemingly poised to strike if she moved any closer.

      Jon jumped in front of Sela and held up his hands. Whoa, Eve, it’s okay! She’s with me.

      Little spurts of fire flared from the dragon’s nostrils, and she glared at him with no trace of recognition in her eyes.

      His welcoming smile slipped. What’s wrong, girl?

      Are you sure that’s Eve? Sela whispered. She doesn’t seem to know you.

      Of course it’s her. I created her, didn’t I?

      But it’s been three months since you’ve been here. Maybe she forgot who you are?

      Jon spotted a clutch of eggs nestled into the hot sand at the dragon’s feet. Uh-oh.

      Sela peeked around her brother. What?

      She’s nesting, and nesting mothers are usually aggressive.

      He felt his sister tug on his shirt. Back up slowly.

      As they edged away, Eve broke eye contact, turned a circle, and coiled herself around the sand pit. Before Jon or Sela could react, an enormous shadow blotted out the suns and they were whisked into the air by a pair of dragon claws. Sela screamed and struggled, but the flight was mercifully short. Jon and Sela found themselves deposited on the sand next to their bags. Moments later, a magnificent red dragon landed on the beach, and folded his wings at his side.

      Adam, you salty dog! Jon gave the creature a huge grin. You’re going to be a dad!

      He threw his arms around the dragon’s neck. Adam’s trumpeting cry was so loud Sela covered her ears. Jon stepped back and gazed at the well-fed dragon with pride.

      I think you might’ve grown since I saw you last. And your scales have taken on a handsome coppery color.

      Adam preened and rolled over on his back so Jon could scratch his smooth, hide-covered stomach.

      Sela gasped with pleasure. That’s so cute!

      Adam, this is my little sister. Sela, meet Adam. He’s the first dragon I ever drew on Yden.

      As the dragon regarded her from his upside-down position on the beach, Sela’s eyes widened in awe.

      Pet him, Jon urged. He likes it.

      She put a tentative hand on the dragon’s tough hide. Adam sighed, closed his eyes, and burrowed into the sand for a nap.

      Sela gave Jon a pleading glance. I want a dragon! Can I have one of Eve’s babies when they hatch?

      I dunno. Don’t you think the neighbors might talk?

      Sela punched her brother on the arm. I’d keep the dragon here, you goof. She picked up her bag. Let’s go find Grandpa. I can’t wait to meet him.

      After Jon shouldered his duffle, he led Sela toward an explosion of greenery several hundred yards up the beach. An archway of honeysuckle vines marked the entrance to a resplendent garden. As Sela passed underneath the archway, her jaw dropped in amazement. Neatly manicured hedges marked off the first square, which featured sculptures of people and fantastic animals nestled among the flora.

      All this artwork is Quixoran’s. He’s the most talented sculptor I’ve ever seen.

      When his sister’s fingers traveled over a lacy fern, the plant giggled.

      Sela gasped, It’s ticklish! and then burst into laughter of her own. Is everything magical on Yden?

      Pretty much. Last time I was here, Quixoran caused the volcano at the tip of the island to erupt. Jon pointed to the not-so-distant peak. A lot of the island was flattened or burned by splattered blue lava.

      Grandpa must have put everything back the way it was before.

      It’s better. For example, the leaping dragon fountain in the center of the square is new.

      The stony creature was magically spouting a steaming blue liquid, and Jon smiled in appreciation.

      I’ll bet anything the fountain is Dorsit’s handiwork. He has a flair for that sort of thing.

      The Leopard Clan wizard?

      Yeah. In fact, he probably helped Quixoran restore the island. Jon shifted the weight of his duffle to ease the pinch of the strap on his shoulder. Come on, let’s get going. My bag is growing heavier by the minute.

      She wrinkled her nose. I thought you packed light.

      You’re so funny, I forgot to laugh.

      Despite Jon’s plea, Sela paused to see, touch, and smell everything she passed. Increasingly eager to see his grandfather, he chafed when his sister stopped to admire a fantastic unicorn statue.

      I’ll wait for you under the blue fruit tree, he said, edging toward the next archway. It’s through here.

      Sela climbed onto the unicorn, throwing her leg across as if she were riding a horse.

      Um...okay. I’m right behind you.

      Word to the wise, squirt. Never sit on a real unicorn. They can sometimes have a nasty attitude.

      Killjoy.

      He passed into a mossy clearing dotted by several mature fruit trees and sculptures of fairies. As he walked past an intricate sculpture of a brownie, he couldn’t help admiring the detail. He was so entranced, he nearly smacked into a strange teen.

      Whoa. Jon reared back. Where’d you come from?

      The boy, perhaps eighteen, was bare-chested, muscular, and radiating arrogance. Worse, he was gripping a six-foot long staff in his hands.

      State your clan and your business.

      Jon peered at him. Huh?

      Your clan and your business, the boy repeated, brandishing the staff.

      Jon bristled and his eyes narrowed. Bug off. I don’t answer to comic book hero rejects.

      He glanced over his shoulder to check Sela’s progress and suddenly found his legs swept out from under him. As he landed on his back with a loud thud, he winced from a stinging pain across his calves.

      Dude, what’s wrong with you?

      The kid responded by rotating the staff around and around like an incoming helicopter blade. Jon scrambled to his feet, leaving his duffle bag on the ground. From somewhere behind him, Sela shrieked with alarm.

      His attention riveted on the weapon, he held up a warning hand. Stay there, Sela. This guy is seriously nuts!

      The wooden staff whooshed toward Jon’s head and he jumped back out of reach. Unfortunately, he stumbled over his duffle bag and came crashing down hard. The stranger dissolved into mocking laughter.

      You’re mean! Sela cried.

      A nearby fruit tree provided her with handfuls of juicy ammunition. Her aim was wide, but the incoming missiles made the teen duck. Jon seized the opportunity to tackle his assailant to the ground and wrestle the staff away. Once he stood clear, he burned the weapon with the flames shooting from his fingertips and flung the seared wood onto the gravel path.

      He pointed a threatening finger at the kid. Stay down, punk, or there’s more where that came from.

      The kid responded by aiming his fist in Jon’s direction. Jon barely had time to notice his assailant’s clan ring before he was yanked backward, as if by an invisible elastic cord. He twisted in the air, slammed face-first into a stone sprite, and tasted blood from a cut inside his mouth.

      The strange young wizard advanced. "More of what, lightweight? Seems to me like you got nothing."

      The situation disintegrated fast.

      Chapter Two

      Run Over by a Unicorn

      WITH SELA SCREAMING nearby like a tornado-warning siren, the two young wizards went at it with their fists. The stranger was well versed in combat and more muscular, but Jon’s boxing drills allowed him to land blow after blow.

      A tall elderly wizard with a thick mane of white hair transported nearby. What on Yden is going on here?

      Although Jon recognized his grandfather’s thundering voice, he was taking too much punishment to respond. After Quixoran pulled the combatants apart, the stranger sported a nice shiner, and a bloody nose. From the way his own face stung, Jon guessed he hadn’t fared any better.

      Breathing heavily, he nodded at the elderly wizard. Hello, Grandfather. Can’t say I like your welcoming committee.

      The stranger blanched as he made the connection between Quixoran and Jon, but then his lip curled in disdain. Jon’s jaw jutted out in response and his hands formed fists.

      Quixoran held the young wizards apart. I will have discipline on this island. He gave them both a steely glare. Am I making myself clear?

      Yes, sir, Jon replied.

      Yes, Master Quixoran.

      The older wizard continued to glare. Let me see you shake hands.

      Under Quixoran’s watchful gaze, the two young wizards exchanged a brief handshake. Despite than, Jon had no intention of letting down his guard.

      Jon Hansen of the Dragon Clan.

      Max Lee. Unicorn Clan.

      Jon shot the bare-chested teen a bewildered glance. What was a Unicorn Clan wizard doing on Dragon Isle, and why had he referred to Quixoran as Master?

      Max, get your injuries tended to, Quixoran said. We’ll postpone our morning activity until after lunch.

      Yes, sir. The Unicorn Clan wizard favored his side as he loped off.

      The elderly wizard trained a beaming smile on Jon’s sister. You must be my granddaughter!

      She hung back with an uncharacteristic case of shyness, but Jon beckoned her over.

      This is Quixoran, our grandfather. Grandfather, this is Sela. She’s been very excited to meet you.

      The six-foot four-inch tall wizard picked her up and spun her around as if she were still a toddler.

      You’re as pretty as a Tumborian songbird, and the very image of your grandmother. I want to give you a tour of my garden first, but when we return to the tree house, I’ll show you her sculpture. Then, you’ll see what I mean.

      Jon glanced around but failed to see his sister’s pink overnighter. I’ll carry your stuff for you, Sela, if you show me where you left your bag.

      Hang on. I left it behind a bush. Sela darted off. When she returned, she peered at his face with a grimace. You look terrible. Do you want to transport home so Dad can patch you up? I’ll be okay with Grandpa.

      He shook his head. We’ve been on Dragon Isle less than an hour. What do you think Mom and Dad would say if they knew I’d been in a fight already?

      You can always tell ’em you got run over by a unicorn. Sela snorted with laughter. Max flung you around like a piece of garbage.

      You’re a riot. Thanks for the support.

      The way he dropped you with that long stick was totally cool.

      "That former stick, you mean. Now it’s kindling."

      She shrugged. Your fire gimmick was nice, but when he sent you flying, it was awesome.

      He sighed. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I hope he leaves soon. He took Sela’s bag from her. I’ve got this. Have fun on your tour.

      She scampered toward Quixoran, and the enchanted expression on the wizard’s weathered face made Jon smile.

      AS JON EMERGED FROM the garden, the beauty of the magnificent vanyean tree looming dead ahead took his breath away. The tree would have dwarfed his house back home, and its full waxy green leaves shone under the two Yden suns like emerald beacons. A floating staircase wound its way up the trunk and led to a wooden house the size of a basketball court.

      When he arrived at the base of the tree, Max was sitting on one of the bottom stairs while a middle-aged woman daubed his battered face with salve. At one point, the young wizard winced with pain, and Jon felt a twinge of regret for the entire encounter.

      He cleared his throat. Sorry for burning your stick, Max.

      "It’s called a bo and it was my father’s."

      The teen launched himself off the stairs, and brushed past Jon with barely concealed disdain. He strode toward the forest, still favoring his side, and Jon was left to introduce himself to the older woman.

      Hi, I’m Jon Hansen. He deposited his duffle and Sela’s overnight bag onto a nearby trestle table. What’s that kid’s problem?

      Wounded pride is a difficult injury to overcome when you’re young.

      The woman was simply dressed, with strong bone structure, curly brown hair, and mesmerizing hazel eyes. Although he didn’t think he’d ever met her before, she seemed strangely familiar.

      Do I know you?

      A smile creased her face. Do you not remember? We met last time you were here.

      Cressidia? he gasped with dawning recognition.

      Very perceptive, she replied, pleased.

      But you’re a wood sprite—a spirit. Why didn’t you ever appear in human form before?

      A flock of kids barreled past just then, whooping and hollering in excitement. Five boys and one girl were loaded down with nets, creels, and spears. The group headed toward the garden, evidently on their way to the ocean to fish.

      Hey, are those the orphans liberated from Mandral’s castle? Jon asked.

      Indeed they are. After you brought their plight to Quixoran’s attention, he invited the children to live here. I took this human form to help.

      Jon chuckled. They’re a whole lot noisier without the cygards around.

      Suppressing a smile, Cressidia asked him to sit so she could treat his cuts and bruises. He winced as she dabbed ointment on his cheekbone.

      Ugh...this stuff smells terrible.

      The odor may be unpleasant, but it helps the pain. Otherwise you’ll have trouble sleeping tonight.

      Yeah, my ear is starting to throb, Jon admitted. Um...who is Max and what’s he doing here?

      Quixoran brought Max to Dragon Isle a few weeks ago. The boy’s father was kidnapped from Yrth and drained by Efysian.

      What?

      Quixoran has taken Max as his newest apprentice. He tells me the lad might be one of the most promising apprentices he’s ever had.

      The wood sprite turned away as she corked the bottle of salve, and Jon was relieved she couldn’t see his expression. For the second time that morning he felt as if his legs had been swept out from under him.

      Thank you, Cressidia, he managed.

      You’re welcome. Wait here while I fetch you a basket. I’d like you to pick an assortment of fruit from the garden.

      Sure.

      As she headed toward the open-air kitchen several yards off, Jon gritted his teeth against a spasm of pain unrelated to any visible injuries. Swallowing hard, he wished Cressidia had an ointment to stop the ugly green poison of jealousy spreading through his veins.

      JON GATHERED FRUIT from various trees until his basket was full. Afterward, he settled onto Quixoran’s sleeping dragon sculpture and whipped his sketchpad from his pocket. Because his thoughts were in turmoil, however, he ended up tapping his pencil against the paper and staring off into space. Efysian’s defeat had meant wizards could practice magic freely and young wizards would once again be able to train. In the first flush of victory, Jon had eagerly anticipated the resurgence of magic on Yden, but he’d never really thought about the role he would play. Nevertheless, he would never have supposed he’d be left out completely.

      He frowned and hunched his shoulders. Quixoran was a good judge of talent, but he hadn’t asked him to be his apprentice. Was he to assume he’d been weighed and found lacking? The suspicion stung worse than an Imp bite. After his last adventure, he had felt kind of...cool for a change. Well, his pitched battle with Max just now had certainly revealed Jon’s shortcomings in painful detail. Now that kid was cool. Max Lee was an expert with the bo, and he’d tossed Jon around with his wizard powers like a cow chip. His own sister had been more impressed with the Unicorn Clan wizard than she had been with him.

      You’re Jon Hansen, aren’t you?

      Startled from his reverie, he glanced down to find a little gap-toothed redhead staring at him.

      Yes, I am. He gave her a smile. Who are you?

      My name is Johde.

      Hello, Johde. He patted the dragon. You want to come up?

      As he helped the little girl sit next to him, he winced at the red scars lingering on her bare ankles—the result of manacles she’d worn as Warlord Mandral’s slave. The memory of it still made Jon angry.

      She smoothed her skirt. Kira told me we should thank you for bringing us here.

      She did? Hmmm, I don’t know about that. You should probably thank Kira and Quixoran.

      I remember you coming to the castle before. You look different.

      He leaned down as if to confide a secret. Yeah. my face kind of got run over by a unicorn.

      The little girl’s laughter was almost as sweet as the singing flowers blooming in the garden.

      Jon readied his sketchbook. Have you ever had a doll, Johde?

      Confused, she shook her head. What’s that?

      Let me show you.

      With Johde looking on, Jon drew her the most beautiful redheaded princess doll he could imagine. In his mind’s eye, he pictured it large enough to fill

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