“But, lad, that’s you.”

“And that’s terribly sad, my friend.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why is it sad?”

“What if I don’t want a do-nothing post?” Owain asked. “I don’t understand why it’s only the wizards that get to fight, even when a war is coming.”

“I don’t make the rules,” North said. “It’s the way it’s always been.”

Owain snuck a glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but before he could reply, a resounding bang cut through the racket in the pub. A large man had upended his table, sending drinks and cards high into the air. The thin man across from him sat perfectly still, arms crossed.

Owain dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, but North only glanced over his shoulder.

“Rottin’ wizard!” the first man yelled, seizing the other by his crisp collar. “Think you can cheat me?”

The thin man ripped himself away from the other’s grip, retrieving his cane from where it had clattered to the floor. The entire length of it, right up to the ivory claw at the top, was wrapped with thick, yellow braiding.

“Think I wouldn’t know a cheat when I saw one? Can’t sucker me or my cards!”

The wizard raised his cane. The barkeep would have none of it.

“Out, you fool!” he hollered, throwing a bottle against the counter. “Didn’t you see the sodding sign? No wizards!”

My eyes darted to North, my hands instinctively reaching for my bag.

The thin wizard didn’t retreat; his slit eyes cast out over the length of the pub, searching for some ally or friend. North turned in his seat, watching the scene with a look of great amusement.

“He’s one!” The wizard thrust his cane in North’s direction, and the pub’s attention immediately shifted. North raised a brow, and I wondered how the other man could have possibly known.

“Who, him?” the barkeep snorted. “That lad’s been one of us since he was a boy, so walk that arse out, or Viktor will throw it out for you.”

Seeing the other wizard’s snarl, North held up his hands and shrugged innocently. But the wizard wasn’t looking at him any longer—his eyes flashed to my face, half hidden by Owain. North glanced back, as if trying to figure out where his gaze had fallen. He missed the way the other wizard took a step forward. Toward me.

Viktor gave the wizard a hard shove that sent him sprawling into the scattered cards and drinks.

“I’m two hundred fifteen!” the wizard hollered as Viktor dragged him to the door. “Two hundred fifteen!”

North turned back to our table as the music started again. “If I was only ranked two hundred fifteen, I wouldn’t be shouting it for the entire city to hear.”

“What number are you?” I asked. North bit the side of his thumb.

“Two hundred fifteen outta four hundred twenty-seven isn’t bad,” Owain said. “When’s the next ranking?”

“Next spring, I suppose,” North said. “If we lose wizards in the war, the numbers will shake up.”

“Will the Sorceress Imperial lose her ranking?” Owain asked. “Can’t imagine her being too pleased.”

North snorted. “Whoever holds the title is number one, regardless of how many duels they win in the rankings. She’ll be in power for a few years yet.”

I leaned back into my chair, brushing my disobedient hair from my eyes. The way the wizard had looked at me—squinting eyes stretched wide and shining brightly, lips parted—had been suffocating somehow, setting the small hairs on my arms on end.

A word caught my ear.

“Dragon?” I repeated. “That’s impossible. Astraea and the wizards destroyed them all with the giants ages ago.”

Owain coughed lightly, but it was North who answered.

“Mostly, yes, but there’s a small number still lingering here and there.” Seeing my expression of horror, he added, “But the giants never existed, just the dragons.”

“It’s a few miles west of here in Farfield,” Owain said. “They’ve promised a hefty reward for the first wizard who shows. Most of your kind have already moved on to the capital to prepare for war. The people are desperate, from what I hear.”

“You have to destroy it,” I said, and both men turned identical looks of astonishment on me. I turned to face North. “It’s your responsibility, the reason Astraea gave the wizards magic.”

Owain let out an uncomfortable laugh. “This lass is one for the myths, then.”

“It’s not a myth!” I said, gripping the table, unable to stop myself now that I had started. “It’s the reason Astraea inherited the world from her father, the Great Creator. She gave the gift of magic to her people, and it was only because of that that they were able to defeat dragons and all wicked things! It’s why she has supremacy over her sister goddess, Salvala. You have to do it, North; it’s your responsibility.”

I knew the Wizard Guard had been established for that very purpose. When it became clear no common sword would be strong enough to cut through dragon hide, the wizards’ mastery of the elements made them the only weapon the kingdom needed. North refusing to do it was like a slap in the face, both to tradition and to our faith.

“I would have rather had a sword,” he grumbled, reaching for his pint. “The amount of magic this will take…”