One Hundred Days with the Dragon Lord

BEAU

A cold drop of water landed directly on my nose.

I wiped it off with the back of my hand and looked up at the ceiling. "Gertrude. Really? Right now?"

Gertrude was the newest leak in The Mended Moon. She sat directly over my main work table, dripping steady plops onto my clean wood counter. She joined Margaret, who leaked over the front counter, and Susan, who dripped near the window.

I grabbed a dented metal bucket from under the shelf, shoved it under Gertrude’s path, and nearly fell on the wet floorboards.

"Great," I muttered to the empty room, catching myself against the table. "Just great."

I knew magic. I could take apart a bad charm, fix the inner gears of a spell-clock, and clean a cracked glass ball without breaking it. Roofs, however, needed money. Money I did not have.

I stepped back and looked around the shop. The silence was heavy. The small bell above the door had not made a sound all day. It had not made many sounds all week, either.

The ledger on my desk sat open, showing far more red ink than black. Bills were piling up, materials were running low, and the shop was failing.

My eyes moved to the small shelf behind the counter. A simple wooden box sat there, holding a few spare tools and an old notebook.

Mama Wells' journal.

She had died four months ago. Instinctively, my mind reached for her—where did she keep the spare roofing charms?—before I remembered the cold truth. She was not upstairs. She was not coming back down to hand me a cup of tea and tell me not to worry about the rain.

I walked over, picked up the notebook, and opened it to a familiar page.

It was her entry about The Great Rabbit Incident. Mama Wells had written three pages about the time a magic spell on a toy rabbit went wild, filling half the town with hundreds of identical, hopping rabbits. She had fixed magical things because she loved it.

I was trying to fix things just to keep the roof over my head.

I let out a breath and smiled a little at the memory. I went to close the book—

Chime.

The shop bell rang.

I shut the journal, put it under the counter, and stood up straight, wiping my hands on my apron.

Lady Celestine stepped inside first. She looked completely clean and dry despite the heavy rain outside.

Then came the man behind her.

He had to duck to fit through the doorway. He was tall, broad, and dressed in heavy dark clothes that practically screamed money. But it was his face that made me stop—cold eyes, a flat expression, and eyes that were a strange, bright gold.

My eyes dropped straight to his boots. Fine black leather. They were tracking wet mud across my floorboards.

Those boots cost more than my rent for the year, I thought, getting angry fast. And he is ruining my floor.

He looked around my small shop, frowning at the space.

"Welcome to The Mended Moon," I said, putting on my best shopkeeper voice. "How may I help you today?"

Lady Celestine smiled, stepping up to the counter. "Miss Wells. Good afternoon."

"My Lady," I said, bowing my head.

She turned slightly toward the man beside her. "Miss Wells, this is Lord Draycott."

I kept my voice polite. "My Lord."

Lord Draycott did not smile. He looked down at me, looking over my messy hair and the dirty smudges on my apron. He did not look impressed.

"And you are?" he asked. His voice was deep and calm.

I looked right back at him. "Isabeau Wells, My Lord."

"Miss Wells," he said, his voice flat.

Celestine pointed between us. "Lord Draycott needs a very specific repair, Isabeau. I told him you are very good at fixing things. That you can fix almost anything."

Lord Draycott looked up at the ceiling. Plop. A drop hit the inside of my bucket with a loud sound. He looked at the bucket near the window. Then he looked back at me, raising one dark eyebrow.

"Lady Celestine told me you were good," he said, his voice cold and polite. "Looking at this place, I thought she was lying."

My jaw tightened. My anger went from zero to boiling in a second.

I forced a fake smile onto my face. "The roof has character, My Lord. My work, however, is perfect."

Celestine gave him a quick look. "Evaniel, please." She turned back to me. "Ignore him. He has had a bad morning."

Lord Draycott did not say sorry. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a dark cloth. He set it down on the counter between us.

He unrolled the cloth, showing a heavy old pocket watch.

It was made from a dark, strange metal. Odd shapes were carved along the outside edge, worn down by time. It looked very old.

"Other mages have already looked at it," Lord Draycott said, watching me. "None of them could make it work. They said it was dead."

The moment I saw the watch, my anger left me. I loved broken things. I loved figuring out why they did not work.

"May I?" I asked.

"That is why I brought it here," he said.

I reached out and touched the metal.

It was freezing cold. I closed my eyes, sending a tiny spark of my own magic through my fingers and into the watch.

The metal suddenly turned hot under my hand.

Tick.

A heavy vibration hit the counter.

I opened my eyes. Inside the glass face, the tiny gold second hand gave a quick jerk.

It moved backward one second.

Then it stopped completely.

I froze. My fingers stayed on the watch. Magic did not move backward. Objects did not run in reverse unless they were broken or dangerous.

I looked straight up at him.

Lord Draycott had not moved. He was staring at me with his gold eyes, watching every move I made. He was not surprised.

"Can you fix it?" he asked softly.

My pride flared up. There was no way I was letting this rude lord walk out of my shop thinking I could not handle a piece of metal.

"I can," I said, keeping my voice steady. "It will take time, but I can fix it."

"Name your price," he said. "If you do it fast, I will pay double."

"My price is ten silver coins," I said flatly. "I do not charge extra just because a customer has money, My Lord."

He tilted his head, watching me. He clearly was not used to people saying no to his money.

"Very well," he said. "I will come back later."

"Tomorrow?" I asked.

A small smirk touched the corner of his lips. "If you need that long, Miss Wells."

I squeezed my hands into fists under the counter to keep from hitting him.

Celestine spoke up, cutting through the silence. "I need to visit the fabric shop down the street. Isabeau, good luck with the watch." She gave Lord Draycott a look toward the door. "You will have your work cut out for you."

"So it seems, My Lady," I said.

Celestine stepped out into the rain first. Lord Draycott stayed by the counter for one extra second, leaning down slightly so he was at eye level with me.

"A word of advice, Miss Wells," he said, his tone cold. "Do not force the case. It is delicate."

"I know how to handle magic, My Lord," I said back, staring right into his eyes. "You can leave now."

He gave me a long look, turned around, and walked out into the storm. The door clicked shut behind him.

The second the latch clicked, I let out a sharp breath, crossed my arms, and pulled my shoulders up to my ears in a stiff posture.

"Doo noot foorce the caase, Mees Weells," I mocked in a low, pompous voice, puffing out my chest and striding around the counter with an exaggerated glare. "I am Lord Draycoott, I have shiny boots and gold eyes and I look down my fancy nose at roof leaks—"

The shop door snapped open.

I froze mid-step, my posture instantly crumpling as Lord Draycott popped his head back inside through the door frame. His dark hair was already wet with rain, and his golden eyes pinned me to the spot.

I squeaked, jumping back so hard my hip slammed into the work table, sending a metal ruler clattering to the floor.

He didn't even blink at the noise. He just looked at me—stiff, mid-mockery, and caught dead to rights.

"And do not attempt to open it near open flame," he added smoothly, as if I hadn't just been stomping around doing an impression of him. "It reacts badly to heat."

My face burned bright red. I clasped my hands behind my back and stood as straight as a board. "Got it. No fire. Goodbye, My Lord."

A faint, infuriating smirk flashed across his face, gone so fast I almost missed it.

"Good day, Miss Wells."

The door clicked shut again. This time, the bell stayed silent.

I stood completely still for five full seconds, staring at the door, my chest heaving.

"Arrogant, annoying, golden-eyed bastard," I hissed under my breath.

I let out a long breath and looked down at the counter. The watch sat on the dark cloth, completely still again.

I leaned over the table and held my hands over the glass. "Let's see what you are hiding."

I focused, pushing a stronger line of my magic straight into the center of the watch.

The watch did not just warm up this time—it hummed.

A low sound filled the small room, loud enough to shake the metal buckets on the floor. The glass face turned white with thick fog from the inside.

Along the dark metal rim, a thin, bright line of gold light turned on.

Three ticks.

The gold second hand began to move. It did not move forward. It spun backward—once, twice, three times fast.

The air in the room suddenly changed. My hair stood on end. The gold light pushed against my skin like a shock.

I jumped back two full steps, hitting the edge of my desk as my hands flew to my chest.

The watch sat on the counter, ticking backward into the silence of the shop.

I stared at it, my heart beating fast.

"What the hell are you?"