Page 47 of Forged Flight

Micah shoots me a look.

I clear my throat. “Really?”

“They’re delicious!” She laughs. “Actually, the king is particularly fond of them. He bought an entire shipment of spores from me last year.”

Micah goes still. “The king?”

“Aye.” She nods. “He said they were for his personal palace garden. Apparently, he wanted to grow them himself.”

My stomach twists.

She holds the mushroom out toward Micah. “Do you want to taste it?”

Micah reaches for it, but before he can take it, a gust of wind rolls through the meadow. The mushroom’s rich scent fills the air.

Meaty, salty, savory.

I inhale—and suddenly hear scratching behind me. I glance over my shoulder.

Maple is clawing her way out of my backpack, apparently having woken from her nap. Her little head pokes through the top flap before she scrambles out with surprising determination, her claws catching on the straps as she climbs up my back.

Before I can stop her, she clambers onto my shoulders and settles herself around my neck.

Her eyes lock onto the mushroom in Amanita’s hand, nostrils flared.

Amanita gasps. “Oh, my! Is that a dragon?”

Panic flashes over Micah’s face. “She’s my patient,” he rushes to explain. “I promise, she’s harmless! Please, don’t tell—”

“How adorable!”

Amanita’s eyes light up as she reaches across the fence and scratches the top of Maple’s head. She coos and squeals, making little kissy noises as she strokes the dragon’s horns.

Well, at least she’s not afraid of her.

Maple practically melts beneath her attention. A low purr rumbles in her chest.

Amanita glances toward the mushroom in her other hand. “She’s cute,” she says. “But she definitely shouldn’t eat this.”

Micah raises a brow. “Why not?”

Amanita’s smile fades. “They’re toxic to dragons.”

My blood runs cold.

Beside me, Micah freezes. “What?”

“They cause all sorts of mutations.” She looks down at the mushroom, her expression suddenly solemn. “They wiped out the entire population of dragons on the Isle of Palmere.”

Silence falls over the meadow.

I stare at Maple. Her gaze remains fixed on the mushroom, her little body practically vibrating with anticipation. If it weren’t for the leash tied to my backpack strap, she’d probably be lunging forward to swallow it whole.

“The flavor is irresistible to dragons,” Amanita continues. “They’ll go out of their way to eat them.”

“But…” His voice catches. “You said they don’t grow wild on Mount Embercrest.”

“They don’t.” Amanita shakes her head. “It’s a good thing too. Otherwise, the dragons would be in serious danger.”