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  There’s a photo with President Turner, Edward Barnes, and the Sire in his dragon form. They’re posing in a forest clearing. Both boys wear their uniforms: emerald blazers and pants, with golden ties and matching vests. While President Turner has always been chubby, Barnes was a lanky guy. His curly reddish-brown hair looks ruffled on purpose. He flashes the camera a winner’s smile. The Sire gleams in his ninety-foot-tall body. He’s a mighty beast dripping in diamond scales. President Turner has dead eyes. There’s a quiet scream for help in his pursed lips.

  I keep searching for more articles. One calls President Turner completely ignorant of the dragon’s curse and its contents. He’d passed a lie detector test using a Truth Charm. He hadn’t known where Barnes ran off to after his family’s death. The picture in the forest clearing is the only one with all three together, and he looks super uncomfortable.

  What if he’d known how evil the Sire was all along? What if he knows something about the curse, too, and he’s tricked the bureau into believing otherwise? The only reason he’d have for hiding that information is to prevent the curse from being replicated.

  Manny’s voice blares through the intercom. “Lana, I need you in the dining room.” He sounds like he’s been chain-smoking for seven days straight, but the fact he’s even acknowledging me is huge, let alone that he’s asking to see me.

  Maybe this is my chance to trick him into spilling the tea on London? I send a silent prayer for alcohol to be in Manny’s proximity. That’ll definitely make my job easier.

  I rush to the dining room.

  Manny’s the only one there. He’s yawning as he types something super fast on his phone. There’s no alcohol around, but there’s a small ice-blue box with a matching bow on top. A note on ivory paper has been placed next to it.

  I sit on the chair to Manny’s left. “What’s up?”

  “President Turner wants you to have this.” Manny slides the box over to me.

  Whoa. So this is from the president? “What is it?”

  “If you open the box, you’ll see.”

  I roll my eyes as I untie the bow. It slips off without hassle. When I open the box, my eyes grow twice their size. There’s a cake inside. It’s a square delicacy, covered in frosting the same color as its packaging. The piping consists of white buttercream that resembles dragon scales. They’re tiny enough to pluck free with my pinky. The scent of fresh strawberries lingers in the air, but since there’s none on top of the cake, they must be its filling.

  I grab the ivory paper on the table. There’s a message for me:

  Dearest Ms. Torres,

  My apologies for missing you at last night’s welcome party! I was looking forward to celebrating you joining Team Puerto Rico, but a slight health complication prevented me from attending. Here’s a special treat to make up for my absence. And don’t worry about calories! They’ve been removed with a Vanish Charm just for you. Enjoy!

  Your friend,

  Russell Turner, IBF President

  My stomach turns. Is he assuming I’m worried about calories because I’m an athlete, or because I’m a girl? Either way, President Turner is sending me apology presents. He’s referring to himself as my friend. Maybe he holds me in high regard, but this feels … calculated. He wants me to feel special, and I have no clue why.

  “Did the others get cake after joining the team?” I ask Manny.

  He lowers his phone, side-eyeing me. “What does that matter?”

  So they didn’t. Looks like I’m his favorite. I don’t deserve that label, and even if I did, it’s a clear conflict of interest. The thought of being this important to a president with a past that links him to a terrorist unsettles me even more.

  As much as I should focus on training, I can’t think about anything else until I figure out what the president’s deal is.

  “If you stare at that cake any harder,” Manny says, “it’ll turn into dust.”

  I scowl at him. He might tell me about London if I’m clever enough, but he’ll never fess up to whatever this cake really means. If I want answers, I have to find them elsewhere.

  I push my chair back, ripping the note into pieces. I toss them into the nearest trash bin.

  “What are you doing?” Manny’s tone is alarmed enough to sound like he cares.

  I pick up the kitchen phone and press the Intercom button. “This is Lana. There’s calorie-free cake in the kitchen for you all. A treat from President Turner. Come get your slice.”

  I hang up and sit back down.

  Manny’s eyes bore holes into the side of my face. Then he storms outside. Hopefully, he’ll tell President Turner I’m not accepting this gift or anything else he sends me. I’m not supposed to be the IBF’s favorite. I’m not their puppet or tool, either. My teammates have been training far longer than I have. They deserve way more than a small share of cake, but it’s a start.

  Besides, I’m going to need all the help I can get to find out what’s really going on.

  I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE EAT SO FAST.

  Luis is a human vacuum cleaner, devouring his slice in a matter of seconds. He’s moaning like it’s the best cake he’s ever had. Héctor and Edwin poke fun at him, but they’re also gobbling up their slices in a joyous frenzy. Either they haven’t eaten cake in a long time, or this is really the most amazing dessert they’ve come across. Génesis savors every bite as if it’s her last. Gabriela takes selfies with her plate, checking every picture with military-grade precision. She loads up the best ones to her social media accounts, then digs in, grinning the whole time.

  Victoria hasn’t touched her plate. She’s watching everyone in silence, but especially me.

  “I can save you that slice for later if you’re not hungry,” I tell her as kindly as possible. This is my chance to get her on my side.

  “I’m good.” She eyes the cake like it’s stuffed with rat poison.

  I hold back a sigh and cut my slice into more manageable bites. The strawberry filling is rich and gooey, dripping all over the plastic fork. The cake itself is vanilla, which isn’t my favorite, but the filling packs it with the perfect balance of tart and sweetness.

  My teammates are talking to one another in rapid Spanish, delighting in their gift.

  “Doesn’t food like this cost hundreds of dollars?” says Luis.

  “Thousands,” I clarify. “Gold Wands are the only ones who can perform the Vanish Charm, which is why calorie-free food is in such high demand around the world. My best friend isn’t capable of magic like that, even if it’s just destroying calories.”

  “What a special gift,” Victoria says sarcastically. So she knows this isn’t normal, too, which might make her hate me more. Like I had something to do with being treated this way.

  I’m about to change the subject, but Héctor beats me to it. “Your best friend’s a witch?”

  “Yeah, she’s a Copper Wand. Her name’s Samira.”

  Luis poses with a hand under his chin. “Is she cute?”

  “Ay, por favor, Luis,” Edwin says. He pretends to puke on his empty plate.

  I laugh along with everyone except Victoria, who gives a reluctant half smile. Once the laughter dies down, I set my fork aside and look over each of my teammates, saving Victoria for last. “So tell me about home. What’s it like to be the first dragon riders on the island?”

  For a split second, Victoria lights up like a whole park full of Christmas trees. Then she quickly shifts back into her usual sour expression, as if she’s angry I made her smile. She pulls her chair closer to the table. “People treat us better than rock stars,” she speaks in the softest voice. “They mail us letters and gifts to the San Juan house. They want selfies whenever we’re out and about. Someone got a tattoo of my autograph. We get haters, too, but the love is louder.”

  “So much louder,” Gabriela says with a nod.

  “My life sucked so much before Esperanza found me,” Victoria continues, “but she made the bad things go away. I had to move out of Loíza
because the bureau needed us in a bigger house, so I did feel shitty about leaving Héctor and Génesis behind, but a week later Titán found Héctor right down my street. Rayo landed on Génesis’s doorstep the week after that.”

  I pretend I’m hearing their stories for the first time. Gabriela recalls how Puya had found her in her southern hometown of Ponce. She’d been getting a crown braid done at a hair salon when Puya landed in the parking lot. Edwin and Luis had Bonded with their steeds after wrapping up a school day. They’d been studying at the same high school in Carolina, but had never spoken to each other. Fantasma startled everyone when he landed outside the school gates; same with Daga a week later. Héctor had been rereading one of his favorite Black Panther graphic novels when Titán found him. Génesis is the only one who’d been asleep during Rayo’s arrival.

  They also tell me about relocating to dragon-friendly housing in San Juan with their families. Victoria and Gabriela both brought their moms, Edwin brought his grandparents (they raised him on their own), and the others brought both of their parents. Each family lived in separate houses, much like the Compound residences. It was only when President Turner invited them to compete in the Cup that they all lived under the same roof without their loved ones.

  “Has President Turner always been chummy with you or strictly professional?” I ask.

  Héctor says, “He’s been a mix of both. Nowadays we see less of him, but when we used to train back in San Juan, he would fly in almost every weekend to watch our progress.”

  “Was he alone, or did he bring staff along?”

  “Always alone,” says Génesis. “Why?”

  “Just wondering.” I take a bite of cake, licking the sugary sweet frosting off my lips. “What was it like when he first invited you to the Cup?”

  My teammates take swift and animated turns discussing President Turner’s invitation. Back in December 2015, he’d flown them to IBF headquarters in London. He’d gotten a private jet for them, along with a five-star hotel stay and extra days for sightseeing. That had been Edwin, Victoria, and Génesis’s first time on a plane. None mention anything unusual about the grand gesture or the president’s behavior during their trip. Luis even refers to him as “a fuego,” which is an expression used to compliment someone on their awesomeness.

  I shrug. “Did any of his gifts feel like too much from someone who’s basically a stranger?”

  “You’re asking a lot of questions, Lana,” Victoria butts in. “I think it’s only fair we ask you some, too. Why haven’t you returned to Puerto Rico?”

  I sit back, arms hanging limp at my sides. Where the hell did that come from? “My dad lives in Brazil. I don’t have any family left on the island,” I reply with a dry mouth.

  “Bullshit.” Victoria’s definitely not the whole park full of Christmas trees anymore. “Your mom has enough money to buy you a plane ticket. You could have reconnected with your roots if you really wanted to. And before you feed me some line about ‘your roots go wherever you are,’ it’s not the same thing. People who think that are trying to justify their indifference.”

  “Victoria. Stop.” Héctor’s tone is stern enough to scare even the most rebellious of souls.

  I don’t know why he’s stopping her. He feels the same way.

  Victoria says, “You can call yourself one of us, Lana. That’s cool. What bothers me is knowing how much it means to our fans to see our flag in the Blazewrath World Cup, and the person who gets to be our flag bearer during the opening ceremonies hasn’t touched Puerto Rican soil in twelve years.” She pauses with a sneer. “By choice.”

  The room shrinks three sizes smaller. Everyone starts talking at the same time, mostly in Spanish, but I can only see the ice-cold girl challenging me yet again. All I want is to annihilate her low opinion of me. The harder I try to defend myself, the quieter I am. I could’ve visited Puerto Rico. Mom hadn’t stopped me, but she never suggested it, either. I didn’t ask because I’d figured she’d be pissed. She would’ve seen it as another betrayal.

  I rub the back of my neck as pangs of guilt shoot through me. The memories I hold dear aren’t of the island itself. They’re about me and Papi doing what we love in the place he loves the most. I hadn’t spent enough time in Puerto Rico to understand it as more than the backdrop of my wildest dreams. It’s not enough to be a part of this team to confirm I am Puerto Rican. It’s not the same to read about and see pictures of a place rather than to be in the thick of things.

  I hoped I’d be accepted as a team member, as another Boricua, once I got here.

  But my roots will always be deemed too shallow.

  “Lana? Did you hear me?” Héctor’s voice is sweeter than honey. “You are one of us.”

  I’m welling up with every breath. Why is he so determined to lie? Does he not see how easily I can see right through him? “Whatever … I, um … I have to practice …”

  I’m out of the dining room in a blur. I catch a few voices calling my name, imploring me to stay, but I jog to the elevators before anyone can stop me. My sobs grow louder as I press the button to get to my room, wishing I could hit Delete on this whole morning instead. I’m not fast enough to outrun the Blockers. I’m not good enough at fighting them. I’m not Puerto Rican enough to raise the island’s flag high during the opening ceremonies, or to wear the Blazewrath uniform. Victoria’s approach might not have been the kindest, but she has a point.

  I don’t belong on this team.

  Extensive research has failed to provide a justification as to why dragons seldom Bond with witches and wizards. The most popular theory among magical-history buffs is the complicated relationship between the two species prior to the Reveal in 1743. There are recorded instances of European dragons engaging in open hostilities with the magical community. Most of these hostilities had been enacted to defend habitats and/or protect their eggs. Another popular theory involves dragons steering clear of those with the magical ability to wipe them out. This suggests dragons can choose with whom they Bond, which invalidates the destiny theory. If proven true, dragons have been in complete control of their fates (and their magic) all along.

  —Excerpt from Edna Clarke’s Magical History for Regulars, Twelfth Edition

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WHEN I ARRIVE IN TRAINING ROOM C, MY FIGHTING EQUIPMENT is right where Edwin and Génesis left it, waiting for me to pick it back up. Chances are both Manny and Joaquín are skipping my practice to watch Victoria act like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to the universe. I couldn’t catch what the rest of the team said to her as I left. A part of me wishes I had.

  I sniffle. Nobody’s watching me cry today. One humiliating experience is enough.

  “Hey!” Edwin bolts into the room. Génesis is hot on his heels. “¿Estás bien?”

  “Mm-hmm …” I lie on my back with a deep sigh. My peace is over before it could begin.

  “Don’t dwell on what she said, Lana. Victoria can be … too much.” Génesis stands next to me. “I’m sure she was just trying to understand you better, but her methods are terrible.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Génesis frowns. “That’s fair. Let’s get you ready to fight. We’re covering a lot today.”

  Edwin offers me a hand.

  I glare at it. My heart isn’t remotely near the vicinity of wanting to pretend I’m fighting someone. Not after Victoria swept the floor with me. Not after President Turner’s fishy apology cake. I’d thought of myself as worthy because I was born on the island. I’m worthy because I’m fast. The Waxbyrne incident proved it, but I’d been running with a purpose then.

  I had something to protect.

  I sit up straight. The hole inside makes me ache for Training Room E. If I’m going to call myself Puerto Rico’s Runner, I have to put that title on myself and live up to it. I can’t wait for Joaquín or my teammates to tell me I’m ready. I have to show them I’m ready. All I need is something to protect. I don’t belong on this team, but I
still want to.

  And I will.

  I make a beeline for the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Génesis asks.

  “You wanna fight?” I say. “Meet me on the mountain.”

  I march like a soldier, out for blood, on my way to Training Room E.

  JOAQUÍN IS JOTTING SOMETHING ON HIS NOTEPAD AS I APPROACH. Manny’s nowhere to be found, most likely hiding in his room doing absolutely nothing. The dragons must still be in the habitat, either sleeping or lounging around until they’re called for practice.

  I halt in front of Joaquín. “I’m running up the mountain today. I need the Iron Scale.”

  He looks up, his forehead creased. “Excuse me?”

  “The Iron Scale. I need it.” I point to the mountain. “To practice.”

  Joaquín puts his pen down. He sighs like I’ve exhausted him. “You’re not ready.”

  “Yes, I am. I just need the Iron Scale to protect. Give it to me.”

  The elevator doors open behind me. The rest of the team files into the room, all wearing matching expressions of “What the actual hell is happening?”

  Joaquín waits for them to surround us, then says, “You haven’t been cleared for the mountain, Lana. Go back to Training Room C. We’ll discuss your next steps later.”

  I don’t move.

  Joaquín waits for me to get lost, but his shoulders slump lower and lower, as if he’s losing hope of getting me to the track. “You really think you can do this?”