Bartholomew always thought of the little girl as the girl, or sometimes as his project. But as she grew, he realized he could not just think of her like she was an object. Since the day she gained complete control over her transformation, she gained a personality. Overnight, she became brave and outspoken.

“Saya,” Bartholomew called out. “Could you light a fire for me?”

Saya pointed a finger at the hearth, and a plume of fire traveled from her fingertip to the kindling there. Within minutes, the room was warm, and Bartholomew took off his overcoat. The girl was growing everyday, in more ways than one. She ran and climbed all over the castle with her gangly adolescent limbs, friends all of the servants.

In his attempt to keep her at a distance, he had placed her in a position without a name. She was not a servant, but she was not on the level of those who were served. Her education was not that of a fine young lady’s. Tutors were assigned to them, and she went to her lessons diligently. However, she learned more from him and the castle library, and while it was a superior education to most, it was an abnormal one. Bartholomew supposed it might have also been an inappropriate one for a young woman.

It had not been intentional. He had hired governesses and private tutors, and while they did their job, she was not interested in etiquette lessons or dancing. She snuck into his workspace at night and tinkered with his precious ingredients. What irked him was how she often succeeded at her little concoctions, even before he had begun teaching her.

“I want access to the entirety of the castle library. Will that be possible?” Saya asked.

The castle library contained locked-off sections only accessible to those from the priesthood and Bartholomew himself. He had been careful to keep the girl out of the temple’s notice, but he could not risk them coming across one another.

“If you let me know what you are interested in, I could retrieve the books for you.”

“Never mind, then.”

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Bartholomew shook his head. Saya had secrets, and if it was a normal teenage girl, he would think nothing of it. But her secrets were not only hers. He knew that the dragon whispered to her, in her head, all the time. The girl had no money of her own, no title, no family, and her friends were those with little power. Yet she had the confidence of a queen. She was amiable, but she was headstrong and proud.

“I believe Miri will call for you soon,” he commented.

Miri had slowed with age. It was the consequence of working such a taxing position for so long. She had spent decades doing physical labor, and while he knew she should have retired, he let her keep working for the girl. He let the old woman struggle around the castle with her cane and her rheumatic joints because it benefited him.

He, somehow, could not extend that same callousness to the girl herself. Everything he knew of dragons and people told him that she was not to be trusted. Her smiles were superficial things meant for others, her true intentions hidden from everyone. He suspected that with his refusal, she would still find a way to get to the locked sections of the library. She wouldn’t get caught either.

Saya stood up from the armchair where she was reading a book.

“You won’t eat?” she asked.

“I’ll have servants bring me something.”

“Hmm.”

The derision was evident, and uncharacteristic of a child.

“Do you want to say something?” he asked.

“You seem to be trying everything to save yourself in the event that your experiment doesn’t go well. In case I rebel or end up losing control. But you’re ignoring the easiest path.”

“The easiest path?”

“The king invites you to every ball and dinner he hosts, especially when foreign dignitaries come to visit. You reject him every time. Do you not think it would be wise to earn his favor in case something goes wrong? He might be more merciful to a subject who satisfies his every whim? Is it so hard to go, perform a few parlor tricks, if it makes his royal highness happy?”

“I… do not have the talent of navigating court politics,” the wizard admitted.

“I’m not telling you to get involved in them. Stay there as a wallflower and perform little magic tricks to please the king.”

It was an order, and it irked Bartholomew.

“I think it is time you went downstairs,” he said sternly.

“Alright. I hope the rest of your day is pleasant,” she said.

Bartholomew huffed after she left. As if a pleasant day was possible after hearing such things. He made his way to his private rooms and called for his manservant. The king was throwing a small dinner for some of the visiting nobility. His invitation to Bartholomew had been mostly out of habit, but the king and nobles would no doubt be pleased by his attendance.