Page 1 of The Baby Dragon Cafe (The Baby Dragon #1)

Chapter 1

S aphira Margala had hardly had a moment to catch her breath all day.

The Baby Dragon Cafe had been extremely busy—which was a good thing, she reminded herself, even as her feet ached.

It was freshly spring, the very end of March. More and more people were coming out to town, spending their lunch breaks and evenings walking around Main Street, which resulted in better foot traffic for the cafe.

The days were getting longer, too, the sun shining bright for more hours, and everyone wanted to enjoy the warmth. If she stepped outside, Saphira was sure she would see at least half a dozen dragons flying above the valley, basking in the changed weather after the long, cold winter.

Starshine Valley was a haven for dragons and their riders. The small town was nestled between gorgeous, snow-capped mountains, and the terrain was perfect for flying, giving them beautiful views of forests and hills and lakes.

Saphira loved to watch the adult dragons in flight, mesmerized. She stood by the windows now, sneaking a glance at the majestic beasts. They were a little larger than the biggest breed of horse, so they cut distant but sharp silhouettes in the sky. They were such stunning creatures, absolutely breathtaking.

If only baby dragons could be so serene.

The little monsters in question pulled her attention back to her cafe, which was packed with customers lounging on various pieces of furniture and at tables. Some of the patrons’ baby dragons were by their side in little beds or caves, while some jumped up into the dragon trees or nooks hanging on the stone walls.

The sight of the baby dragons in her cafe filled Saphira with pride. She had opened six months ago, and hers was the first cafe to allow the little draggos in, which thrilled the people of Starshine Valley. Most establishments were pet-free, and many even had signs that specifically said NO BABY DRAGONS ALLOWED in big, bold letters.

Unfortunately, Saphira was beginning to understand why more and more.

She picked up empty mugs from a nearby table, pushing in the wood chairs before taking the dishes back to the counter. As she walked past a bearded father sipping a cappuccino and his young daughter munching on lemon-raspberry cake, Saphira was careful to watch her feet around the baby dragon playing with the girl’s swinging legs.

“Oh, sorry!” a young woman said, as she almost knocked into Saphira from behind.

“No worries!” Saphira replied, side-stepping. Unfortunately, as she did, she accidentally bumped into a baby dragon sleeping in a plush bed. The dragon snapped awake, releasing a puff of flames at her legs.

Heat singed the edge of Saphira’s skirt, and she yelped back. The now familiar scent of burned fabric filled the air. Fantastic.

All her dresses and skirts now had scorch marks at the ends, or bite marks, or occasionally both. Saphira knew she should be practical and wear trousers or jeans, but she loved how a pretty skirt made her feel. (Her love for aesthetics over practicality was a real problem.)

But as Saphira glanced at the perpetrator, she could not even be angry. The baby dragon looked up at her with blue eyes, innocence writ on its adorable face. Kneeling down, Saphira petted the dragon’s scaly skin, and it happily leaned into her touch.

Baby dragons were as mischievous as human toddlers, but also just as cute, if not more so. Saphira loved them dearly, which was why when she dreamed of opening her own cafe, little draggos were always part of that vision. At twenty-five, she was perhaps a little young to be a business owner, but she was doing her best.

Maneuvering herself back behind the counter, Saphira turned on the coffee grinder to prepare the next orders. She poured the cold drink into a crystal goblet and the hot one into a ceramic mug decorated with daisies, then placed snacks onto steel plates.

Once everything was ready, she placed it all onto a tray, weaving between busy tables and chairs with gossiping preteens and lovey-dovey couples before she reached her desired destination.

“I have a brown sugar cold foam cold brew for Mrs. Cartwright and a vanilla oat milk latte for Mrs. Li,” Saphira said, placing the drinks on the table in front of two old ladies.

They were sitting comfortably in lounge chairs by the big, open windows, a vase of fresh flowers and two glowing candles on their table.

Saphira bent down to the dragon beds on the floor by the ladies’ feet to give the treats to the baby dragons. One was an opala breed, with big, yellow eyes and iridescent white scales, while the other was an azura breed, with deep ocean-blue eyes and scales to match. Each was about a foot long with little wings.

“Beef jerky for little Thorn, and ginger candies for baby Viper,” she said, placing the steel plates in front of them.

Hands free, she then petted the baby dragons. They cooed in response, pleased, before digging into the snacks Saphira especially kept for her reptilian patrons.

“Thank you, darling,” Mrs. Cartwright said, her eyes crinkling behind her glasses. She set aside her knitting needles to take a sip of her cold brew, humming in satisfaction.

“You’re an angel,” Mrs. Li added, doing the same. “An absolute angel .”

Warmth coursed through Saphira; she beamed. “Let me know if I can get you anything else!”

“Some new wrists perhaps?” Mrs. Li asked, rubbing one of her wrinkled hands. “These are always giving me issues.”

“Make that two sets while you’re at it,” Mrs. Cartwright said, nodding in agreement.

“Hmm,” Saphira pretended to think. “I’ll check the kitchen and get back to you!” She winked, earning her a smile from the older ladies.

Just then, she heard a rumbling growl.

She looked down to see Viper had snatched a piece of beef jerky from Thorn, scarfing it down in two bites. Oh no . Saphira’s heart rate spiked with trepidation. Little Thorn wouldn’t like that …

As expected, Thorn shot a flame at Viper in response, and Viper hissed, gearing up to retaliate when Mrs. Cartwright gave her baby dragon a warning sound.

“Tch, Viper, hush,” Mrs. Cartwright said. “Quit fussing.”

“Thorn,” Mrs. Li said, tone stern. “Behave.”

The baby dragons relaxed from their fighting positions, and Saphira exhaled a breath of relief. Azura dragons and opala dragons were known to quarrel; however, because their riders were best friends, Thorn and Viper were forced to get along, which Saphira was glad for.

She couldn’t handle another disaster, not so soon after the last.

Only two weeks ago, she’d had to redo the bathroom’s plumbing after a baby dragon got over-excited in the bath, messing up all the pipes by using them as chew-toys. She hadn’t managed to stop it before it had mangled the lot. It had cost her a good bit of money, and she wasn’t keen on spending more to cover up the damages if two little dragons fought.

With a smile to Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Li, Saphira walked back to the counter, keeping her eyes peeled for more signs of trouble. Thankfully, the baby dragons all looked to be behaving.

She loved the little draggos, even if they were magnets for trouble. Baby dragons couldn’t fly beyond a flutter until they got a little older, which meant they were always jumping and bumping into things. Baby dragons also couldn’t control their fire, which meant they were constantly burning furniture.

Luckily, dragons matured after age two and continued developing until age five, at which point they were used for riding. Until then, however, they were a hazard. Saphira supposed she could have simply made the cafe dragon-proof—used only steel furniture and tables, which would be safe from bite and singe marks—but where was the fun in that? She had adored setting up and decorating the cafe to be the epitome of comfort. She had a vision, damn it!

The interior of the building had high ceilings and gorgeous exposed stone walls, with big, open windows, which let in a beautiful amount of natural light. There were comfortable lounge chairs by the tables in the front, then wooden farm chairs on the tables in the middle, and in the back, there were a few plush sofas with an abundance of soft pillows and warm throw blankets.

One of the stone walls was fitted with a large, wood-burning fireplace (the one place, she supposed, that was safe from baby dragon disasters). There were bookshelves in the back stacked with all her grandmother’s favorite novels, as well as some of her own. Hanging bulb lights provided a warm glow over the entire cafe, supplemented by the flickering flames of citrusy candles.

There were Mughal touches as well, in the fresco paintings and hand-carved wooden art she had hanging on the walls, along with framed photographs of stunning architecture and beautiful lines of Urdu poetry (which no, she couldn’t read, but yes, she had looked up the translations before purchasing), all nods to her heritage.

Saphira hated those establishments with bland, minimal designs; while her cafe could be considered a bit busy, it looked lived in, like a home. She loved it—even if she spent an undue amount of time rearranging and refurbishing details that the baby dragons had disturbed.

There was a garden out back that Saphira had plans to renovate for more space, once she had the time (and the money), but until then, the inner room was sufficiently cozy to house all her customers and their baby dragons.

It wasn’t the kind of cafe you went to for interviews or meetings; not even the kind of cafe you went to for studying or for work. It was the kind of cafe you went to for lattes on a first date, or to meet up with old friends over a pot of chai, or to read a book by the fire while sipping on a mug of hot chocolate with extra mini marshmallows.

A place where people connected —where you felt at home. Where you felt the very opposite of lonely.

Looking around at her cafe now, that was exactly how Saphira felt. She glanced at the baby dragons jumping between nooks on the stone walls, to the group of friends laughing over empty coffee mugs. The cafe was warm and full.

It was a dream come true. Saphira had worked in cafes since she was in high school, but she always aspired to having one of her own. She would sketch out the decor and make menus in the backs of her notebooks in class when she was supposed to be paying attention, and now those sketches had become a reality.

She wished Nani-Ma was here to see it.

Her grandmother had died a little over a year ago; she had been the only family Saphira had left. Saphira never knew her father, and her mother passed away when Saphira was little. It was Nani-Ma who had raised Saphira. Nani-Ma, who had made Saphira reach for her dream.

“When I’m gone, you must promise me,” Nani-Ma implored. “Promise me you’ll make the cafe come true.”

“I promise,” Saphira swore, holding tight to her grandmother’s hand.

A week later, Nani-Ma was dead, and Saphira was alone. She didn’t know how to make good on her promise to make her dream come true until she realized exactly how much of an inheritance her grandmother had left her.

And so, in her grief, Saphira clung to her dream, to the vision she had. She sold their cottage up in the hills and bought this space on Main Street, living in the one-bedroom apartment upstairs. It took six months of tireless effort to bring her cafe to life, and then, in October, it opened.

Six months later, at the end of March, and sales were doing well. The baby dragons caused a bit of trouble, but Saphira received a small payment from town for allowing dragons into her cafe, which helped.

Owning dragons was expensive—more costly than housing the finest horse—and it wasn’t merely the upkeep. Because dragons caused so much uncontrollable and unforeseen damage to the town, riders had to pay a special tax, the proceeds of which went toward refurbishments.

Such as that time when a garneta dragon who was just learning to fly accidentally crashed into the electricity lines and cut the power for the evening. Or that time an opala and an azura dragon fought on Main Street and demolished the gazebo. Situations like that.

Because of this, Saphira received a small stipend from the town for creating a space that dragons could enter. At first, she thought the extra cash was brilliant. Why didn’t all businesses allow dragons into their establishments and receive the payment? How silly they were!

Her feelings of superiority were quickly quashed after her first month, in which the stipend was spent on repairing nearly every piece of furniture in the cafe. And it had been the same every month since opening six months ago—the money slipped from her fingers before she knew it, and she had to dip into her savings to keep up with repairs. She had not anticipated just how unruly the baby dragons would be.

Saphira was now clear out of savings, hardly keeping her head above water. But so long as nothing burst into flames this week, she was sure it would be okay …

Unfortunately, her optimism only lasted about an hour.

“Flare, no!” a little girl’s voice called. Saphira looked to where the girl was chasing after her baby dragon. It was the girl who had been eating lemon-raspberry cake with her father—Aziz, Saphira believed his name was.

“Everything okay, Aziz?” Saphira asked, stepping out from behind the counter.

“Hana, we need to get Flare down,” Aziz told his daughter. “Sorry, Saphira, Flare’s just a little hyper, is all.”

But the baby dragon looked to be more than simply overactive. He had climbed onto the table and now jumped into the air, attempting flight.

“Flare, stop!” Hana called, tone petulant as the dragon landed on the back of a chair. The little draggo had mischief in his eyes, and before Hana could catch him, he jumped from the chair again, trying to fly.

Saphira grabbed some fried bitter gourds—baby dragons loved them!—holding her hand out for Flare. As he came closer, he caught the scent, turning towards her. His eyes widened with glee, and he jumped toward her, but the sight of the gourds seemed to excite the baby dragon too much. Leaping into the air, wings fluttering, he opened his mouth. Saphira saw red light at the back of his throat.

She knew what that meant.

Without hesitation, she ducked, covering her head just as flames shot over her. A few moments later, the heat faded.

Heart pounding, Saphira stood.

The smell of burned rubber and hot steel filled the air. The cafe went quiet, all eyes turning to the mess. Oh God . Slowly, Saphira turned, and that was when she saw.

Her espresso machine. The center had collapsed completely, and Saphira froze, staring at the melted mass. Her hands were shaking.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Aziz said. He reached into his pocket, pulling something out. “Here’s a copy of my insurance—I’m sure they’ll cover it.”

He handed Saphira a small card with information on it; riders were accustomed to carrying around copies of their Drakkon insurance for instances when their dragon was expressly to blame for damage.

“No worries,” Saphira squeaked, trying her best to give Aziz and his daughter an unbothered smile. She fought back the tears pricking her eyes. “Thank you.”

Distantly, Saphira heard Aziz scolding his daughter as they exited the cafe, but she hardly focused on it.

Saphira knew the insurance wouldn’t cover such an expense. Drakkon insurance only covered up to a certain amount, and Saphira had signed a waiver at the very start of her business, acknowledging this fact and the risk she was taking by allowing baby dragons into her establishment.

Insurance had not covered the damaged bathroom pipes, and it would not cover a ruined three-thousand-dollar espresso machine.

Panic flared through her. What was she going to do? She didn’t have the cash to buy a new espresso machine and, without it, how was she meant to run a cafe? Most of her sales came from overpriced lattes.

Anxiety spiked through her, tears welling in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away, forcing herself to take a deep breath, to stay calm. She would not freak out in front of her customers.

Maybe it wasn’t such a disaster, she told herself. After all, her menu was vast. Surely she would still be able to turn a profit, even without the espresso machine! It would only be a few weeks, she reasoned. Just until she could save up to buy another one.

Saphira knew one thing for certain, though: she would not give up. She couldn’t. Not when she had invested everything into this cafe. Not when she had promised Nani-Ma.

“Everything’s fine!” she called out to the cafe, donning her biggest, brightest smile. “Sorry about that! But you know how the baby dragons get!”

That earned her a few laughs, and in no time everyone was back to sipping their drinks, chatting amongst themselves.

For the next few days, Saphira ran business as usual. She made pastries and small plates, as well as snacks for the baby dragons. She had her teas—black, green, and herbal—and other types of coffee—pour-over, drip, cold brew. She had chai and refreshers and cocoa and matcha … but no espresso.

And suddenly, it seemed like everyone wanted espresso!

The Baby Dragon Cafe’s specialty, after all, was dragon-roasted coffee. The coffee beans were roasted by dragon flames until the beans developed sweet and rich profiles, full of body and texture.

Since the beans were roasted for longer than light, medium, and even dark roasts, the beans held a special, decadent flavor that shone in lattes, which Saphira particularly loved to pair with oat milk to pull out the nutty flavor. (It made for a great cold brew, as well, but that was always too bitter for Saphira—she preferred life to be sweet, in every aspect.)

“I’m sorry,” she said, refusing yet another customer who wanted a latte. “The new espresso machine is on its way! Things will be back to normal in a day or two, just hold on!”

But the words were like acid in her mouth because they were a lie.

That night, panic set in. Payday was coming up in two days, and she hardly had enough money in her bank to pay her assistant.

Saphira sat in her apartment, scared and alone, always alone. It was why she loved working in the cafe so much, being surrounded by people all day. When she was alone with her thoughts, she tended to spiral—as she was doing now.

Tears spilled onto her cheeks, anxiety pricking through her. She always cried too easily, Nani-Ma said.

“You must love life,” Nani-Ma would say, holding Saphira’s face in her hands as she wiped away Saphira’s tears. Saphira heard her grandmother’s voice in her head now. “Love it, even if you don’t have the heart for it.”

“I’m trying, Nani-Ma,” Saphira said to her empty apartment, her voice echoing in the silence.

All she ever did was try to love life, but it was like life didn’t want her love. Why else would everything be so hard, all the time? She wanted to rest. For things to be easy.

Wiping her tears, Saphira went down the stairs, to the cafe that was her dream. It was so quiet, everything empty and still. Without the rush of customers, Saphira could appreciate all the details that made her cafe hers, but the feeling wasn’t the same.

An empty house wasn’t a home; it was just another building.

From the windows, she saw that Starshine Valley was silent, all the shops closed. Saphira stepped closer to the windows, gazing up at the night sky, looking at the stars. Thousands of them were visible, shining bright and sure.

It was how the small town got its name. Out here, nestled between the mountains, you could see more stars than you could count, and their light shone down on the valley constantly.

Between the stars, she caught the silhouettes of a few dragons and their riders, out for a ride, and that familiar longing filled Saphira, the taste of it bitter at the back of her throat. She had always wanted a dragon of her own—had wanted one desperately—but she did not belong to one of the Drakkon families: those who had owned dragons for generations.

Years ago, she had made peace with the fact that she would never have a dragon of her own—which was around the time she had come up with the idea of the Baby Dragon Cafe, a place where she could be around dragons every day, even if she would never have one to call her own.

She had brought that idea to fruition; she had opened her cafe and surrounded herself with dragons daily. All with the help of Nani-Ma.

Nani-Ma, who had given Saphira everything, and all she wanted in return was for Saphira to make her dreams come true.

She looked around her cafe, at all the details she had meticulously designed, every inch of it intentional, every piece lovingly curated.

And then she saw the ruined espresso machine.

Saphira had made her dreams come true, yes, but how to sustain it? She had no idea.

Which was why Saphira remained lost in thought—until she saw the flames.