“But … all these details,” Leaf said helplessly. Where should he begin? What was important, and what could he leave out? It was too much. He couldn’t do this alone.
“Just do the best you can,” Grove said. “I’ll show you how to pick the lock and you can come in and work on it any chance you get.”
“I wish Wren were here,” Leaf admitted. He looked down at the floor. He hadn’t said those words out loud in years.
Me too, said the Wren in his head. I’d be great at copying this map, uncovering Trout’s secrets, and figuring out how to break into a dragon palace.
“Imagine that she is,” Grove said, touching Leaf’s shoulder. “Think of what her advice would be, and imagine her watching you. She’d be excited about this, wouldn’t she? I remember she was always either mad or excited about something.”
That’s true, Wren whispered. Stealing something this incredible from those jerkface dragonmancers? You clearly have to. Do it for me.
Leaf sat down and started to draw.
“This is it!” Ivy danced around Violet’s room, throwing her arms wide. “This is the day we finally become Wingwatchers! I can’t believe it!”
“I can’t believe you talked us into this,” Violet said from her hammock. She turned a page of her book. “I’m supposed to be on the law council track.”
“Boring!” Daffodil shouted. She grabbed Ivy’s hands and spun her around. “We’re going to see dragons and watch dragons and ride dragons!”
“Seeing and watching are the same thing,” Violet observed. “And you are definitely not going to ride any dragons, you lunatic.”
Ivy had imagined this day for so long, but she had never thought it would all really happen — that she’d still be best friends with Violet and Daffodil when they were thirteen, that they’d be speaking to one another, that they’d all be starting Wingwatcher training together.
“Let’s go now,” she suggested. “Let’s be early!”
“That will be so novel for Daffodil,” Violet said. “I’m not sure her heart could take it.”
“I was early for school once last year,” Daffodil said proudly. Her face darkened. “Because Daisy tricked me about what time it really was. That only worked once, though. I never let her fool me again!”
Now that they were thirteen, Daffodil had switched to a ponytail, and she usually managed to “lose” the yellow ribbon her mother put in, most often before lunch. Out of the three of them, she was probably the most excited about the Wingwatcher uniform, since it meant she could finally wear a dark color.
Violet was the tallest and got the best grades, except when their teachers marked her down for asking too many questions or arguing about details. She’d cut her hair to chin length and she’d convinced Ivy to draw matching dragon wings on the backs of all their hands. Everyone thought they represented their new Wingwatcher status, but they were secretly symbols of the Truth Seekers.
Ivy had thought about cutting her hair, too, but she knew her mother would be upset if she did. Mother was already not convinced that being a Wingwatcher was a good idea, so Ivy didn’t want to give her anything else to fuss about.
The Wingwatcher welcome ceremony was in one of the bigger caves, not far from the exit where Ivy had been sneaking out with Foxglove for the last five years. Two Wingwatchers were already there when they arrived: Squirrel and the commander, Brook.
Most Wingwatchers started training at age thirteen, guarding the exits at age fifteen, running missions outside at age sixteen, and then, if they survived, usually retired back to another job inside the caves sometime between ages twenty-two and twenty-five. Brook was one of the few who’d stayed on; she was somewhere in her forties, won every strength competition the village ever had, and apparently loved recruiting new Wingwatchers more than anything else in the world.
“My babies!” she yelled enthusiastically as Ivy, Violet, and Daffodil came in. “So ready to learn! You’re my favorites!” She galloped over and shook all their hands, beaming.
“What about me?” Forest asked, coming in behind them with an injured expression.
“You are my favorite son,” Brook clarified. “These three are my favorite recruits.”
Forest looked skeptical about that distinction, perhaps because he was Brook’s only son. Ivy would not have guessed, five years ago, that he’d ever want to be a Wingwatcher like his mother. She still didn’t think he could make it through an entire silent patrol without pretending to fart, laughing his head off, falling out of a tree, or accidentally setting something on fire. Violet was entirely certain that he’d only been allowed to join because of Brook, although, as she said, “They also took Daffodil, so maybe they just have very low standards.” Which had prompted Daffodil to steal all of Violet’s writing utensils for a week, a very Violet-specific form of torture.
“Ivy,” Brook said. “Any word from your uncle Stone?”
Ivy shook her head. Her uncle had left Valor abruptly a year earlier and hadn’t been seen since. His cave was still reserved for him, in the hope that he would return.
“Sorry to hear that.” The commander shook her head. “He never quite recovered from what happened in the desert.”
“What do you mean? What happened?” Violet asked sharply, but Brook was distracted by the arrival of more guests and bounded away without answering.
“Hmmmmmmmm,” Daffodil said, giving Violet a one-eyebrow-raised look.
“Indeed,” Violet said. “Secrets are afoot. Ivy, do you know what she meant?”
Ivy shook her head, but she had a vague memory of asking her mother why Uncle Stone was always so sad, and getting the impression that there was a reason she was too young to know about.
The cave gradually filled with current Wingwatchers, the other three recruits, and their families. Daffodil’s sister Daisy waved at Ivy from across the food table, but Daffodil dragged Ivy away before she could go say hi. Violet’s dads both stopped by to hug each of them, still looking vaguely confused about why Violet was doing this at all.
Finally Foxglove came over, beaming, to greet Ivy and her friends.
“I brought you something,” Ivy said to her shyly, handing her a folded note. Inside was Ivy’s best ever drawing of a dragon in flight — a black one, like the one they’d seen together that first day, with its glorious wings filling the page. In the corner she’d written Thank you for everything.
“Aw,” Foxglove said with a grin, studying the drawing. “I didn’t have to say anything to get you in, you know. Brook wanted you as soon as she saw the first drawing in your portfolio. We haven’t had a recruit with artistic talent in years.” She winked at Ivy, tucking the drawing into her pocket. “Maybe it’s time for an updated Wingwatcher’s Guide.”
“YES! Can I write the words?” Violet interjected. “I have so many suggestions!”
“So do I!” Daffodil chimed in.
Violet eyed her disapprovingly. “I have good suggestions. And a passing grade in writing, unlike some people.”
“I PASSED,” Daffodil objected. “I DID pass. Passing on the second try is STILL PASSING. I am a GREAT writer, Violet Know-It-All Face!”
“Ivy, who’s a better writer?” Violet demanded.
“Eep!” Ivy said. “I’m definitely not answering that!”
“Because it’s me,” Violet said pityingly to Daffodil, “and she doesn’t want you to have a huge temper tantrum about it.”
“Because it’s ME,” Daffodil said furiously, “and she knows YOU will act all WOUNDED and OFFENDED for a YEAR if she tells you so!”
“Nobody’s writing a new guide yet,” Ivy interrupted, trying to sound as soothing as possible. “We have lots of research to do before there’s enough information for that.”
“Research,” Violet sighed happily. Daffodil wrinkled her nose.
“Which will require expeditions,” Ivy said to her. “Up into the mountains! Maybe out to the desert!”
“Ooooooooo,” Daffodil said with shining eyes.
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br /> “I like your wings,” Foxglove said, pointing to the back of Violet’s hand.
“Yeah, they’re awesome. Ivy drew them,” Violet said. “Are you planning to retire soon, Foxglove?”
The Wingwatcher looked startled. She’d met Ivy’s friends before, and even taken them outside a few times, but she hadn’t spent a lot of time in the line of fire of Violet’s blunt questions.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said. She glanced around the cave. “Most of us are … planning to stay on for a while.”
“I noticed that,” Violet said. “I noticed that no one from Pine’s year has retired, even though you all could by now, if you wanted to.”
Foxglove tilted her head at Violet with a thoughtful expression. After a moment, she said, “Most people don’t talk about Pine very much anymore.”
“Because they’re usually talking about whoever the latest banishment was instead,” Violet said. “But I bet you guys still talk about him. Him, and the other three Wingwatchers who’ve been banished since then.”
“It’s not actually safe to talk about them too much,” Foxglove observed, taking a step back from Violet but still studying her curiously. “If you have thoughts about them, perhaps you could share them with me later, in a … quieter setting. Oh, look, Squirrel needs my help with the strawberries. Excuse me.” She dove back into the crowd and hurried away.
“You are as subtle as a grizzly bear,” Daffodil hissed.
“We’re all Wingwatchers now, aren’t we?” Violet said with a dazzling smile. “I’m just interested in what the older Wingwatchers think about, and talk about, and also hypothetically possibly whether there’s a secret Wingwatcher conspiracy afoot.”
“What?” Ivy said, startled.
“I’ve told you there’s no way,” Daffodil whispered, “and that it’s really rude to talk about in front of Ivy!”
“Hey,” Ivy objected. “Are you serious? You guys are keeping a secret from me?”
“I didn’t want to,” Violet said. “Daffodil made me.”
“And just this once you’re terrible at it?” Daffodil threw up her hands.
“She should know,” Violet said in a low voice. “She might hear something, now that we’ll be around them all the time.”
“Know what?” Ivy asked. “What kind of conspiracy? What’s your evidence?”
“I suspect someone is planning a revolution,” Violet whispered, in a voice nearly as dramatic as Daffodil’s. “Most likely from within the Wingwatchers. They’re not happy about how Valor is run. I’ve seen all kinds of clues.”
“You have?” Ivy’s mind was reeling.
“That’s the real reason Violet agreed to be a Wingwatcher,” Daffodil said, folding her arms. “Because she couldn’t stand it if there was a conspiracy and she missed it.”
“Oh,” Ivy said. “I thought it was because we were all excited about dragons.”
Violet put one arm around Ivy and glared at Daffodil. “It is also because we are all excited to do this together,” she said. “Daffodil, stop ruining Ivy’s big day.”
“You’re the one ruining it!” Daffodil whispered furiously. “Investigating nonexistent conspiracies to overthrow Ivy’s dad!”
“Oh my goodness,” Ivy said, everything hitting her at once.
It couldn’t be true. Could it?
The Wingwatchers were amazing and could do no wrong. She’d follow Commander Brook and Foxglove to all three moons and back again.
But if they were really plotting revolution … that meant taking down the government of Valor … and the government meant Ivy’s father, who happened to be swaggering into the cave at that very moment.
“Hello, Wingwatchers!” he boomed. “What an exciting day! Recruits, line up for inspection!”
Ivy stood between Violet and Daffodil (her usual spot — it kept them from elbowing each other, arguing, or pulling each other’s hair), with Forest on the other side of Daffodil and Moth on the other side of Violet. She tried to shake off what her friends had said. Violet always saw secrets and conspiracies everywhere. She was right most of the time, but sometimes she was wrong. This had to be one of those times.
The Dragonslayer paced slowly down the line, wearing his Very Serious expression, which he put on for most formal occasions where people would be watching.
“What’s this?” he said, stopping in front of Ivy. “How did you Wingwatchers get your talons on the smartest girl in Valor? Young lady, I hope you don’t have any plans to run right at the dragons like your brave old man.”
“No, sir,” Ivy said, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back at him. He was joking, and it wasn’t the most accurate joke — Ivy was far from the smartest girl in Valor (that would be Violet) — but it always felt something like sunlight when her father paid attention to her.
“I’ll come poke them for you if you need me to,” he said, patting his sword with one hand and clapping her on the shoulder with the other.
“We generally avoid poking them, sir,” Commander Brook said, polite but with a hint of judgment underneath. Heath squinted at her.
“Well, good,” he said after a moment. “Leave that to the Dragonslayer, eh?” He chuckled. “Just take care of my little girl out there!”
“Dad,” Ivy said, embarrassed. Now this was too much attention. She didn’t want to be treated any differently than the other Wingwatchers. She wondered if she was imagining the looks the older Wingwatchers were giving one another — as though her father were a wasp’s nest hanging over their heads. As though they were deciding right then whether they could trust her or not.
“The Wingwatchers are some of the most important people in Valor!” Heath declared, standing back to survey them all. “We have always needed brave young people like you to watch the skies for our greatest enemies. You protect us all. You are our first line of warning and defense. As long as we have Wingwatchers, the dragons will never find us. Of course, if they do, I’ll slay them and save us all. But what you do is very important, too. Thank you for volunteering! Let’s raise a toast to your sharp eyes and your courage!”
Ivy lifted the glass of apple cider someone handed her. She couldn’t help remembering the day she’d seen her father race through the forest, fleeing in panic from the sound of a dragon. Courage wasn’t the first thing that came to mind anymore when she thought about the Dragonslayer.
What if … he shouldn’t be the lord of Valor anymore?
It gave her chills inside and out to even think those words.
At the end of the ceremony and the toasting and the eating and the mingling, as people were starting to leave, Foxglove found Ivy again and gave her a hug.
“You did it,” she said. “That tiny little miscreant I met five years ago has finally become a real Wingwatcher.”
“Well, I still have to go through training,” Ivy said.
“Pshaw.” Foxglove waved her hand in the air. “You already know more than any of your teachers. Which reminds me, don’t listen to a word Chipmunk says; he made sure all his outdoor missions were at night and hardly even saw one dragon.”
“When do we get to start watching for dragons?” Ivy asked. “Tomorrow? Can we do a skygazing mission tomorrow?” Skygazing could mean going outside and climbing a tree, or it could mean going to one of the spots in Valor with a view of the sky; either way, Ivy would be happy to stare into the blue all day, waiting for a dragon.
With Foxglove, so far she’d seen ten sand dragons, nine mountain dragons, two mud dragons, and one that was such a weird purplish color that they’d both decided the sun must have been in their eyes. They hadn’t seen a black dragon again since the first day, but Ivy loved all of them.
Is Foxglove part of the conspiracy? she suddenly thought. The world went sharp and then blurry around her. Is that the only reason she’s been so nice to me all this time? Because she’s using me to spy on my dad? That first day outside, when they’d followed Heath together, suddenly took on a very different light.
Ivy wished she could go back to the beginning of the day, when all she was thinking about was how soon they could see another dragon.
“We’ll see, Ivy Who Loves Dragons,” Foxglove said with a smile. She hesitated, then crouched beside Ivy. “Listen, don’t let the commander know how you feel about the dragons, all right? She lost a lot of people when the village burned.”
“Oh,” Ivy said, feeling guilty. “Of course, I’ll be careful. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She hadn’t even thought about the fact that Brook was old enough to have lived in the old village. That meant she’d known Heath before he was the Dragonslayer.
Ivy glanced across the cave at the Wingwatcher commander, who was trapped in a corner listening to Ivy’s father as he declaimed about something.
Brook was very good at keeping her face expressionless, but Ivy was very good at figuring out when people were angry, or about to get angry. She could see the grip Brook had on her cup of cider, and the little lines of tension around her eyes.
How did she really feel about the Dragonslayer?
If Violet was right, and someone in the Wingwatchers was planning a revolution, did Brook know about it?
Could it be Brook herself?
I’m a Wingwatcher now, Ivy thought. Brook is my commander.
But Dad is … my dad. He made mistakes and lied a lot, but he still loved her, in his way, and Mother loved him, and Ivy loved him, too, the side of him that was her father.
If Violet and Daffodil found proof of a secret conspiracy, what was Ivy going to do?
Will I have to choose between my friends, my dream, and the dragons … or my family?
After seven years living on her own with a dragon, Wren figured she probably knew more about the geography of the world than any other human in it. She’d finally given up on the useless maps most people had and was working on her own. It was beautiful, if she did say so herself, and intricately detailed. It certainly helped to have a dragon’s eyes overhead, describing the coastline and spotting landmarks for her.
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