by Lisa McMann
Home at Last
The new arrivals ate heartily while Thisbe recounted the story of her time in the catacombs and her escape, as well as her time spent with Sky. Then Fifer told Aaron and the others about her group’s agonizing journey, their battle with the Revinir and its tragic ending, and the search for Thisbe. Aaron listened silently to the tale of his twin’s death. His face was gray and etched with grief, and he was unable to speak for a long while. When it came time to share his team’s story, Aaron nodded at Henry, asking him to do it. The young healer shared how things had gone down in Artimé from the time the world had turned gray.
Henry skimmed over the parts where Aaron had been challenged by the growing group of people who didn’t think he should be leading Artimé. He briefly mentioned one of the altercations, in which Aaron had felt that his son, Daniel, had been threatened.
Samheed frowned and glanced at Sean, who caught his eye with a grim look. Was there more to this than Henry was letting on? As uneasy as Samheed had been feeling, he wasn’t the least bit surprised that some other people back home had been vocal about Aaron being in charge. Not everyone had forgiven the young man—not everyone knew him as well as the group gathered here. So their judgments were sure to be skewed. Could that hurdle ever be overcome? Samheed turned his gaze toward Lani, who seemed sympathetic about what Aaron was going through.
Lani threw Samheed a warning look, as if she anticipated what Samheed might be thinking. She knew him well.
Samheed looked down, abashed. He was well aware that he tended to leap to anger and suspicion, though now he was much better at controlling it than when he’d been a teenager. Back then, Lani had been a good foil to his frequent billowing frustrations, so he sometimes looked to her to help him gauge his levels of emotions and see if he was being reasonable. At this moment, Lani didn’t appear troubled at all that Aaron had taken the role of head mage rather than Claire. Samheed’s frown flickered and dissipated. Perhaps he’d just have to get used to this idea, even though the news had not been what he was expecting. It would no doubt grow easier to accept in time. He hoped the loss of Alex would too.
Talk turned to the future and what, if anything, they should do about the Revinir. Thisbe opened her mouth to speak her mind about the situation and her intent to go back as soon as possible. But Crow and Carina and Lani immediately stated that they were relieved to be away from the foreign world. “I’m not eager to return any time soon,” Carina said. The others agreed.
Thisbe closed her mouth and listened, a consternated look on her face. Being back in familiar territory had clearly given some of them new perspectives.
“I’m ready to be home too,” said Fifer. She was exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
“I need my bed for a good long time,” Seth remarked.
“And then,” said Fifer with a yawn, “once we’re rested, I think we need to have a celebration.”
Thisbe’s eyes widened. She couldn’t stay silent any longer. “What?” she exclaimed. “Celebrating what, exactly?”
“A masquerade ball,” Fifer said decisively. “To celebrate our return! Like what the grown-ups did when they came back from their adventure. Only we’ll do it with costumes, too.”
Thisbe’s lips parted in confusion. “A . . . a ball?” Had they all forgotten that Alex had died on this mission? A celebration seemed terribly out of place. And a waste of precious time. They needed to prepare to fight the Revinir!
As several of the others voiced their exhaustion from traveling and fighting and their interest in Fifer’s idea, Sky remained silent next to Thisbe. The two exchanged a bemused glance, as both were aghast at the thought of celebrating at a time like this. Neither of them felt like having a party, for a multitude of reasons. The mere fact that Fifer had suggested such a thing felt like a huge betrayal to Thisbe after how she’d said so valiantly just recently that she would go back to the land of the dragons with Thisbe to help rescue her people. Their people.
Thisbe’s scales caught the firelight. She folded her arms over her chest and pressed her mouth firmly in a determined line. The others would come to their senses after a good night’s sleep back in Artimé, and then they’d all be back to planning the next move against the Revinir. At least Thisbe hoped so.
Feeling hurt and outnumbered, Thisbe and Sky didn’t voice their disagreement. Not now. But there was no doubt in Thisbe’s mind that she would be returning to Rohan and to Maiven Taveer. To rescue Dev, if he was still alive, and the other black-eyed slaves. To end the spell that, according to Aaron’s account, seemed to have affected many hundreds of dragons from worlds away. It was the same spell that affected Thisbe and would continue to plague her until she found a way to stop it. It would be her life’s goal. It had to be. She couldn’t live like this, never knowing when the next roar would strike. Her scales quivered at the thought.
Not to mention her people needed her. And she needed them, too.
Certainly the Revinir knew Thisbe was hiding out somewhere. Once the dragon-woman had control of all of the land of the dragons, what would stop her from venturing here to look for her?
Had everyone forgotten about these things? Had they lost their minds? A costume ball?
Thisbe noticed Ibrahim and Clementi weren’t exactly cheering the idea either. Instead they were throwing concerned glances her way. Thisbe smiled grimly at them. She didn’t know them very well—they’d been newly declared Unwanted and were still finding their way around Artimé when Thisbe, Fifer, and Seth had originally snuck away on their first quest to save the young dragon captives. But they’d listened in horror to Thisbe’s passionate tale, and they seemed to understand the reason behind her strained silence. Maybe it was because they’d so recently been through that scary time in Quill and sent away from everything that had been familiar. Or perhaps they were a little bit disappointed to turn back from the mission they’d been excited to join. Whatever their reasons, they tapped their chests lightly to indicate they were with Thisbe. Their dedication made Thisbe sit up a little taller. It was nice to have people on her side.
And Sky was with Thisbe too, of course. She squeezed Thisbe’s hand, and her face was as troubled as the girl’s. Even Samheed shot a curious look at Thisbe to see what her reaction was to the conversation. Her favorite instructor seemed to understand something wasn’t quite right about this.
Their support was affirming. They’d figure out how to deal with this problem once they got home. Even Thisbe needed a little bit of comfort before steeling herself for the next journey.
Eventually the party planning tapered off. Exhaustion overtook the group, and one by one they drifted off to sleep on the sandy beach.
• • •
The next day Sky and Crow bade their mother good-bye. Soon the entire entourage was on their way home to Artimé, riding on the most unusual assortment of creatures: one dark purple dragon, one stone cheetah, one whale with a spike, and dozens of falcons carrying a hammock. It was quite a picture.
Thisbe didn’t like heights, and she hated birds, so she rode with Sky on Spike Furious. Most of the ride she brooded from her spot on the whale’s broad forehead, her arms and legs partially encircling the bony spike and her cheek resting against it as she watched for her home island to grow larger. Occasional bursts of ocean spray kept her awake, and the wind sliced through her hair. Sky held on to the spike from the other side. The three led the way, with the dragon and cheetah and falcons following by air. Sensing Thisbe’s mood, Sky rode silently too, thinking about everything that had led them to this moment and how the two had grown so much closer through their despair and grief over Alex’s death. There was an air of melancholy with both of them, despite being reunited with the others and each other.
“Are you okay?” Sky asked Thisbe when Artimé was large in front of them and Spike began to slow down.
“Not really,” said Thisbe, turning to study her. “Are you?”
Sky was quiet for a long moment, then shook her
head. “No.” She choked back an unexpected sob, and tears mingled with the sea spray on her cheeks. Her heart was broken, and her bones ached. Nothing would ever feel okay again.
By nightfall the group made it to shore and were home at last. Fifer climbed out of the hammock and onto Artimé’s lawn. She was feeling very strange, and a bit like a hero, though there were few to welcome her at this late hour. She’d become an important leader in her time away and was beginning to wonder what leadership in Artimé would look like now that she was home. It was a grown-up feeling she’d never experienced before on this island, and she liked it. Perhaps now people would forget that she used to be a dangerous child and put their trust in her. Look to her for advice.
Before going inside the mansion, she turned to find Simber so she could check in with him as she usually did before going to sleep. But instead of reporting to her like he’d done since Alex had died, he was talking quietly with Aaron. Fifer almost called out to Simber, but then she realized the two were talking about leadership things and plans for the next day. Her lips parted, and a cold feeling rose in her chest. She took a few uncertain steps toward them, but Aaron and Simber didn’t notice her. After a moment, unsure what to do, Fifer dropped her gaze and glanced around self-consciously. She spied Sky and Thisbe walking arm in arm, Thisbe’s scales shimmering like tiny stars in the moonlight. With a sigh, Fifer followed them into the mansion.
The twins moved about their apartment without talking. Fifer was weary and didn’t feel like sharing her confusing thoughts. What had happened felt bad. And embarrassing, too—she’d apparently been demoted and replaced without a word from anyone. Obviously she’d expected the head mage to take over once they returned home, but she’d thought she’d at least have some sort of transition time or be kept in the loop now that she’d proven herself. Or, at the very least, thanked for getting everyone home safely. But there’d been none of that. It wasn’t something she wanted to bring attention to. She didn’t think her sister would understand, anyway . . . or care. Thisbe had been brooding and verging on quarrelsome since Fifer first mentioned wanting to have a celebration. Feeling miserable, Fifer crawled into bed and faced the wall.
As for Thisbe, the comforts of home were a welcome sight. But her mind whirred, and she wore a grim expression, growing more determined than ever to put a stop to the Revinir and her roaring spell and return the land of the dragons to its rightful rulers. It was going to take a miracle, and Thisbe had no idea how she would succeed, especially now that Fifer and Seth were being less than enthusiastic about helping. But she feared this war wasn’t even close to being over. No one, no matter where they lived, was safe.
An Uneasy Feeling
Weeks passed. Aaron tried to dodge Frieda Stubbs and the dissenters, while Thisbe and Fifer wrestled with their individual issues and rarely saw eye to eye when they tried to talk. Thisbe desperately wanted everyone to work toward going back to the land of the dragons to fight the Revinir and save her fellow black-eyed slaves. But Fifer wasn’t enthused about it. She didn’t want to admit that her apparent demotion made her feel out of sorts and even less motivated to go on another quest, but that was the truth of it. What else was she supposed to be in charge of now but the costume ball?
Besides, Fifer thought that Thisbe needed to lighten up. Sure, Thisbe was part dragon now and had a special attachment to the land of the dragons that Fifer wasn’t feeling. But the Artiméans had been through a lot, and they needed a break. She wanted Thisbe to slow down and let everyone recover after the harrowing months they’d endured.
Frustrated, Thisbe gave up arguing. She spent her days working with Florence, the Magical Warrior trainer, so she could finally learn the traditional magic of Artimé and earn her component vest. She wanted the vest for the layer of protection it offered, but mostly she craved access to the important magical components she would need on her return to Grimere. She couldn’t go back without them. True, the magic might not work on the Revinir, who was half dragon now, so Thisbe was also thinking about how to take her down in other ways. But Artimé’s magic would work on the awful soldiers who willingly served the dragon-woman. And she might learn something in her training with Florence that could help the slaves escape, which would be better than nothing.
While Thisbe doggedly worked to catch up to her sister’s mage level, Fifer and Seth planned the extravaganza for all of Artimé. They determined it should be held on the upcoming Day of Remembrance, which was also known to the Unwanteds as the annual day of the purge, when the Unwanteds were sent out of Quill. It was a time when many people of Artimé celebrated their birthdays, especially if their official birth date had never been noted.
Ibrahim and Clementi would be turning fourteen. Seth, who’d been born in Artimé and had an official birthday, would be fourteen soon after the costume ball, so he’d be celebrating early. And Thisbe and Fifer, who’d been born in Quill and didn’t have a specific birth date that anyone had made note of, would be marking their thirteenth birthdays at long last. Thirteen was a special year for most children in Artimé, because it signaled the start of their magical-warrior training and working toward getting the coveted component vest.
Fifer had already secretly trained with Florence before the rescue mission and had been given her component vest and access to all the magical components. That was why Thisbe had some catching up to do. She was determined to learn everything possible in the least amount of time. Plus she continued to work on her natural fire-based magic, going to the jungle or the lagoon in the evenings by herself to find secluded boulders and dead trees and sandbars to blow up.
That left little opportunity for her to get together with Sky and her new allies, Ibrahim and Clementi, who seemed unwavering in their intent to help her. But it was critical that Thisbe take the time to do some brainstorming with them about what would actually work against the Revinir. Once the costume party was over and Thisbe had completed her magical-warrior training, they’d all have more time to figure things out.
Even when Thisbe wasn’t preoccupied with determining how to defeat impossibly powerful enemies, she didn’t find joy in parties. The music was often too loud, and there were so many people around all talking at once until the noise level became overwhelming. It was exhausting. And she still didn’t think Fifer’s costume extravaganza was appropriate after all the difficulties and grief they’d gone through. It felt wrong to celebrate like this after Alex’s horrible death. Besides, no one knew what had happened to Dev. Was he even alive?
But Aaron, who seemed uncomfortable in his role as head mage, had mentioned to Thisbe that he thought the party was a good way to “unite the island and go forward together,” despite the new situation. Thisbe was learning that this way of speaking was code for the dissenters being disruptive and harshly critical of him—which she’d witnessed firsthand since they’d returned home. Frankly, this group of people who had come out of nowhere seemed horrible.
The dissenters didn’t act particularly enthusiastic to see Thisbe and Fifer home again either—they hadn’t forgotten that the twin girls used to be a menace to the people of Artimé, and often threw suspicious glances their way. Thisbe wanted her brother to succeed, so she didn’t confront any of them, even when they seemed to be talking about her and Fifer behind their backs. Instead she found herself taking out her annoyances on Fifer. The two argued more than either wanted to. But they couldn’t seem to stop. Things were tense in the room they shared.
The unpredictable, paralyzing roars from the Revinir didn’t help and only confirmed that the Revinir was still trying to get Thisbe and Drock to obey. The call kept Thisbe even more motivated to improve her power and abilities, so she could fight against the Revinir. It was so disheartening that those roars could affect her from this distance. There was no escaping it. Fifer was sympathetic at first, but Thisbe often dropped to the floor and writhed around at inopportune times. Knowing Thisbe would come out of it eventually, Fifer’s level of concern for her sister’s episodes
lessened.
Nobody else but Drock could hear that frightful noise, and it shook both him and Thisbe. “This nightmare is far from over,” Drock said one day, staring worriedly to the west.
“Is she coming?” asked Thisbe. She checked her scales, which were lying flat on her arms and legs.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe it’s not us she’s after.”
Drock closed his eyes. “Perhaps.” But neither believed it.
Drock, being the only dragon left in the seven islands, stayed close to Artimé rather than spend his time by himself at the island of dragons. Without the support of his family, Drock was lonely, and he struggled more and more to ignore the Revinir’s call. It seemed to be getting stronger every time, or at least it felt that way. The only thing he had going for him was that it didn’t leave him completely debilitated, as happened with Thisbe. On top of the physical repercussions, the roar reminded Thisbe that the awful monster-woman was alive and well and in control of hundreds of dragons and a number of black-eyed children.
There was something about the roar that made Thisbe miss Rohan. He’d been nearby to help her through it the first few times. And he’d been so gentle about it, unlike Fifer, who seemed increasingly annoyed every time it happened. It was almost like Fifer was beginning to resent that Thisbe had this affliction. Once, when it happened during one of Fifer’s costume-ball planning sessions, Fifer got really frustrated at Thisbe. “I’m starting to get tired of this drama,” she muttered, as if Thisbe were exaggerating the effects.
“I’m not making it up,” Thisbe said when she could speak.
Fifer frowned. “I know.” After a minute she added, “Sorry. I was just in the middle of something.”
Fifer hurried away but questioned herself about why she was so annoyed by Thisbe and her dragon issues. Was it because of the bond Thisbe had with that land now? She had such a sense of purpose. Fifer was a little bit torn about which land she was supposed to be loyal to. Of course she felt strongly about Artimé, but that had lessened slightly after she’d been cast unceremoniously out of leadership—what would happen once the ball was over and she lost all of her responsibilities? But Fifer definitely didn’t feel strongly about the land of the dragons after her unhappy experiences there. And it didn’t seem fair that Thisbe did. She cared so deeply about people Fifer barely knew! Maybe that was the heart of what was causing her so much internal turmoil. Their lives, once inseparably intertwined, had unraveled and gone in different directions. Fate had forced them apart, and Thisbe had changed drastically from it, while Fifer felt much the same as before.