by Lisa McMann
—Frieda Stubbs, Head Mage of Artimé
Florence closed her eyes as a wave of defeat and depression washed over her. This was going to be a long road. And she wasn’t sure she was up for the challenge.
Feeling Lost
Sky sat at the fire on the shore of the Island of Legends with Aaron, Fifer, Ibrahim, and Clementi. Lhasa lounged behind them silently, inches above the ground, wanting to be supportive and respectful of their problems. Soon Talon flew down from his lookout on the top of the tallest tree in the middle of the forest, near Vido the golden rooster, to give them an update.
“The Revinir has turned back,” Talon said.
Aaron, who’d told everyone by now what Thisbe and Drock had done, looked up with a mixture of fear and relief on his face. “Really? Are you sure? The plan succeeded?”
“Yes. Thisbe and Drock met them. They stayed still for a while. Then the entire group turned around and began heading back toward the gorge.”
“Amazing.” Aaron dropped his head heavily into his hands. “I hope Thisbe’s okay. I fear . . .” He still wasn’t convinced that this was the best thing to do. They’d lost Thisbe once—had they just lost her again? Time would tell if the sacrifice had been worth it. “At least Artimé is safe for now.”
Fifer was glad the Revinir had turned back, but she was also hurt. Thisbe had gone off without her while she’d been sleeping—she hadn’t mentioned one word about it, or even woken her up to say good-bye. It seemed typical of late, but that didn’t make it sting any less. The twins used to go everywhere together, and Fifer couldn’t help but think about that. Obviously, Fifer, like everyone else, hoped Thisbe would be okay. But she couldn’t push the hurt feelings away, especially when she found out that Aaron had learned about Thisbe’s plan. Did Thisbe trust him over her now? Had he become her number one ally? Was Fifer’s importance in the family dwindling too?
“I don’t think the Revinir will hurt Thisbe,” said Clementi. “That wouldn’t make sense. Thisbe wasn’t being a threat to her, and why would she come all the way out here just to put an end to someone who wasn’t bothering her? I think Thisbe’s plan is genius. I wish I’d thought of it.”
Fifer wrinkled her nose.
“It was definitely smart,” Ibrahim said to Clementi. “But dangerous. The Revinir wants to use her to further her purposes in Grimere. I just hope Thisbe doesn’t have to do anything too horrible before she sees a way for us to come and help.”
“I also hope Drock is okay,” Aaron said. “Let’s not forget he made a big sacrifice too.”
Everyone nodded. It was easier to think Drock could hold his own against a dragon-woman than Thisbe could, so they weren’t quite as worried about him.
“Thisbe is very powerful,” Sky reminded everyone, including herself. “Especially now that she has Artimé’s magic components and has been trained—it’ll be an entirely different situation for her than before. She’ll fight back if and when she needs to. I was shocked to hear what she did, but after thinking about it, I believe it was the smartest and most generous thing any of us could have done. She saved us.”
Fifer remained silent and frowning. She glanced back at Artimé and could make out Simber flying over the sea, no doubt realizing that the Revinir was retreating. All thanks to Thisbe. “I miss Simber,” she said with a sigh. “I hope Frieda Stubbs isn’t being too horrible to him.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Aaron gruffly. He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. But at least here on Karkinos, Aaron had fewer distractions and more time to develop magic that would be potent against the Revinir while they waited for Thisbe to summon them. “Let’s hope that now that some of the pressure’s off, we’ll be able to create some effective magic. This is far from over.”
“I’m worried about Thisbe,” Ibrahim said. “I wish we’d known what she was doing so we could have loaded her up with extra components.”
“Her pockets were full,” Aaron told them. “She left her vest here, though, because she knew the Revinir would recognize what it was and confiscate it.”
“That was smart,” Fifer admitted. At least Thisbe was making good decisions.
“Wouldn’t it be great if Thisbe could actually figure out how to break the Revinir’s spell?” said Sky. “I wonder if she can somehow reach your other black-eyed friend—what’s his name again?”
“Dev,” said Fifer. “I doubt it. He wouldn’t listen to me.”
“But those two worked so closely in the catacombs,” said Sky. “Maybe he’ll recognize her and listen.”
“I worked closely with him too,” said Fifer, a bit stiffly.
Sky glanced at Fifer. “Oh, that’s right,” she said apologetically. “I forgot that part of your story. So much has happened.”
Fifer softened. “It’s okay. I hope Thisbe can do something to snap Dev out of it too. I just . . . I doubt it.” She sniffed, wanting desperately to stop talking about how amazing Thisbe was and feeling bad at the same time for it. “By the way, how are we supposed to go help Thisbe when she gets around to calling for us? We don’t have any dragons left to fly us.”
Aaron looked up. “I assumed we’d take Spike and Simber and your birds to the Island of Fire and travel through the volcanos.”
“Oh,” said Fifer. “That makes sense, I guess.” She hesitated, feeling weird about everything. “Well, let’s get back to work, then. Are we, uh . . . What are we doing, exactly? Should we go back to Artimé now that the threat is gone?”
Aaron and Sky exchanged a glance, then looked at Talon, who’d been there most recently. “What do you think?” Aaron asked him.
“From the mood of the mansion last night,” said Talon, “none of the Stowes are safe there anymore. The line has been drawn. As for the others, by coming here and declaring your loyalty to the Stowes, I’m afraid you are on the wrong side of that line.”
A Blank Stare
Thisbe’s heart sank at the sight of Rohan. His face was expressionless, and his eyes were dead and completely void of the mirth and compassion that used to be there. Clearly he was under the Revinir’s control. But how had this happened? How had the Revinir gotten to him? The last thing Thisbe knew was that Rohan and Maiven Taveer had found her family’s abandoned house in Grimere and were going to use it as their secret headquarters to figure out how to fight the Revinir. Apparently some part of their plan had gone terribly wrong.
Had the Revinir forced Rohan to drink the dragon-bone broth? She must have, or he wouldn’t be acting like this. Thisbe didn’t dare risk another cursory glance at the other dragons around them to see if Maiven was one of those riders, but when the group of dragons shifted leader positions, Thisbe saw that the old woman wasn’t anywhere among them.
Dev wasn’t there either. Fear sliced through Thisbe—had he been one of the soldiers to fall to his death in the palace battle? What else could it mean that he wasn’t here, when there were six or seven other black-eyed soldiers present? Didn’t the Revinir keep them all close now, like she’d done in the castle back when it was on fire and the ghost dragons were circling? Thisbe ached to move, but she didn’t do it. She had to stare forward like the others, or the Revinir might notice. Even if the dragon-woman couldn’t see Thisbe, the girl was sure she could feel the slightest movement on her back that could give her away. But it was hard to remain like this when everything was so horrible. She hadn’t expected to see Rohan anywhere near this operation. In fact, she’d thought that Maiven’s house could be a good refuge for her when it came time to get away. Numbly she kept her position and continued acting like the others.
As they traveled, Thisbe barely registered the height to which the Revinir rose above the water, so she forgot to be afraid of it. Instead her head spun with questions that might never be answered. Would she be able to communicate with the others when they were so deeply controlled? If she did try to talk to them, would they report that to the Revinir? Was there any way for her to talk to Rohan, and would he even know who she was
? Would he remember their time together? Would he be the same as before in any way? The fear of Rohan not knowing her was making Thisbe feel sick to her stomach. She wasn’t sure how she’d handle it.
And where was Dev? Where was Maiven? What had happened? All these unanswered questions were about to kill her.
As they flew over Warbler, the Revinir ordered three of her dragons to fly low and pepper her old island with a spray of fiery breath, lighting up trees and the shipyard and sending people running and diving for the underground tunnels there. Appalled by the cowardly act, Thisbe tried not to react, but again, it was hard. Sky’s mother was the ruler there, and Thisbe knew others on that island too, like her friend Phoenix, who worked as Copper’s assistant. They could be hurt! Thisbe hoped they were safe.
Thankfully, the Revinir urged everyone to continue on after that. Things went along more quietly in the hours before they passed by the Island of Fire. Thisbe thought she saw a big flash of white and blue in the sea and wondered if it was Spike Furious twisting in the water. It made her heart ache. She was leaving all of her friends and family behind again. But that wasn’t even the hardest part. It was more the fact that the place she was headed was in such turmoil. And the people she was going back to—and with—were compromised.
Thisbe’s heart kept sinking as she thought about what would come next. How was she supposed to break this blasted Revinir mind control spell and free her people? Especially without Rohan’s assistance. He was the one who’d so nobly stayed back to help save his people. Thisbe wanted to carry through with that plan, but she hadn’t expected to do it alone. Was it possible that she could find Maiven? That question led to another: Would Thisbe be free to roam in Grimere now that the Revinir was in charge and she was supposedly under her mind control? Or would she be confined to the castle or stationed as a soldier somewhere? She wondered how hard it would be to move around and do what she needed to do to find Maiven. Whatever the situation was now, Thisbe knew that things would be different from last time . . . she just wasn’t sure how.
Exhausted from being up all night, Thisbe kept nodding off, but she wasn’t sure how to go about actually sleeping—did the others ever sleep? She hadn’t thought about that part of things before. What if they no longer needed it for some reason? But that sounded absurd. They were still human. Even the Revinir slept sometimes—or at least Thisbe assumed so.
But she didn’t dare lie down. Instead she hung on to the Revinir’s spikes so she wouldn’t accidentally tumble off, and focused on examining the rows and rows of the dragon-woman’s thick scales to see if there was any sign of weakness. Or any sparse spot where Thisbe could send off sparks that would actually penetrate the skin.
Soon Thisbe’s heavy lids closed, and she slumped over, unable to stay awake any longer.
When she woke many hours later, night was falling. All Thisbe could see was water. The gorge wasn’t yet in sight. Once she remembered where she was and what she was doing, she fixed her expression and slowly sat up and faced forward. As she moved, she noticed that a couple of the black-eyed slaves on the other dragons were lying down, and she felt better about having taken a nap. It seemed normal after all. That was a relief—learning how to act was tiring and stressful.
Drock was flying off to Thisbe’s right. Though Thisbe couldn’t see him directly, he seemed to be doing all right and wasn’t making any outbursts or defying the Revinir, so that was good. Thisbe didn’t know any of these other dragons, and she wondered what would happen with them if Thisbe were able to break the Revinir’s spell. They were complacent now, but would they turn on her and attack once they regained control of their minds? Pan and Arabis and the others from their world were safe enough, but these strangers were unpredictable and frightening. This wasn’t just a quest to take the Revinir out of power. It was a quest to restore a world to its rightful ruling body. But what if the rightful ruling dragons no longer wanted to share the land with the black-eyed people? What if they just wanted to tear them to shreds or eat them for dinner?
Everything Thisbe was doing was such a big risk. And she was completely alone, except for Drock, in her attempt to stop a ruler who was more dragon than woman these days. How long could she last against those odds?
As bleak reality set in, Thisbe grew more and more anxious about her situation. She was still glad she’d done it—it had worked, and Artimé was saved. But now what?
More of the black-eyed soldiers lay down on their dragons to rest for the night. Though she wasn’t tired anymore, Thisbe lay down too, placing her head so that she could see Rohan. Perhaps, if she watched him long enough, he’d look her way. Perhaps there would be some recognition in his eyes. Perhaps all of this was just a horrible nightmare, and her dearest, deepest friend wasn’t really under the Revinir’s spell after all. Perhaps.
Darkness consumed them. Thisbe kept her eye on Rohan, though she couldn’t see him very well. When he shifted, she chanced to lift her head and peer at him through the darkness. But his eyes didn’t connect with hers.
A Bad Situation
Claire Morning arrived in Artimé, having come as soon as the Necessary asked her to. Along the way she’d learned from passersby that Artimé’s head mage, Aaron, had handed over his robe to the chief dissenter, Frieda Stubbs. It was hard to believe.
Claire found Florence and Simber on the lawn, arguing in hushed voices. Frieda Stubbs was standing in the doorway of the mansion surrounded by her new fans. A semicircle of protestors calling for Aaron’s return to power was around them.
“What’s happening?” Claire demanded, coming up to Florence and Simber.
Florence turned and saw who it was. “Oh, Claire. Thank goodness you’re here.”
“Samheed sent for me. What’s going on?”
“Frieda Stubbs has taken over as head mage, and everything is bedlam around here.”
“So the rumors are true.” Claire took a breath and blew it out. “And what about the Revinir?”
“She’s retreated, thankfully.”
“Frrrieda is taking crrredit forrr that,” said Simber with disgust.
“She didn’t do anything,” Florence told Claire, and her voice turned worried. “I haven’t had a chance to find out why the Revinir turned back, but I have my guesses.” She didn’t say what it was that she feared.
“Where’s Aaron?” asked Claire.
“On Karrrkinos,” said Simber. “The girrrls arrre therrre too.”
“We think,” muttered Florence, looking out to the west. There was nothing to see but waves and an outline of the island.
“You should have stopped this,” Simber snapped.
Florence narrowed her eyes and stared down her lifelong friend. “There was nothing I could do, and you know it.”
Simber growled low and long, but he didn’t argue further.
In all her years in Artimé, Claire had never seen Florence and Simber disagree so heatedly before. It was unsettling. “What can I do?”
Florence glanced over her shoulder at Frieda Stubbs in the doorway, then back at Claire. “The dissenters wanted you as head mage after Alex died. Perhaps . . . if you’re willing . . . for a little while, at least . . .”
Claire understood. She nodded. “Of course. Temporarily, I mean. Until things get sorted out.”
“It won’t worrrk,” Simber muttered.
“Simber, please,” said Florence, exasperated. “We have to try. And I really don’t need your negativity right now.”
Simber glared at Florence. “My life has changed disastrrrously,” he said. “I’m sorrry you don’t like how I’m rrreacting to that.” He sniffed, then loped toward the back entrance of the mansion without another word.
Florence sighed. “He’s having a terrible time with her.”
Claire nodded. “I’m happy to do anything to cheer Simber up—if he’s not happy, no one is.”
Florence gave a sardonic laugh. “You’ve got that right.” She turned toward the spectacle at the entrance. “Let’s go ta
lk to them. Tell them you’re interested in the job, just like they wanted. I believe they’ll be for it.”
Claire eyed the group, trying to assess the situation. “Do you think the Aaron supporters will object?”
“Not at all,” said Florence. “They’d be very supportive of you too. They just want Stubbs out before she wrecks everything.”
“I see.” Claire straightened her shirt and smoothed her component vest, then let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”
They walked over to where Frieda Stubbs was speaking to her people. “Artimé is safe now,” she was saying loudly. “The Revinir has been banished forever. What Aaron Stowe couldn’t do, I did.” Cheers erupted.
Frieda Stubbs smiled and bowed ever so slightly, as if she were feeling a little bit humbled by the praise, though everyone knew she was anything but humble and was probably doing it for show.
“She must’ve been an acting student,” Claire whispered to Florence.
“Right on,” Florence replied.
Frieda noticed them coming. She froze for a microsecond, then smiled demurely. “Look who it is!” she said. “Has Quill heard about my success already?” She laughed and tried to appear modest. “Word spreads so fast.”
Others turned and seemed pleased to see Claire. They knew her, had been taught by her, and trusted her—Mr. Today’s daughter was the next best thing to the original mage himself. They parted, making a path to Frieda. The Aaron supporters stopped chanting for his return and watched what was happening, looking a bit hopeful to see the woman. Everyone loved Claire Morning. Perhaps she was the solution to all of the unrest in Artimé.