by Lisa McMann
“Me too.” Fifer pushed the two pieces of Florence’s head together, being careful not to pinch any grass in between them. She found smaller pieces of her head ornament and laid them in the places they needed to go. Florence’s arms and legs were all broken into multiple pieces. The quiver was miraculously in one piece, though the bow was hard to find, and the arrows were scattered about. The quiver was way too heavy for Fifer to lift alone. She peered inside and saw the spare robe tucked down inside, unharmed.
The two dragons didn’t seem to have any problem with Florence now that she was broken into pieces and not moving. But what would they do if Fifer was able to bring her back to life? Would they attack her all over again? They’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it. But for now, there was no bringing her back to life if Fifer couldn’t figure out how to make all the pieces come back together.
“Oh, Thisbe,” Fifer moaned as she trudged through the overgrowth carrying a hunk of Florence’s arm, “I really hope things are going better for you than they are for me.”
Just then Dev emerged from the palace empty-handed. Fifer looked up expectantly, then deflated when she saw he hadn’t found the supplies. “No luck?” Fifer asked him.
“I think I found the bag,” Dev said, “but I can’t reach it. There’s a rope that wasn’t there before hanging down through the hole. It’s going to take a bit of work to get to it. But it’s something.”
At least there was that. “Good,” said Fifer, glad that one thing was sort of going right. “Now, can you help me carry Florence’s bum over to the right place?”
Making Big Plans
After Thisbe had torched the send spell she’d written, she scrambled for an excuse to give Zel. “Oh, I didn’t actually write any words,” she explained, trying to sound scientific and boring. “I was just testing my magical… flint… pencil. And it works great. Now I can quickly make a fire in the apartment fireplace tonight.”
It was a terrible excuse—Thisbe could make a fire quickly enough without needing flint, but Zel didn’t know that. In the end, it had been enough to calm Zel’s alarm and throw off the mind-controlled servant’s concerns. Unfortunately, knowing how closely Zel would be watching her now, Thisbe was too paranoid to try to send anything again. She imagined what could have happened if someone had intercepted what she’d written. Thankfully, Zel hadn’t had a chance to read it.
* * *
Later Thisbe returned to the ballroom to meet with the Revinir, ready to nail down some details of their new partnership and solidify in the Revinir’s mind that she was truly on board with this plan. Getting the dragon-woman to trust her as much as possible was one of the most important goals Thisbe had. Perhaps she could lure her outside for a walk on the lawn without her entourage. Or somehow get her alone in a spot where no one else could be hurt if Thisbe used the obliterate spell on her.
The Revinir turned when Thisbe entered, then invited her to step out on the balcony with her to overlook the castle grounds. The ballroom balcony faced the back side of the property opposite the drawbridge and long driveway, so there was no hustle and bustle, only a few guards patrolling the hills. From this height Thisbe could see the city of Grimere off to the right, with a big open square not far from the forest. “What do you expect will change when we are co-rulers?” Thisbe asked, trying to sound casual.
“I thought you wanted to think it through,” the Revinir said sarcastically.
“I’d like to know what to expect so that I can make my decision,” said Thisbe. “You’ve had all sorts of time to envision it, but I haven’t. What’s in it for me?”
The Revinir shot Thisbe an approving glance. She continued to be surprised by the girl and appreciated her selfishness. To her, it was a sign of a good business partner. But she hadn’t seen this side of Thisbe before, so it was a bit suspect. Perhaps this was the true Thisbe coming out—her evil side—which she hadn’t allowed to show before. If so, this was going to be a great situation.
But the Revinir still had doubts, mainly because she couldn’t read Thisbe the way she could read all the other black-eyed children. Which made Thisbe even more of a delightful challenge, despite the suspicions that came with it. Thisbe was complex, like the Revinir. And the dragon-woman was cautiously optimistic that things would work out for the betterment of herself and her land. After all, it wasn’t called the land of the black-eyed rulers, now, was it? But that was a step that would come later. She needed Thisbe to think she’d be a full partner in order to announce their agreement, take official leadership, release the dragons from their mind control, and send the ghost dragons to their next life. Once that happened, the Revinir could slowly push Thisbe out. Or maybe even lock her up in the dungeon and conveniently forget about her.
And while she needed at least a few of the black-eyed slaves as backup in case something happened to Thisbe, she didn’t need them all. Especially Fifer. Now that Thisbe was here and things were looking promising, she didn’t want Fifer showing up and wrecking it all.
The Revinir frowned. Fifer hadn’t come after Thisbe. Was that bad? Or good? She hadn’t sent any notes like Rohan had done. The Revinir turned sharply, ignoring Thisbe’s question. “Why hasn’t your sister tried to contact you with your little magical messages?”
“Because she doesn’t have any,” said Thisbe. “You emptied our pockets on the ride over, remember? That was right before you dumped us through a roof. That wasn’t very nice, by the way.”
“True,” said the Revinir. “You seem all right, though.”
“I was lucky.”
“What about Fifer?” asked the Revinir, looking sharply into Thisbe’s eyes.
Thisbe wasn’t sure what the Revinir wanted to hear, but she went with her gut instinct, which seemed to be present whenever she was dealing with the dragon-woman. “She was hurt. But she’ll live.”
“Oh?” The Revinir turned away, hiding her expression. “How so?”
“She broke her wrist,” said Thisbe truthfully, then embellished it. “And her ankle. She’s not very mobile, but I made sure she could crawl to the river before I left her there alone.”
“The dragons will feed her if she gets desperate,” said the Revinir. “I instructed them to make sure you two didn’t die.”
“That was kind of you,” said Thisbe, trying not to let her words drip with the sarcasm she felt. “It might have been nice to know.”
“I couldn’t let you think I had a soft heart,” said the Revinir, and then she laughed. “Because I don’t. I just needed you.”
“I’m well aware of that,” said Thisbe icily. “But as I said before, this partnership will be equal, or else I’m not participating. I fear that will be hard for you after the way you’ve treated me. And that’s why I wanted a few extra days to see how you handle it.”
“I’m treating you fine!” the Revinir said, growing indignant. “What more do you want?”
“I want it to continue,” said Thisbe, lifting her chin.
The Revinir averted her eyes. “It will.”
Thisbe noticed. She crossed her arms. “You didn’t answer my question. What do you expect will change if we join together?”
“You said ‘when’ before! Not ‘if.’ ”
Thisbe hid a smirk. This was all going too well. Could it possibly continue? “When, then,” said Thisbe amicably. “How do you envision it will all go down? I haven’t heard the rules or history behind this type of rulership before.”
“We just have to go together to publicly announce that we have agreed to co-lead the land of the dragons and restore the world to the way it was before the king and his people took over. One dragon and one black-eyed ruler. Then the ghost dragons will move on to their next lives, and the current dragons will be in power with me leading them.”
“And the black-eyed rulers also leading,” Thisbe said.
“Right. Obviously.”
“Which means you’ll stop enslaving them.”
“Sure. I’ll enslave o
ther people instead.”
“Um, no you won’t.”
“Whatever,” said the Revinir impatiently. “I see no harm in putting the king’s army to work. They never supported me.”
“Us, you mean.”
“Of course, us!” Fire shot from the Revinir’s mouth, and Thisbe had to duck to avoid being singed.
“Watch it!” Thisbe warned, feeling her eyes spark and heat build in her throat.
“I’m sorry!” said the Revinir, not sounding sorry. She turned and went back into the ballroom, stomping as she went, which made the floor shake.
Thisbe touched the obliterate component box through her vest. It was so tempting. But if she used it now, she’d definitely die right along with the Revinir—either from the blast or from the balcony crumbling and a big chunk of the castle being obliterated with her.
“Let’s take a walk outside,” Thisbe suggested.
The Revinir frowned. “Why?”
Thisbe shrugged. “Because it’s beautiful out there.”
“Go take a walk with Zel. I don’t like to be exposed. I prefer walls. To be honest, I miss being in the catacombs.”
Thisbe’s heart sank. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. “I think part of this process has to be showing the people of Grimere that we are unified. We should be seen together so they get used to the idea.”
The Revinir turned to Thisbe. “You don’t seem to understand that I don’t care about them.”
Thisbe held back an exasperated sigh. “Of course. I keep forgetting.”
“But you asked what’s in it for you. Power. You get to live here. And not be a slave.”
“Generous,” said Thisbe. “But you know that’s not what I care about.”
The Revinir moved slowly to the expanse of windows and looked out to the east at the gorge and the mist beyond it that hid the land of the seven islands from view. “And you can be assured that I won’t make the promise you’re looking for.”
Thisbe was quiet for a moment, dissecting every word the Revinir had just said. Was that a flat no? It seemed… intentionally vague. Which, in Thisbe’s mind, left the door open for the promise she wanted. Because just in case Thisbe wasn’t able to do away with the Revinir, she needed to be assured that her allies to the east wouldn’t be put in jeopardy. “All right,” said Thisbe carefully. “I’ll wait until you change your mind.”
In the Cavelands
The shock of what Thisbe had done was starting to wear off, but the pain of betrayal was increasing for Rohan. Charged with nothing to do but wait for news upon Florence’s return, he tried to keep busy. Sky was compassionate, and the two ended up fishing together most of the morning. Maiven and Simber kept an eye on him too. And while there had been talk of a castle flyby on a ghost dragon, they wouldn’t do it until darkness fell. Simber wanted to put off those plans until Florence was back with information that could potentially give them insight, so the longer Florence was gone, the lower the chance of tonight being the night to make a move.
It was excruciating, really. Whenever Rohan allowed himself to think about it, he felt sharp stabs of pain like shards of glass raking through him. As the day progressed, he began to scan the sky to the south, looking for Astrid and Florence, until he could hardly do anything else.
Seth tried to help Rohan too, but to be honest, he was almost as out of sorts as Rohan. Thisbe had been one of his dearest friends since they were young, and he just couldn’t see her doing anything like this. Out of everyone, Seth felt most like something else had to be going on that none of them could understand quite yet. Maybe he believed that because it gave him comfort or lessened the pain. Or maybe it was because he’d witnessed firsthand how the twins worked when their backs were up against the wall.
But inevitably, whispers about the levels of good and evil in a person began in earnest. Was there something to it? And was evilness genetic? Aaron kept to himself once he started hearing speculation from others about the very thing he’d been thinking about. He knew that what Thisbe had done wasn’t his fault. Yet he caught the glances, like always. His past followed him everywhere. There was no escaping it, and he accepted that he’d done something worthy of an infinite number of apologies. That was part of his punishment, in his eyes. There would never be a time when he’d be done apologizing… at least not as long as these people were alive. Maybe one day, when he was Ishibashi’s age and all the people surrounding him were new, he would be able to escape judgment. Believing he might be immortal because of the seaweed that Ishibashi, Ito, and Sato had given him to save his life years ago, Aaron was forced to think about that, as well. What was worse than living a life full of apologies? Watching everyone you loved die and never getting to do so yourself.
A mood settled around him, bringing him way down. Not even Ishibashi could give him something good to ponder. Everyone was feeling it as they waited for Florence to return with something—anything—to soothe their worries. And Aaron had an increasingly bad feeling that what Florence was about to tell them wouldn’t be good.
When a dot appeared in the sky, the anticipation increased. When they realized Astrid was riderless, they were struck with fear. Was Florence okay? She had to be, Simber assured them. They began to speculate: Had Florence been able to land and see what was going on? Were the dragons as docile as they’d all hoped? Was she staying indefinitely?
But then doubts crept in. Why hadn’t she sent a message telling them what was up? Would she really delay the conversation half a day by sending a message with a forgetful ghost dragon?
As the speculation turned dark, Aaron found Simber, and the two waited together, beginning to fear the worst. “This isn’t good,” Aaron said.
“Something isn’t rrright,” Simber said.
Finally Astrid landed. It took some coaxing to help her remember why she wasn’t carrying a rider. But then she did.
“The red dragons attacked us,” Astrid recalled. “Florence slayed two of them. But the other two fought and dragged her off my back, and she fell a long distance to the ground. She broke into a thousand pieces. Maybe a million. She’s dead.”
Simber gasped. Aaron, Maiven, Rohan, and the rest stared in disbelief. Florence dead? It couldn’t be possible! But imagining the warrior trainer falling from a great height was stomach-churning. Everyone began talking at once.
“She’s not dead,” said Aaron firmly, above the noise. “I know how to fix her.”
“You’rrre not going therrre,” said Simber. “It isn’t safe.”
“Fifer can fix her, then. Why hasn’t she contacted us? Didn’t Florence drop the supplies?” He pulled out a send component and started writing.
“She dropped them as the dragons attacked,” Astrid recalled. “I don’t think they hit their target, though.”
“I’m sending instructions now,” said Aaron. “Good grief—I hope Fifer knows about the time we brought you back from a pile of sand, Sim.”
“She knows,” said Seth. “We’ve read all the books. She’ll think of it.” He was still horrified at the image of Florence breaking into a million pieces. How would Fifer put her back together? It would take forever! He hoped Astrid was exaggerating or remembering it wrong.
Meanwhile Rohan was getting anxious. Surely they weren’t going to wait for Florence any longer in order to do a stealthy castle flyby. They needed to go now so they could travel both ways under the cover of darkness.
Once Aaron sent his message to Fifer and things settled down, Rohan spoke to Maiven. “I’d like to take a ghost dragon to the castle. Will you let me? Please, Grandmum… we have to do something.”
Maiven nodded. “Oh yes, we do,” she said. She didn’t like waiting any more than anyone else. She called to Quince, who was camped nearby, and asked if he felt up to a nighttime mission. The ghost dragon was eager to help.
Rohan ran to grab his rucksack and canteen. But before he returned to the dragon, he stopped to rummage through a small suitcase that the black-eyed childre
n kept their extra things in and pulled out a few supplies. Then he went to Quince and climbed aboard.
Maiven followed, grasping the dragon’s bony wings and climbing up after him.
“What are you doing?” Rohan asked.
The queen looked up. “It’s my castle,” she said. “I’m going with you.” She turned to Simber and Aaron. “We’ll be back by daylight. Hopefully with answers.”
Sticks and Stones
Try as they might, Fifer and Dev couldn’t budge Florence’s left leg. It was mostly intact and had broken off at mid-thigh, which was great. But now that they had assembled the rest of the body puzzle fairly well, they didn’t want to have to move everything all again over to where the leg was.
Fifer, sweating and breathing hard from the exertion, stood up straight to ease the strain on her back and took a moment to survey the situation and think about what to do. “It’s not going to happen. We’ll have to leave it here. When I bring Florence back to life, I’ll have her scoot down to the leg so we can reattach it then.”
“Won’t that hurt her?” said Dev. “Wow, she is huge.” He wiped his temples with the sleeve of the new shirt he’d found—a cool white linen blouse with a pattern of pale lavender flowers. While the burns on his back had healed enough to wear something over them, the work they’d been doing had broken the delicate skin in a few places, and small red splotches of blood stained a couple of spots between the flowers. He looked around, and the dead dragon nearby caught his eye. He gazed thoughtfully at it.
“I don’t think moving will hurt her,” said Fifer. “She had her legs lopped off one time before when she was alive and it didn’t faze her.” She pulled out and reread the message Aaron had sent her about how to bring Florence back to life. It was a relief to know that Astrid had made it safely back to the Artiméans and had remembered enough to tell them what was going on.
Aaron’s instructions on how he’d brought Simber back to life when he’d been a pile of sand didn’t quite match the situation with Florence, who was in chunks. But Fifer was the head mage of Artimé, and she’d find a way to adapt the spell. She didn’t want to send a reply to Aaron yet, though, because when she did, the instructions he’d written would go with it. She needed to memorize them. But now that Florence’s pieces were almost all reassembled on the lawn, she and Dev needed a break. “Let’s catch some fish. I haven’t eaten all day.”