by Lisa McMann
“The lounge. We thought Aaron was with you,” said Seth, wiping a trail of blood from a cut on his forehead. “What happened? Did he do this? Where is he?”
Fifer’s heart sank. She wasn’t prepared to answer that question yet. “I don’t know. Help me find him.” She searched the people exiting the gray shack, shouting, “Aaron! Thisbe!”
“Fifer?” Thisbe called out.
“Thisbe!” cried Fifer. She couldn’t see her twin, but hearing her lifted her heavy heart. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Did you find Aaron?”
“Not yet!” Finding Thisbe was one big worry to cross off the list. The confusion was becoming more manageable. “Aaron!”
“He’s over here!” cried a different voice.
“Ms. Octavia?” said Fifer. She hopped up, trying to see over heads to find the short octogator.
“Yes, it’s me!” said Ms. Octavia. “Aaron’s alive. He can’t speak just yet. We need water right away!”
Fifer hooked the robe she’d pulled from Florence’s quiver over her forearm and reached around her back to make sure she still had her canteen, then started toward them. Ms. Octavia was trying to help Aaron out of one of the windows. He looked weak and was squinting in the afternoon light. Fifer grabbed his legs and assisted in getting him to an open space while Ms. Octavia turned to give Samheed and Clementi a hand. “I’ve got water,” Fifer said breathlessly. She stripped the canteen off her shoulder strap and thrust it at Aaron.
He took it with shaking hands and swallowed some down. When Samheed arrived, Aaron passed it to him. Samheed drank gratefully and handed it off to Clementi when she collapsed next to them.
Fifer looked toward the area where she’d last seen Kaylee and called out to her, then beckoned her to come. Aaron returned Fifer’s empty canteen, and Fifer remembered the extra canteens she’d left in the hammock. She called for her birds, hoping they’d safely flown out the top of the mansion before it turned into the gray shack. As Kaylee arrived and reunited with Aaron and the others, the birds fluttered down with the hammock. Fifer began passing around more water to the ones who needed it.
After a few moments, the last stragglers inside the shack made their way out. With the urgency lessening and things calming down, Fifer could feel her body start to shake again, as if it needed a turn to break down too. Thoughts of what she’d done to cause this haunted her, but she tried to push them aside. She took a few breaths. Hot tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill over. Still shaking, she stepped away from the others for a moment to compose herself. The voice inside her head returned and kept reminding her You killed an Unwanted.
“I saved a lot of people,” she whispered, trying to drown out the other voice. But it persisted. Fifer looked around at the devastated property and felt a heaviness she’d never known before. This place felt toxic in its current state, and she’d caused it by killing the head mage. “It’s too much,” Fifer murmured, clutching the robe against her chest. Then: “Get a hold of yourself.”
Once things were restored to normal, Fifer knew she’d need someone to talk to who would support her and tell her she did the right thing. She looked for Thisbe, who was instructing the ghost dragons to lift the roof off the dissenters. If only the two were close again, Fifer could talk to her. She’d be the one who’d understand more than anyone. But things were too precarious right now, and there was no time to patch them up. Fifer blinked hard and turned away. Maybe the others were ready to restore the world so they could move on from this.
The people of Artimé had never been so prepared to bring things back to normal. They had the robe. They knew the spell. And everybody was out of the gray shack. Fifer returned to Aaron and her other friends to see how they were faring and gauge their readiness to take the next step.
Thisbe and Rohan arrived right after her, and before Fifer could say anything, Thisbe immediately started giving a report about the state of the dissenters, whom Fifer had hardly thought about until now. “There are some people with serious injuries under that roof,” said Thisbe. “I told the dragons to move the roof onto the shack. We want to do that before we restore the world, right? Or else it would crush the people under it when it turns back into the mansion roof.”
“Yes, exactly,” said Aaron, still seated on the ground and looking dazed and disheveled. “Definitely put the roof back on before restoring the world so it’ll transform with the rest of the mansion.” His voice was gritty, and his normally clean-shaven face wore a thick stubbly growth.
“But won’t the dissenters escape?” Fifer squinted at the people, many of whom were in no shape to run away. “Without Florence and Simber they are basically unattended right now. I don’t want them getting away.”
“We thought of that,” Thisbe said coolly. “The dragons are handling it.”
“Our people will help as well,” offered Rohan.
“Great,” said Aaron, closing his eyes.
The voice crept back into Fifer’s head. Sure, she’d saved these people. But others had been hurt in the process. Had killing Frieda really been the only way to get the people out of the remote rooms? Had Fifer exhausted all other options? Couldn’t they have tried once more to get the secret hallway door to work? Fifer pushed the voice away and watched Thisbe organize the other black-eyed children. They surrounded the dissenters, breathing warning blasts of fire at the ones who were trying to leave the area and letting the people know they meant business. Thisbe had arrived with an impressive team on dragons, and it was thanks to them that Fifer and the others were able to control the situation now. Thisbe had really become a strong and smart leader, and Fifer hadn’t realized it until now. There was so much she didn’t know about her twin. It made them feel even more distant.
Gorgrun and Quince placed the roof on top of the gray shack. Then the dragons returned to the ground and surrounded the dissenters with their bodies. Most of the dissenters were too dazed or injured to do anything, but a few of them, like Frieda’s right-hand man, were yelling horrendous things in protest. Nevertheless, Thisbe and Rohan began assessing the injuries, and soon Fifer spotted Henry, Thatcher, and Carina heading over there to help.
Fifer turned and saw that Sean had found Ava and Lukas. Quince helped them down, and Sean hugged the two tightly and listened to the story of their adventure on the ghost dragon’s back. Fifer swallowed hard. Reuniting Ava and Lukas with their parents—Fifer had made that happen. That was worth something, wasn’t it?
Feeling numb, Fifer looked away and tuned in to the conversation around her. Claire Morning and Gunnar Haluki had found Aaron and the rest. They exchanged quick explanations of which rooms they’d been in this whole time.
When Thisbe and Rohan returned, Fifer shook the wrinkles out of the robe and held it up by the collar, then draped it loosely over her arm. She glanced at Aaron. “Whenever you feel up to it… I think everything is in place now that the roof is there.”
Thisbe turned toward her brother. “We should hurry so Henry can get to the medicine.” She hesitated, then added, “I hope the inside of the mansion will be magically fixed too, like the tubes and staircase and everything. It was a real disaster in there.”
Fifer nodded and stayed uncharacteristically quiet.
Thisbe noticed. She glanced at Fifer and said stiffly, “You did a good job. I was reviving Asha and Rohan in the kitchen, but I could hear you talking to Frieda and… well, you did everything right.”
Fifer blinked hard. The lump in her throat stopped her from answering.
“Fifer, you’re the one responsible for this?” Aaron asked.
Fifer eyed her brother, unsure how to take his question. Was he mad? Or just surprised? Her stomach clenched. What if he was mad? “Yes,” she said quietly, then cleared her throat. “Simber helped. And Thisbe, obviously. And Ishibashi. And… well, everyone.”
“Well done, Fifer,” said Ms. Morning. “That must have been hard. Are you okay?”
Fifer wanted to say no. She wanted
somebody to hug her. She wanted to crawl into her bed and never come back out. But she just stood still. “Yes. I’m okay.”
Aaron looked up at Fifer. His lips were parched and peeling. “We didn’t have much longer in there, if you know what I mean,” he said earnestly. “Octavia was working hard on a 3-D window, but it kept going wrong. We were getting desperate for water. I kept fainting. If another day had passed, we might not have survived.” He paused. “I know what you did was probably hard for you. But however it happened, it was the right thing.”
Fifer’s chin quivered and sobs threatened, but she held them back. “Thanks. I—um. Thank you.” She held out the robe to him once more. “Are you ready?”
Kaylee stepped in. “Oh, no thank you,” she said, taking Aaron’s hands in hers so he couldn’t accept it. “He’s just fine without it.”
Aaron gave a weary laugh and looked sideways at his wife. “Kaylee’s right. No thanks. You’re going to have to find a new head mage.”
Fifer and Thisbe both stared. “You won’t do it?” Thisbe asked.
“No way.”
“Ms. Morning, then?” said Thisbe.
“Not me either, I’m afraid,” said Claire. “My life is in Quill. There’s got to be a better choice. Someone who is actually passionate about being head mage.”
“How about Lani?” asked Fifer uncertainly. There had been a time when she’d wanted the job. Fifer squinted and looked around for the woman who’d inspired her actions that day.
“Again, no,” said Claire. “Lani and I actually talked about it in the lounge while we were stuck in there. She told me that her time for that had passed, and she wasn’t interested. She has a lot more on her agenda that she wants to accomplish, which wouldn’t give her time for running things around here. So I think it’s clear what that means.”
Aaron nodded and looked at the twins. “Maybe it’s time for one of you,” he said.
The girls stiffened. “One of us?” echoed Thisbe. Her eyes widened as she imagined the prestigious job. Head mage of Artimé. Would she want to step into that role? Right now when everything crazy was happening in the land of the dragons? It was definitely tempting.
“But…,” said Fifer. “We just, um, ended the career of the last head mage.”
“You did, you mean,” Thisbe pointed out.
“And that would put you in some danger,” Claire warned. “There are a lot of changes that have to happen in Artimé. It’s going to be a rocky time for a while, I’m afraid.”
Immediately Thisbe’s face grew worried—for herself and for her sister. No matter how mad she was, she didn’t want Fifer to be in danger. They’d already had one head mage sibling die. It was hard to think of either of them taking over and being that vulnerable. Plus, for Thisbe, there was the Revinir to think about. And the dragon-woman had threatened to go after Fifer, too. No doubt she’d be returning sooner or later with her dragons. Fifer would be target number one on this island if she were the head mage. Thisbe frowned. Should she offer to become head mage in order to save her sister? She glanced at Rohan, who was giving her a puzzled look, as if he were wondering why she hadn’t immediately turned down the offer. Thisbe closed her eyes briefly. He was right. Thisbe couldn’t imagine doing it. She had another agenda entirely, and her other land was calling to her.
Henry shouted out from the area with the dissenters. “Can you bring the world back, please? We need supplies and medicine!”
Fifer felt sick thinking about being head mage. She wanted to shout “Yes!” to the skies. To slip her arms into the sleeves of that precious robe. But she had just killed someone—not just anyone, but the head mage, a former Unwanted, who the dissenters had supported. What would happen if Fifer said yes? Would the dissenters keep trying to come after her for revenge?
Aaron looked from one twin’s face to the other, reading the signs. Thisbe gave a wan smile, then shook her head slightly. “I’m out. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”
Sky gave Thisbe a nod. She knew that had been the right call.
“Fifer?” Aaron nudged.
Fifer sucked in a breath as the voice in her head returned. “I—I—what?”
“You seem like a good fit.”
Fifer couldn’t speak. Everything swirled in her mind. Good, bad. Good, bad. You killed an Unwanted. You saved your brother’s life.
Thisbe closed her eyes, a pained look crossing her face as she imagined how hard things would be for Fifer in this role. Wasn’t there anybody else who would do it?
“Why don’t you want to?” Fifer whispered, glancing at her sister.
Thisbe hesitated. “I have other things I want to do. My work… and my heart… is in Grimere with our people and our land and the dragons.” She glanced at Rohan as heat rose to her face.
Our people. Our lands. That included Fifer, and it gave her one more thing to feel strange about if she chose to do this. “But,” said Fifer weakly, “what about my part in the whole land of the dragons… thing?” Her voice faltered and betrayed the truth—that she really wasn’t very invested in the country of her mother’s birth. The country where her grandmother should be queen. But none of that mattered. In that moment she knew for sure that her heart was here, in Artimé, in spite of the troubles this land and its people faced going forward. In spite of the danger she’d certainly face. Fifer wanted to be with Aaron and Kaylee and Seth, and all the others who were so special to her. The people she’d saved by ending the reign of Frieda Stubbs. And no matter what accusations the voice in her head made, Artimé needed her. It might take some time to convince herself of that after what had happened today, but Fifer had done what was necessary to save the world she loved.
Being head mage was also something Fifer had worked hard to earn, though she hadn’t realized it at the time. She’d fought Alex’s rules to secretly train and take her place as a top mage on the rescue team. And she’d stepped up and led the charge to find Thisbe after Alex had been killed. She’d put her grief aside for the sake of the quest and had commanded people twice her age. Her team had found her sister and Sky and Rohan and Maiven, and they’d come out of a second fiery battle against the Revinir without losing anybody else. That was Fifer’s success. Those were the battles she’d already won. When she thought of it that way, reuniting the people and reinstating the principles of Artimé didn’t seem quite as hard as before.
Her gaze landed on the robe draped over her arm. She couldn’t look Thisbe in the eye as all the confusing thoughts swirled around her mind. Was it wrong that Fifer felt so strongly tied to Artimé instead of Grimere? Should she be feeling bad about this in addition to her feelings about what had happened with Frieda? And, whether Thisbe wanted the role or not, would she make a better head mage than Fifer? She’d become a leader without anyone really noticing until now. Fifer glanced at Simber, frozen and splayed weirdly in the dirt, and remembered their short time working together in Grimere after Alex had died. Would the cheetah feel the same about Thisbe as he would about Fifer?
“Fife,” Thisbe said, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s be real. We both know you don’t feel any particular pull from Grimere, and that’s totally okay. But,” she said slyly, “you could definitely be an ally as the ruler of Artimé, you know? Help us out a little, maybe? Once things are settled here?”
Head mage Fifer Stowe? It was everything Fifer wanted. She loved being a leader. But it was frightening, too. What would she do with all the dissenters? That was a big dilemma. Would they rebuild the pen and jail them there indefinitely? How would Fifer manage this new problem, which didn’t go away just because Frieda Stubbs was taken down for good? Maybe Artimé would continue to be a world split apart, with Unwanteds fighting against one another. No one of sound mind would wish to inherit that. But it did spur Fifer on to want to fix it.
“I just…,” said Fifer. “There’s so much… and I’m not sure how people would accept me.”
“You are the best person to solve all of these things,” Thisbe said, more
earnestly than she’d spoken to Fifer in a very long time. “And you know who’s more important than pretty much anyone, right?”
Fifer, still staring at the robe, wore an unreadable expression. She was having trouble catching her breath, and she realized she’d been holding it. She looked up. “Who?”
“Simber,” said Thisbe. “Simber is more important than anything. He’s the symbol of Artimé, more than the mansion or anything or anyone else. And Artimé needs him to be happy, or we all end up suffering.” She paused for a breath, then lowered her voice. “And he wants you. He always turns to you. It’s so obvious you’d be his number one choice. You two get each other.” She studied her sister’s skeptical expression. “Let’s not let Simber down. Don’t you agree with me?”
Fifer nodded. “I do,” she whispered. “You’re right. That’s part of the scariness, though, that it does feel so right…” She knew she had a special bond with Simber. Even though he’d seemed to ignore her for a time when Aaron was head mage, she still knew he’d loved working with her. And he’d seemed to focus on her again ever since they’d sprung him free from the theater. Almost as if he saw her as his alternative to Frieda Stubbs. As the leader of this fighting group.
Sky grasped Fifer’s arm. “We all believe in you. And we’ll help you with all the problems we’re facing. Bring Artimé back.”
“You can do it, Fifer,” said Aaron. “You’ve reenergized the core supporters of Artimé, and I know you’ll be a superb leader. We’ll help you if you need us. We’ll protect you from the dangers.” He paused, and they all heard a low rumbling in the distance.
“What is that?” asked Claire.
Aaron looked toward Quill. “Right on cue,” he muttered. “It’s the people of Quill coming to complain. No doubt they’re annoyed to have lost their world too. We don’t need them muddying things up here—let’s get this world fixed and turn them all around so we can help the injured ones.”
