by Lisa McMann
Thisbe officially introduced Maiven Taveer, Asha, Prindi, Reza, Rohan, and the rest from Grimere to the mansion. And later, while Thisbe instructed the black-eyed children on how they could help and invited them to explore the mansion, Fifer introduced Aaron to Maiven, his grandmother. The three talked through that surprise, and Maiven shared how they’d come to learn the truth. Then, with pressing duties awaiting them all, they agreed to talk more when there was time.
Kitten and Fox went together to the secret hallway so Kitten could continue looking for Mr. Today’s clue. There was no doubt in her mind that if she found it and tried to tell anyone, they would ignore her mews as usual. But it would be good to have the information whenever the humans got around to waking her up and asking for it.
Once Fifer left Aaron in Ms. Octavia’s classroom, she returned to the hospital ward. She was still trying to figure out the best way to handle the dissenters. Several of them expressed gratitude for being let inside and for the comfortable beds in the ward. And many seemed remorseful about fighting against the other Artiméans. But not all. Garrit and a few others were furious. And Fifer knew that Florence had been right. There had to be consequences for their actions.
Fifer addressed them sternly. “What you have done to Artimé is unforgiveable,” she said. “You put the lives of your fellow people in grave danger by following the leadership of a madwoman. There is no excuse for your behavior. If you would like to remain in Artimé, you’d better start thinking about what you plan to do to improve yourselves and this world going forward. Or be prepared to part ways and leave this island.”
She paused her speech to gaze from one bed to the next and from chair to chair. Everyone was unsurprisingly quiet in this moment, even the angry ones. “I’m going to start interviews tomorrow,” Fifer said. “So be prepared to show me and the others that you can be trusted.” She turned to go. “Now, get some sleep. We can all use it.”
Especially Fifer. She was feeling exhaustion set in, but she still had a few things to do before she could rest. And part of her didn’t want to rest, because that would just open her mind up to spin around all the problems with Artimé, with Thisbe, and with herself. At least for the moment she could cast those aside. Being busy had its advantages.
The crew of statues fixing the mansion continued to work while Fifer went upstairs to expand the hallways and add new apartments for all of their guests. By the time she finished showing their Grimere friends where they would sleep, she was exhausted and ready to collapse. She went straight to her room and found Thisbe there already, unpacking her things in the bedroom.
“Oh,” said Fifer. “Hi.”
“You moved me back in,” said Thisbe, looking up. “I tried the other room—the one you threw all my junk in front of last time I was home—but the door didn’t know me anymore.”
“Yeah… I didn’t want all of your stuff to sit out in the hallway forever after you left without telling me.”
Thisbe pressed her lips together and sat on her bed. “I see.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you have anything else you’d like to say?”
Fifer sighed. She knew she shouldn’t start this right now when she was tired. That was never a good idea. But she’d been feeling bad for so long that it just came out. “I feel like you intentionally misunderstood me.”
“What? When? Today?”
“No, not today. Right before you left. You kept finding things to get offended about as you walked around here with your… your attitude. Like you were more important because you had a mission in the land of the dragons, and I was just being silly because I believe people need fun in their lives. And water. Remember that time you yelled at me because I said people should have canteens, of all things?”
Thisbe burrowed her fists into her eyes. She could feel a quick anger rise inside her. “You were being selfish.” She let out an exasperated breath, overwhelmed with all of the misunderstandings and how to address them. “Look, we’re both exhausted. Can we talk about this later?”
Fifer clenched her teeth and nodded primly. “Are you staying here? In this room?”
“May I, please, your head mageship?” Thisbe said sarcastically.
“Are you jealous of my position?” asked Fifer, narrowing her eyes. “You said you didn’t want it!”
“No, of course not!” yelled Thisbe, throwing her hands up in frustration. “It seems like a terrible job, if you ask me. All I was saying is that this is still my room too, isn’t it? Besides, I figured you’d be the one to move out.”
“Me? You’re the one who left!”
“Yes, you! You’re the head mage now. You have your own special apartment.”
Fifer gasped. The words hit like a slap. Moving to the head mage’s quarters hadn’t crossed her mind yet, and it felt horrible thinking about taking over her dead brother’s apartment. “Oh, Thisbe,” said Fifer, her throat tightening. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned swiftly so Thisbe wouldn’t see them.
Thisbe stood up, immediately remorseful. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” She wrung her hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have opened my mouth tonight. Please… I’m begging you. Let’s go to bed and talk about this when things settle down. Before we make it worse.”
Fifer nodded, not trusting her voice. The two got ready for bed in silence, both of them upset and wanting to turn the light off as soon as possible so they wouldn’t have to see each other.
Once in bed, Fifer stared at the ceiling in the dark. Everything was tumultuous. She could hardly wrap her mind around all the changes. And now, before she could even catch her breath, she and Thisbe were in an all-out war. This was so foreign—the twins used to agree on everything. Tell each other all of their secrets. Have great conversations before drifting off to sleep. How Fifer longed for that to happen again, but there was so much junk piled up between them that it felt insurmountable. She missed the way things used to be, but she didn’t know how to get them back there. For someone in control of an entire community, she certainly seemed out of control of this situation. Would she and Thisbe ever be the same again?
On the other side of the room, Thisbe turned to her side and pulled the covers up around her ears. She didn’t like how things had gone. She’d expected Fifer to thank her for returning, not attack her for leaving. After all, Thisbe had gone with Drock back to captivity to save Artimé! It had been such an unselfish act, and Fifer was mad about it? That was pretty rude. And pretty typical of how Fifer had been acting since before Thisbe and Drock had left. The two just didn’t see eye to eye anymore. And it seemed like it wouldn’t be long before they were going their separate ways for good. The thought was painful.
The girls, both restless and lost in their thoughts, didn’t speak, though they could tell the other was still awake. It was the opposite of how they used to act. Everything was so strange. And neither girl was certain their relationship could survive it.
Revinir on the Move
Dev watched the Revinir coming closer and tried not to panic. She was still very far away. Wouldn’t she, of anyone, know that this palace was deserted? She must have been here at some point in the past ten years since she’d arrived in this world. She probably stole something from here—Dev wouldn’t put it past her. So why was she flying out this way? Did she know Dev was alive and hiding out here?
His heart stopped for a second, and he couldn’t think straight. Had she gotten to Drock now too? Is that how she found out that Dev was here? “Oh no,” Dev whispered. “Oh, dear gods, save me. What am I supposed to do now?” After such a short respite without any worries, all of Dev’s fears came rushing back. And here he was, alone, to face them.
“Think, Dev!” he said. “If Drock finally succumbed to her call, then he would have told her I was in the cavelands, not here. Plus,” he said, feeling a small surge of hope, “she hasn’t roared at all since Drock rescued me, so he wouldn’t have had any of her calls to respond to. So that means Drock is still safe. Right?”
&n
bsp; He turned back to the window to see if Drock was there with her, but it was too dark to tell. The Revinir and her posse of dragons were definitely getting closer, though, and they seemed to be heading straight for the palace. “They might not be looking for me,” Dev muttered, “but even if they’re not, I definitely don’t want them to find me. I need to hide.”
The thought of finding a hiding place in this dark, unfamiliar, run-down, falling-apart property with animals and bats and spider webs was almost enough to make Dev want to walk out right now with his hands in the air and give himself up. But if there was still a chance the Revinir thought he was dead, he had to keep that lie going as long as possible. He stumbled through the dome, snuffing the candles and wondering if there was anyplace safe to hide in the library.
“They can’t get into this room,” Dev murmured. “They’re too big to fit up the stairwell or through the windows.” And he knew he could lock the trapdoor. But his expression soured. A trapdoor and too-small windows wouldn’t stop dragons. “The Revinir wouldn’t think twice about knocking a tower down or torching the place to flush me out. If they set fire to this palace, there’s no escape for me.” He started down the stairwell, convinced that the library was not the place to be.
By the time he exited into the courtyard, he knew he couldn’t hide anywhere inside the palace. If they caught wind of him, they’d burn it all down. And Dev couldn’t bear to lose this place that he already thought of as his very own. He had to hide somewhere away from the palace. Somewhere they wouldn’t be able to track his scent. Or see him. Or search for him… or whoever it was they were looking for. He started running south across the courtyard.
It has to be Thisbe and the others they’re in search of, Dev thought as he slipped through the overgrowth of bushes and saplings. The fog had returned, and the grass was damp with dew. Concluding that he wasn’t the hunted one, whether true or not, calmed him slightly. He was glad for himself. But he was also glad for Thisbe that the Revinir, for whatever reason, had chosen to come this way instead of toward her home island. Maybe the Revinir was thinking only a fool would go back to hide in the same place she had hidden last time. If so, Thisbe had outplayed the dragon-woman again.
Dev couldn’t see the Revinir and her dragons very well from the ground because of the trees and brush, which made their impending arrival that much more ominous and frightening. He reached the spider-web-covered garden and stopped, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. Should he crawl under the webs and hide in there?
But no—just because Dev found it to be a scary place didn’t mean dragons would be scared of a few thousand spiders. They’d probably tromp right through it without noticing. He had to think like a dragon. Where could he go that they wouldn’t search? Or, more importantly, where they wouldn’t be able to smell him?
Dev’s breath became labored, and his mind went blank. He felt like a frightened rabbit, frozen with fear. And then he bolted, running crazily across the property in the dark, stepping on any number of painful things but barely feeling them pierce through his worn-out shoes. He couldn’t process anything. He couldn’t decide what to do. He could only remember the fleeting feeling of being free for those few hours, and now the threat of being caught was a hundred times worse than it had ever been before.
He tripped and dropped to his hands and knees. “No!” he sobbed. “I’m not going back!” Shaken from the fall yet even more resolved, he got up and kept running.
When he ran out of breath, surrounded by overgrowth and fog, he knew he was lost. He glanced at the sky, wondering if the Revinir had landed yet. He didn’t see her or any other dragons. Would he feel their impact when they hit the ground? He listened, and in that moment of stillness, he heard a familiar sound.
“The river,” he whispered, and the image of the rushing river with the forked branch sticking up jumped to the forefront of his mind. He took a few breaths, trying to calm down and think through his options. Was the image of the river coming from his ancestors, trying to tell him something?
When the ground shuddered, signaling a dragon landing, and then shuddered again and again, Dev knew he didn’t have a choice. He tore through the growth. Branches swatted at him, cutting his face and body, and he knew the scent of blood wouldn’t help him outwit the dragons.
The sound of the river grew louder, and he ran straight for it. Down the bank he went, leaping over the soft, wet mud that lined it, so he wouldn’t leave footprints. Then he sloshed through the water, waist deep, heading upstream, away from where the palace stood.
Every now and then he could hear a dragon snort. He could see flames shooting through the night air behind him. Dev kept moving, pushing against the current and constantly turning to see if the dragons were following the scent trail he’d left behind on land. He tried to take comfort in the fact that the river was a smart choice. His only choice.
The riverbed shook with dragon footsteps. Dev turned to see an enormous, unfamiliar red dragon approaching the bank. The boy sank down to his neck in the freezing water and continued moving, searching for something to hang on to. But the dragon drew closer and began to drink. Dev took a deep breath and slipped under, trying hard to stay still, keep a foothold, and not get swept away by the current.
Underwater, while his breath ticked away bubble by bubble, Dev had thoughts. I should have gone downstream. If I lose my footing, I’ll be swept right past the dragon. I should have known they’d want a drink after flying all this way. I should have gone into the spider garden. I should have gone back to the cavelands with Astrid when I had the chance.
And then: I should have stayed in the cavelands and never come here at all. Who am I to think I deserve a palace? That I deserve anything at all?
It was the last thought that had Dev sobbing underwater. And the only problem with sobbing underwater is that it requires an intake of breath.
He twisted his head—he had to, or else he’d suck in water and start coughing, and then he’d for sure be caught. He drew in a breath, two breaths, then three, unable to stop once he started. On the fourth breath he opened his eyes, almost not wanting to see what he was certain was directly on top of him.
An enormous dragon’s face was only tens of feet away, its nostrils flared. It was solidly bent down with front legs in the river, fishing. Behind it, several feet from the bank in the overgrowth, was a smaller dragon, barking instructions and demanding water and fish. Her iridescent scales caught the starlight. The Revinir.
Dev’s life was almost over. He knew it. And soon the dragons would know it too. He took another breath as silently as possible and slipped his head under the water again, feeling the sand and rocks start to shift under his feet because of the current. He swam farther, feeling around for anything to grab on to to help him stay in one place or propel him upstream, all while listening to the slightly muted voice of the Revinir talk about what sort of fish she wanted the red dragon to catch for her.
Why not just catch your own fish? Dev wondered. Didn’t she know how? Or maybe she just liked bossing other dragons around? She’d certainly liked bossing him and the other slaves.… Dev’s thoughts became thick and slow, for the water was cold enough to make his body and fingers numb by now. He surfaced to take one more breath, and that’s when he saw it. A long, thin, dark V in the moonlight in front of him, coming up from the riverbed. Dev submerged and inched forward, reaching blindly in front of him, and grabbed on to it. A forked tree branch? His fingers were too numb to tell, but the image flashed before his eyes. The thing was solid and would secure him in place. He hooked his arm around it.
Dev could hear splashing behind him. Muffled snorts. And occasionally a flash of dragon fire illuminated the water around him. Despite his angry lungs, he pulled himself down farther, hoping no part of his body or clothing would be visible. Wishing he could hold his breath for longer, like Thisbe and Fifer and Seth had said they could do. He knew that the pressure in his chest and the black spots in front of his eyes would only become
worse with every throb of his heart. He could feel the need for air pulsing angrily in his face, his neck. He couldn’t tell if his arm was holding on tightly anymore. He couldn’t feel his feet at all, and it seemed like his body was floating up to the surface, though he tried his best to sink. No matter what, though, there was no way Dev was going to stand up or even turn his head for another breath. It was a miracle the dragons hadn’t seen him the last time.
If Dev was about to die, it would be on his own terms. He’d rather drown than be eaten by a dragon. He’d rather suffocate than go back as a slave to the Revinir. As long as he could convince his body not to panic and rebel, the better his chances of getting through this.
Eventually the blackness overtook him. His arm loosened on the underwater branch. His legs slacked and his feet lifted and he breathed water into his lungs. The rest of his body popped up to the surface as he writhed and choked and rolled down the river on the current until it deposited him on the opposite bank in a heap.
A Study of One
When Fifer awoke early the next morning, she remembered that she was the head mage. Then she remembered what she’d had to do to get there, and a wave of nausea washed through her. Even though putting an end to Frieda Stubbs had been the right thing to do in order to save all of those people from the remote rooms, it was still hard for Fifer to admit that she’d done it. She’d traded a single life for many, which seemed like it would be an easy decision, but it wasn’t. Logically it made sense. But part of her wished the events of the previous day had all been a dream. Or… more like a nightmare. She blew out a quiet breath and sat up. Mostly she was glad Aaron and Clementi and Samheed hadn’t died of thirst. She had to focus on that.
She stretched and saw Thisbe still asleep in her bed. At the sight of her, the memory of their fight came rushing back, and Fifer’s already unsettled stomach tied up in knots. Was it possible that today would be even harder than yesterday? With so many things up in the air and so many conflicts to resolve, Fifer wasn’t sure where to start.
