Dragon Curse

by Lisa McMann

  “That’s, like, so normal. Her name can’t be Emma.”

  “Why not?” asked Sky.

  “Because Emma is a nice name. Not like Eagala or the Revinir. Those sound sinister. Emma sounds like the name of your best friend’s mom.”

  Sky laughed. “None of my best friends’ moms were named Emma. I don’t know anyone with that name, actually.”

  “Me either,” admitted Fifer. “I just . . . Maybe I read it in a book.”

  “Anyway,” said Sky, “it makes sense that when she decided all of Warbler needed nature and animal names she picked Eagala—it starts with the same letter.” She went back to the books she’d been looking at.

  “I guess.” Fifer turned the page. “My, she was angry about Justine and Marcus leaving. She’s got a full-on rant here.” Fifer read on, then lowered the journal. “I feel weird reading this. Is it wrong?”

  Sky glanced over her shoulder. “I can see why you’d feel that way. With anybody else, I’d pause and think that through too. But the Revinir has abducted Thisbe and our dragon friends. She set one of Warbler’s ships on fire and destroyed it. She’s taken a world of dragons and black-eyed children as her slaves by putting a mind control spell on them. And she intends to keep manipulating and stepping on others as she stomps and claws her way to the top of everything with no regard for anyone else.” Sky took a breath. “I say, as a citizen of Warbler and Artimé, that she has waived all right to privacy. We need to fight her however we can, and this might just give us a clue as to how.”

  Fifer thought that through, then nodded. She sat down and read further. Every now and then she reported something out loud to Sky. “Emma feels abandoned.” And: “Emma is extremely angry at her parents for not letting her go after her brother and sister.” And: “Emma is determined to get re—” Fifer stopped short and stared at the page.

  Sky looked up. “To get what?”

  “To get revenge against the island of Quill,” Fifer said slowly. She turned her head. “And that’s exactly what she’s been trying to do for sixty years.”

  “Even long after her siblings died,” said Sky. “She’s still paying them back.”

  “And hurting us.”

  Sky nodded. “Does she say anything else about her parents? I don’t think we know anything about them. I certainly don’t remember them, and I don’t think my mother does either.”

  “She talks about her father being away at sea. And her mother, who was the ruler of Warbler, often spoke about missing her homeland and her family.”

  “Interesting,” said Sky. “So her mother was from somewhere else. I wonder if she came through the Dragon’s Triangle like Kaylee. How many journals are there?”

  “This whole crate is filled with them,” said Fifer.

  “We should take them home with us so we can read everything.”

  Fifer nodded. “We’re not going home yet, though, are we?”

  Sky looked up. “Why not? Don’t you want to?”

  Fifer shrugged. “I don’t know. It feels kind of nice being here, just us. I like talking with you.”

  Sky smiled. “I like talking with you, too. And even though we’re in a hurry to figure this out, you know you can come to me whenever you need me, right?”

  Fifer nodded.

  Sky tilted her head. “Do you need me right now?”

  Fifer’s eyes filled. She nodded again. “Things are just weird.”

  Sky set down the book and went over to the girl. Fifer reached her arms around Sky, and without knowing precisely why, started crying into Sky’s shoulder. There were so many things. Alex’s death after they’d finally become friends. The demotion from leadership just when she was starting to feel so attached to Artimé and its future. Thisbe growing distant, having newfound purpose in the land of the dragons, and having new friends like Rohan who seemed closer to her than Fifer was these days. Simber ignoring her and her quarrels with Seth. And none of the others seemed to be affected by these things that meant so much to Fifer. It made Fifer feel like she didn’t belong anywhere. Like she and her goals and desires weren’t important at all. “I’m sorry,” Fifer sobbed, even though she wasn’t sure why she said it.

  Sky patted her on the back and whispered, “There, there,” to her and let her cry. She didn’t ask what was wrong. She remembered being thirteen, and she knew that Fifer would tell her whatever it was when she was ready.

  After a while they separated. Fifer thanked Sky and apologized for getting her shirt wet with tears.

  “I think my shirt is glad to be of help,” Sky said with a crooked grin. “It has seen a lot of tears lately.”

  Fifer sniffed and wiped her face, feeling better just to let it out, even if she didn’t have any solutions to her problems. At least Sky was there, and it gave Fifer comfort to know she could go to her whenever she needed to. They went back to sorting through the books and crates and packing up the things they needed to study further.

  By the time they were ready to head back to Karkinos, they were already getting a better idea of who Emma-Eagala-the-Revinir was. And what had led her to become such a bitter, power-hungry person. They loaded everything up in the hammock, and Fifer sent the birds to Karkinos. Then they took the boat and followed, eager to continue their studying.

  But once they neared Karkinos, they abruptly realized that something was amiss. Because Karkinos was deserted, and they could just make out that Artimé’s lawn was covered with people and statues and creatures. And they all seemed to be fighting each other. The magical world had gone mad.

  Great Strides

  By the end of the day, Thisbe had coerced Dev into dumping out and rinsing the old bottles of dragon-bone broth while she tended to her secret ancestor broth. When it was ready, she scooped out the steaming ancestor bones and threw them away so they wouldn’t be discovered. She started filling the clean vials with her new batch of bone broth. Once she had several dozen bottles poured, she stopped Dev and gave him his dose to drink, then set one aside for herself. She picked up seven more, then hesitated as a thought struck her. She grabbed an additional seven and brought all fourteen to the outer chamber to give to the soldiers to disperse.

  “Why so many bottles?” asked a soldier.

  “The Revinir wants two doses for each slave,” Thisbe said smoothly. “To make up for the spoiled dose last time.”

  “Oh.” The soldier seemed to accept the explanation, and since she hadn’t gone out to Dragonsmarche when the slaves had, she wouldn’t have known what was said. Because the slaves all told the truth now while under the Revinir’s control, she didn’t need to question the girl.

  The soldier headed out. Thisbe heard her explain the reason for two doses to her partner. Satisfied, Thisbe went back inside the kitchen to finish filling bottles and putting them in the throne room, starting again from the left as before. Then she built a new batch of dragon-bone broth, deliberately making sure Dev saw her hoist the large bones into her cauldron in case he ever got questioned about what Thisbe was doing. Once she had it going, she helped Dev finish bottling his dragon-bone broth, and she brought it into the throne room. She examined the bottles carefully, memorizing the ones that she’d made: more golden in color and even a little thicker in viscosity. There was definitely a difference, and Thisbe was determined not to confuse them.

  As Dev started his next batch, Thisbe pocketed a few extra vials of ancestor broth to bring back to her crypt in case she and Rohan needed them as an antidote. She hesitated. She wanted Dev to ingest two vials like everyone else, but she didn’t want to tell him to take two—he’d been with her this whole time, so he knew that the Revinir hadn’t actually given that order. She didn’t think he’d accept the directive from Thisbe—not the way he’d accept it from someone in authority like the Revinir or a soldier. So she kept quiet and made sure he’d finished his single vial.

  She rinsed it out and saw that Dev was acting strange again, like he had been the previous time. He was leaning over the counter, his fac
e tinged with gray.

  “Are you all right?” Thisbe asked him. She checked for soldiers, then went over to him. He stood up, a bit shaky, and turned to face her.

  This time he seemed to focus on her for a moment. His brow furrowed. “Thisbe?” he said softly.

  Thisbe froze. “Dev!” she said in harsh whisper. She grabbed his arm. “Do you know me?”

  But then his eyes glazed over again, and all recognition was gone. Thisbe dropped her hand, and he turned away to his station, methodically stoking the fire.

  • • •

  That evening, when Thisbe and Rohan met in the tunnel between the crypts, they felt a renewed sense of urgency.

  “Dev had a moment of recognition after taking one dose today,” Thisbe reported. “I wonder what’s happening to the others. We’re going to have to get to them somehow before the Revinir notices.”

  “She already noticed the first time,” said Rohan grimly. “She’s definitely going to notice this time too. Especially since she ordered us to take two. I actually had to swallow one of them while the soldiers watched, because I didn’t have anywhere else to go with this first dose before I had to down the second bottle. Please tell me it was the ancestor broth. It looked golden like the other one you gave me, and I didn’t get any scales.”

  “It was! And this new batch has lots of dried herbs floating in it, so that should help you tell the difference too. Future bottles should look the same.” She paused, then said sheepishly, “It was me who told the soldiers to give the double dose. The idea just came to me as a way to speed up the process. I figured the soldiers would believe anything I say, and it worked.”

  “Be careful, pria,” Rohan warned. “If that gets back to the Revinir, she’s going to know something’s wrong.”

  “I didn’t think it through,” said Thisbe. “You’re right—that was a mistake.” They were both silent for a moment, wondering if there would be any ramifications. Then Thisbe brightened. “But I feel good about how our meeting went with her in Dragonsmarche this morning. I felt like I was on my game.”

  Rohan tilted his head. “On your game? I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

  “Oh—sorry. It’s a thing Kaylee says sometimes. Anyway, it means I was really confident about how I answered the Revinir, and she totally believed me—it was like I had a gut feeling about how to answer her questions. And I got them right.”

  “I assumed you were just answering truthfully,” said Rohan. “You tricked me as well.”

  “And then she said to dump the old broth out, which was what I was thinking and concentrating on. I wonder if I sort of . . .” Thisbe stopped and laughed quietly. “Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “I just wonder if I sort of, somehow . . . I don’t know.”

  “Sort of somehow what?” said Rohan, truly curious.

  “Planted that idea in her head.”

  “Um . . . ,” said Rohan, frowning slightly.

  “I know, I know. It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.”

  “Yes. It was probably just a coincidence. It must’ve felt nice to have a day that went right for once, though. You deserve it.”

  “It did. It felt great.” Thisbe pressed her shoulders against the tunnel wall, then stretched, feeling the ache after a hard day of slinging bones and cauldrons around. “But now things are going to get complicated. The others are at various levels of broth saturation. We don’t know how close they are to snapping out of the mind control. Do you see the slaves in the hallways regularly? Can you keep an eye out for them?”

  “Yes. I know more or less where they are all stationed. I’ve already been altering my travel routes to make sure I see each of them every day. And you’re with Dev, so you can monitor him.”

  “Right.”

  “And then?” Rohan asked. “What happens once the others are back in their right minds?”

  Thisbe tapped her lips thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to move fast.”

  “How exactly?”

  “I’m not sure yet. All I know is that we have to convince the other slaves to help us get out of here once their connections to the Revinir are broken. And we’ll have to do it before the Revinir figures out what’s going on. Before she has a chance to get a good look at any of us.”

  “I expect that’ll have to happen very soon, Thisbe.”

  Thisbe glanced up and saw him gazing earnestly at her.

  He touched her fingers. “It’s not just two of us this time. We’ve got others whose lives we’re endangering by doing this.”

  Thisbe pressed her lips together. “I know. I don’t think she’ll try to hurt us.”

  “I think she will,” said Rohan.

  “You do?”

  “While we’re under her control she won’t—we’re very useful to her. But if she realizes you duped her, well . . . I’m afraid of what she’ll do to you.”

  “You duped her too.”

  “Yes, but you’re the one making the antidote to her dragon-bone broth right under her nose. She’s going to feel very angry about that, and I doubt she’ll spare your life after something like that. Or mine, if she figures out what I’ve done.”

  Thisbe grew silent. After a minute she nodded. “Again you’re right.”

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” Rohan said, almost apologetically. “My day was a lot calmer and quieter than yours.”

  Thoughts swirled around in Thisbe’s mind. Things were happening faster than she’d expected. How were they going to get everyone out of here safely?

  It wasn’t like Thisbe hadn’t thought about it—she’d spent plenty of time musing back in Artimé before the Revinir came. She’d talked with Florence about it too. And in addition to all the strongest spell components, Florence had given her some of the most basic magical components that many Artiméans had trained with long ago, but that they no longer carried because they weren’t terribly useful in combat situations. Florence had thought Thisbe might be in a unique situation, though, and being stuck down here in the catacombs again made Thisbe feel certain Florence had been right. Absently Thisbe checked her pockets, identifying the items by touch. They would come in handy when escape time came. “We need a meeting spot,” Thisbe said. “And a way to communicate. Do you still have my . . . my gift? The one . . .” She felt her face grow hot.

  “Of course I do,” said Rohan. “Shall I practice my seek spell to make sure I can do it?”

  “Yes. I’ll send one to you first, so you can watch my technique.” She reached into her back pocket where she kept the tiny birch-bark diorama that Rohan had constructed for her and unfolded it. “First, think about the person who gave it to you.” Holding it in her hands, she closed her eyes and concentrated on Rohan, picturing the moment he’d given it to her. It made her feel wistful even though he was right next to her. “Seek,” she whispered.

  A ball of light shot out and stopped abruptly inches away in front of Rohan. It exploded into a picture of the diorama.

  “Okay, I think I can do that,” said Rohan confidently. He reached for the poem that Thisbe had written for him. “I’ve been wanting to try this out for so long.”

  “Well, why didn’t you?” said Thisbe.

  “I—” Now it was Rohan’s turn to feel heat rushing to his face. He stumbled over his words. “I didn’t want to intrude into your life.”

  Thisbe caught his gaze. A pang of longing went through her chest, and she grasped his sleeve. “Please don’t ever feel that way,” she said quietly.

  “I also didn’t want you to think I needed you.” Rohan frowned after he said it. The words hadn’t come out sounding right at all.

  “Oh.”

  “I mean, I do, though,” said Rohan.

  “Do what?”

  “Need you.”

  Thisbe looked up. Words caught in her throat, so she said nothing at all.

  Rohan swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He turned back to the gift in his hands
. After opening the paper, Rohan read the poem that Thisbe had written for him. He mouthed the words but didn’t say them out loud, as if saying them would break the spell of their beauty or release them to the world for others to steal. He wanted these words for himself and no one else.

  He closed his eyes, thinking only about the girl who’d given him the gift. And then he whispered, “Seek.”

  A bright ball of light shot from his hands and stopped in front of Thisbe. It exploded in front of her, a picture of the poem.

  Thisbe grinned and grasped Rohan’s forearm in delight. “You did it!”

  “I did!” Rohan turned to face her, and then, before he could change his mind, he leaned forward. “May I . . . ?” he asked.

  Thisbe’s breath caught. Then she moistened her lips and nodded. She leaned in, and their lips met in a soft, clumsy peck.

  After the Kiss

  Thisbe and Rohan both felt a little strange—in a nice way—after sharing their first kiss together. But the strangeness faded quickly when they continued talking about their plans. Knowing the Revinir couldn’t get to them in the catacombs anymore because of her size, they felt relatively safe establishing Thisbe’s crypt as a meeting place. They paused momentarily when they remembered the last time an altercation had happened in that crypt. But not one to be superstitious, Thisbe waved off the possibility of something terrible like that happening again just because they were in the same spot. Besides, they both agreed that having the tunnel as a second exit was crucial in case soldiers came charging after them at the Revinir’s command.

  Rohan fell asleep holding Thisbe’s hand but woke sprawled sideways with Thisbe’s shoe in his face. Both had to scramble to their normal sleeping areas when Mangrel’s keys rattled outside Rohan’s door.

  They went their separate ways as usual. While Rohan walked to collect bones for the broth, he tried to hide the little smile on his face so he wouldn’t be seen as suspicious. But he had the memory of the kiss to dwell on, which helped him through the day.

  As he worked, he made a point to locate all six of the other slaves. Of them, Reza seemed the most glassy-eyed, and he ignored Rohan completely. But the others seemed to be teetering on the edge of lucidity. Prindi wore a puzzled expression, and her eyes tracked Rohan’s movements—definitely an improvement. “Prindi,” he said.