by Lisa McMann
“It’s not that I won’t. It’s just . . . I don’t want to start blubbering again.” He said “blubbering” with a sneer, then frowned hard at the floor.
“Suit yourself,” said Thisbe, her tone icy. “But where I come from, blubbering isn’t something to avoid. It’s a normal part of life to cry sometimes. And it makes you feel better. So maybe if you feel better, we’ll both have a nicer time of it here.”
Dev said nothing, but another tear dripped down his cheek. He swiped at it.
Thisbe sighed. She got up and went to check the bone broth. “So . . . she made you drink this stuff? Is that how you got all scaly?”
“Yeah.”
Thisbe peered at him. “Can you do anything magical now? Or dragonlike?”
“I . . . No. I don’t think so.”
“Do you feel anything different?”
Dev flashed an annoyed look. “My nose still hurts from when you broke it.”
Thisbe frowned. Back in the dungeon, she’d planted a glass spell in his way and he’d slammed into it face-first. The reminder made her want to do it again. “So you don’t feel anything different at all? You just grew some scales? Do they itch? They look itchy.”
Dev sighed heavily and got up. He walked across the room to his cauldron and sat down on the floor over there.
Thisbe rolled her eyes. This wasn’t going at all how she’d planned. She’d wanted to be friendly with Dev and try to get him to join her and Rohan in a revolt. But his bad attitude was extremely annoying, and Thisbe couldn’t seem to let it go. Why couldn’t he be decent?
After a while Thisbe sat down again by her pot. “I’m sorry about breaking your nose.”
Dev shrugged and closed his eyes. “I lied. It wasn’t broken. Just sore.”
“Of course you lied,” muttered Thisbe. What else was new?
Dev fell asleep, or faked it well, and Thisbe sat wrapped in her thoughts. When she grew bored, she concentrated on the fire and tried to flick sparks at it. She wanted her aim to get better from close range, but her flicks caused sparks to go in all sorts of directions. One flew up and came down on her head, causing a lock of her hair to melt and fall to the floor. She slapped the top of her head to make sure it went out. Then she scooted back from the fire to try sending sparks at it again from a distance.
The day continued with time moving extraordinarily slowly. Thisbe napped too. When she awoke to a nasty smell, she scrunched her nose and sat up. “What’s that awful stink?” she asked Dev.
“It’s the bone broth,” he said, seeming less antagonistic after his nap. “The bones are releasing all the gunk inside them. It reeks enough to poison the gods. The Revinir said that’ll make people in the marketplace want it even more. I don’t get it, but she seems to know what she’s doing.”
“Is she going to keep making you drink it?”
Dev gazed at his forearms. His expression grew troubled again. “I think so.”
Thisbe watched him. “Is there any way to make the scales go away?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know.” Dev blew out a breath. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. Nothing that happens to me matters. We’re not people. Not to her. Or to them.”
“Them?” asked Thisbe, puzzled. “The soldiers?”
“Well, them too.”
“But that’s not who you meant.”
Dev gave her a look. “You’re not going to give up with the questions, are you?”
Thisbe grinned. “Not likely.”
He threw his hands up. “Fine. The princess. And the whole kingdom, really. We’re just . . . less than.” His face screwed up. Then he stopped fighting the tears and let them go. He pressed his thumb and forefinger to the inside corners of his eyes, squeezing even more out.
Thisbe was quiet. After a while, she said, “I thought Shanti was your friend.”
Dev didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a shuddering sigh. “So did I.”
So that was why Dev was so upset. Even though she knew some of what had happened from Rohan, she didn’t want to let on. “What happened? Is she the one who got rid of you? Did she send you here?”
He stared at the floor in front of him and nodded. “She’d been mad at me for a few weeks.”
“Why?”
After a moment, Dev looked up. “Because I helped your friends save Fifer’s life.”
Trying to Cope
Thisbe looked up sharply. “What?” she asked Dev. “Fifer’s alive?”
“She was alive when I saw her,” Dev said. “I showed Thatcher how to stop her bleeding. If he kept doing what I showed him, I would guess she survived.”
The news of Fifer slammed into Thisbe, leaving her reeling. Over the past weeks she’d tried desperately to put Fifer’s unknown fate in the back of her mind so she could get through each day. And now everything that had happened, everything she’d tamped down in order not to feel it, came rushing back. She slid her shaking fingers into her hair and gripped it, wanting to scream, but she couldn’t with the soldiers nearby. She covered her mouth and tried to calm her breath until she could trust herself to speak quietly again. “Fifer’s alive. You think.”
Dev gave her a pained look that was not unkind. “I think so, Thisbe, but I can’t say for sure. All I know is that she was alive at the point when Thatcher and that flying monster reached the forest. Thatcher and I started patching her up. She’d lost a lot of blood. And they had a long journey ahead of them, right? I told them to go right away—they weren’t safe in Grimere with her.”
The additional revelations rattled Thisbe again. “So they went . . . home? Without me?” She choked on the words as she pictured Simber, Thatcher, and Fifer flying over the gorge, away from her. She’d assumed it after a while, but now she knew it was true, and it hurt like a fresh stab to the heart.
Dev nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I watched them go. I think they had to—they had to do it to save Fifer’s life.”
Thisbe felt her body go numb. Of course they had to do that. Of course they needed to save her sister, who was right there with them, rather than the one they couldn’t get to. There was no other choice.
After a long while, Thisbe looked up. She swallowed hard. “You haven’t seen them return?”
Dev’s expression flickered, like he was realizing what Thisbe must be thinking—that they weren’t coming back for her. “No,” he said reluctantly. “I’d been watching. Before Shanti sent me here, anyway. That was three days ago.”
Thisbe grew urgent. “No sign of anyone? Are you sure you’d have seen them?”
“If not with my own eyes, I’d have heard about it. Visitors from that direction don’t often go unnoticed.”
Thisbe felt something tearing through her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Her head fell back against the wall, and she began to moan in pain like a wounded animal.
Dev looked at her in alarm. He glanced worriedly at the door, then back at Thisbe. When she continued the noise, he got up and went over to her. “Shh,” he said softly, keeping an eye out for soldiers. “I know it feels bad.”
Thisbe raked in a breath and started sobbing. “They should have come back by now,” she cried, not caring who heard her. Her heart was breaking right there on the Revinir’s kitchen floor, and she couldn’t stop it.
Desperate, Dev reached out to put an arm around her shoulders. “Shh,” he said again. “Shh. The soldiers will hear.”
Thisbe covered her face with her hands and shook. Dev patted her back, looking terribly uncomfortable but growing more desperate to quiet her cries. “Thisbe,” he said firmly. “It’s going to be okay. It doesn’t mean they’re not coming. Maybe something held them up.”
Thisbe shook her head in her hands. She knew better. Nothing could hold them up if they really wanted to go after something. She’d read Lani’s books. The people of Artimé were warriors. And they didn’t waste time.
After a while Thisbe lifted her head and saw Dev’s concerned face in front of hers. She looked at him for
a long moment. “Maybe the Revinir was right,” she whispered. “They’re never coming back.”
“Don’t listen to her,” said Dev weakly. But his face gave away his own suspicions. “How long does it take for them to get to your island?”
“A few days. They could have dropped Fifer off and turned around and been back here within a week.”
“Oh.” Dev looked away.
Thisbe could tell he believed what she was thinking and feeling too. They should have been back long before now. For an instant Thisbe wondered if the Revinir was right that Alex really was teaching her a lesson. If so, it was the meanest lesson she’d ever heard of. But deep in her heart Thisbe knew that couldn’t be it. The Revinir was lying, making things up to get Thisbe to be on her side. Even as forgotten as Thisbe was feeling right now, she knew there had to be a logical reason for no one from Artimé coming back for her. And she refused to let the Revinir poison her mind against her brother—everything he’d ever done was out of love for her. She knew that. She began crying again, quietly this time. Because despite all that, she still had no idea where they could be.
Dev gave her a helpless look. After a while he got up to add water to his bone broth. He added some to Thisbe’s as well while she sat grieving on the floor.
Hours went by in which neither of them spoke. Before they were done for the day and allowed to return to their crypts, Thisbe turned to Dev. “Thank you for saving my sister’s life,” she said. “And I’m sorry about Shanti.”
Dev glanced at her, and for a moment they both felt the connection that comes when people are in pain together. “Thanks,” he said. After a minute, he added, “She was my only friend.”
Dev’s Story
Thisbe spent a thoughtful evening alone in her crypt. It was a night Rohan was working, so he wasn’t around. She ate her meal and worked on her magic half-heartedly, then went to sleep early.
The next morning Mangrel told her to bring three more bones to the Revinir’s kitchen. She dragged them there.
The stench of the broth was permeating the nearby hallways now. When Thisbe arrived, Dev was already there with the Revinir, checking the cauldrons that they’d covered and left simmering over a slowly dying fire all night. Dev stoked the fires and added wood as Thisbe unharnessed her dragon bones.
“That’s the last load you’ll need to bring for this batch of product,” said the Revinir, tasting the broth. She wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting,” she said. “It’s perfect.”
Dev flashed an “I told you so” glance at Thisbe, and it was true—to the Revinir, bad was good. Scarcity increased demand. What other weird lesson would Thisbe learn today?
“Now we’ll have to make the new broth equally as bad,” the Revinir declared.
“New broth? Won’t it all taste the same?” asked Thisbe. “It’s just bones and water.”
“You’ll see soon enough.” The Revinir took a cup and dipped it in the dragon-bone broth. She handed it to Dev. “Drink up,” she said. “Let’s see how strong it is.”
Dev closed his eyes momentarily, as if he was resigned to doing this thing he didn’t want to do. He plugged his nose, then took a few swallows. He almost gagged, but held it down. Then he took a few more breaths and finished the cup. “Blech!” he said when he finished. “That is just . . . the worst. It gives me a stomachache.”
“Lift your sleeve,” said the Revinir, who didn’t seem to care.
Dev shoved his sleeve up, revealing the scales. As they looked on, a few more scales appeared and blended in with the existing ones.
“Hmm,” said the woman. She turned to Thisbe, her eyes narrowed, then scooped another cup of broth. “Drink it,” she said, shoving it at her.
“Who, me? No!” said Thisbe, though she was curious about it.
“Soldiers,” called the Revinir. Three soldiers came running. They pulled out their weapons. The Revinir turned back to Thisbe. “Drink it!”
“Sheesh.” Thisbe, unnerved, took the cup in her shaky hand. She looked at Dev, who had dropped his gaze. Her heart fluttered in her chest, as if she sensed her life was about to change forever, and she gasped a little in fear. “I can’t do it,” she said.
One of the soldiers stepped closer, a menacing look on his face.
“Do it!” said the Revinir.
“Okay!” said Thisbe, shrinking back. She closed her eyes and pressed the warm cup to her lips. She tipped it and took a sip, swallowing it down. It was awful.
“Hurry up,” said the Revinir. “I’ve got things to do today.”
Now that she’d taken the first bit and there was no undoing it, the rest went down more easily. She took a few swallows, grimaced, and then finished it. It made her feel a little bit dizzy. Her arms and legs began tingling.
“Your arm,” prompted the Revinir.
Thisbe pushed her sleeve up and held her arm out. A smattering of iridescent scales pushed out of her skin. She stared at them. “Oh my,” she breathed, equally horrified and curious. They’d sprouted from her body, which was weird. But they were beautiful.
“It’s too strong,” declared the Revinir. “Dilute it with water to twice the volume. Then bottle it up to be sold. Don’t spill any—not a drop!” With that, she dashed off.
The soldiers left the kitchen too and settled in their usual spot by the hallway. Dev and Thisbe looked at each other. Then Thisbe examined her arms and legs again and tried unsuccessfully to pull one of the scales out. “This is . . . horrifying. I think.”
“I mean, you get used to it,” said Dev, looking cautiously at Thisbe. “It’s really sort of interesting. Unique, you know?”
But Thisbe was overwhelmed. Even coming from a magical world, she’d never seen or experienced anything like this. It was one thing to discover the larger-than-life Revinir sporting the scales, but to have felt them sprout from her own skin and to see them shining now—it was nothing less than extraordinary. She was forever changed. A human with dragon scales! And it had happened with such negativity and force, and so little fanfare or joy, which felt wrong for such a beautiful thing. It seemed like it could be so great to take on a dragon property like this, yet it had been done in such a degrading way that Thisbe was having a terrible time trying to figure out how to feel about it.
She crouched and looked at her legs, and slid her finger over her shin, feeling a surprising softness. This was so strange that she couldn’t quite grasp what it meant for her. Would the scales ever go away?
“Are you okay?” asked Dev, looking at Thisbe curiously. “It’s a little bit of an odd feeling, isn’t it? Like . . . losing a tooth. It takes a couple days for it to feel normal.”
Thisbe nodded. She definitely felt odd, not just physically, but mentally, too. Almost like she had gained an unspecified amount of knowledge, though she couldn’t pinpoint any topics. She felt older, though that wasn’t quite it either. “Wiser,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Dev said emphatically. He knew exactly what she meant. Then he turned quickly, embarrassed by his own enthusiasm over Thisbe’s sudden change. Perhaps he felt less alone because of it. He fumbled with a cart filled with tiny empty bottles, then remembered they needed to dilute the broth first and went after a bucket of water. “I told you it tastes awful.”
“Yes. It’s like dirt and mustiness,” said Thisbe, wondering if her fate had been instantly changed by this. Perhaps not. All she knew was that her desire to escape was stronger than ever. Would this newfound wisdom help her understand the Revinir a bit better? Could she anticipate the woman’s motives more successfully now? Maybe it could help her get out of here.
Her mind turned to that dilemma as she absently stroked her arm, trying to get used to the surprising softness of the scales. When she brushed her hand down over them, they lay smooth and flat. But when she brushed upward, they stood uncomfortably, tugging at her skin. She didn’t like that feeling, so she smoothed everything downward again.
Dev’s water bucket clanged against the side of his cauldron, bring
ing Thisbe back to the task at hand. She realized that he was doing all the work while she had just been standing there. “Sorry,” she said, and began helping to dilute the broth. She could feel the scales slice the air.
“It’s okay,” said Dev generously, going back for more water. “I get it.”
Thisbe marveled a bit longer, but her thoughts eventually returned to escaping again. She knew with certainty that she needed to work on Dev some more—and with the new scales, they had something extraordinary in common. That could serve to bring them closer. And he was being decent today, at least, so she wanted to take advantage of it. As they worked, she thought about the previous day and realized she’d never gotten the whole story behind why Dev was sent away from the castle. Maybe talking about that would also serve to strengthen her trust in him a little.
“So . . . what actually happened to bring you here?” asked Thisbe. “You said Shanti sent you away because you helped Fifer.”
“Yes,” said Dev. “That was part of it.”
“Why wouldn’t she want you to help her?”
Dev shrugged. “Shanti assumed Fifer would die. She was mad that she wouldn’t get the money from selling her at the auction after she was counting on her.”
Perhaps because of the Revinir’s teachings about the marketplace, or because of the wisdom from the dragon-bone broth, Thisbe, who’d never spent money in any form before, was beginning to understand how and why it was used to trade for things. But she still thought money was a waste of time. “In Artimé, we don’t use money. Nobody buys or sells things.We just have them. Or we give each other things if we need something. I guess we don’t need gold if we have magic.” She thought for a moment, landing back on what Dev had said about Shanti. “Wait. The princess didn’t want you to help a severely injured person because she was losing money over it?”
