Stressing Out

Maybe Florence will respond to your last send message,” said Dev. “Then you can reply to that one, right? That way you won’t have to use your last component.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” said Fifer. “Either way, they won’t be here for a couple of days, so we have time to decide whether to use this last send spell. I really want to save it in case I need to reach Thisbe, though.”

“Florence will be bringing more with her,” said Dev. “Won’t she? She’s the head of your army, after all.” Dev hadn’t ever met Florence, but he’d heard plenty about her over time.

“I’m sure whoever comes will have extra. But I don’t feel good at all about using the last one until I’m one hundred percent certain more are in my possession. As we both know, plans can change. And I’m not at all positive we’ll be able to have Florence come directly to us.” She balled her fists and pounded her forehead. “I can’t believe my precious birds are gone forever. I feel terrible. Shimmer was my friend.”

Dev didn’t know how to comfort her. She was distraught over it. So was he, but Fifer’s loss was much more personal. Plus, they’d been counting on the birds for later. Not having them would mess up their plans. And now, with Florence and whoever else was on the way, they had to figure out where to send them so that the dragons wouldn’t attack as they’d done with the birds.

And there was also the question of what to do with Dev. Because he was supposed to be dead, they didn’t want anyone from Artimé to know quite yet that he was alive. This was for the same reason that they needed their friends to truly believe Thisbe had joined the other side—because in case anyone was captured and forced to take in the dragon-bone broth, they couldn’t tell the Revinir the truth. Dev was safer dead than alive at this point, at least in the minds of everyone potentially vulnerable to the Revinir’s schemes. But now Dev was second-guessing his intentions to attempt to cross the property line shortly for his hideout in the village. He’d figured he’d be able to leave just as he’d been able to come, but now he wasn’t so sure. Besides, he wanted to be here for Fifer if she needed him, especially now that she didn’t have Shimmer. He also wanted to be in on the action. It was a risk, though, because he knew the truth about what Thisbe was doing. And if the Revinir captured him, that had the potential to mess up everything.

They went out to fish. Neither spoke for a long time, both lost in their thoughts as they crouched side by side along the bank, patiently holding the chain-mail net. Fifer was trying to figure out what to do with Florence and her team. And Dev was weighing the risks of staying at the palace. There was always one thing at the back of his mind… the fact that he felt like this palace belonged to him. And now that he actually had a place that was his, he was reluctant to leave it. And a little bit selfish, too. Because Fifer was forced to stay here, she got to remain in the comforts of the library. His library.

“Maybe I could hide out in the alcove,” Dev said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Fifer looked up, feeling an unexpected surge of hope at the idea. She didn’t want Dev to leave. It was too hard to communicate. Then she frowned. “Actually, if Florence and her team don’t come here, you might as well stay.”

“But where are you going to send them?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe the foothills on this side of the mountains. But I don’t know where the river flows.”

Dev plucked a stiff blade of grass and started chewing on it. “Why not reroute them to the cavelands? The land there is flat, the river flows through it, and there’s room for them to find shelter in the caves. Plus, they can talk to Astrid and the other ghost dragons.”

“I’ve never been there. How far away is it?”

“Half a day’s journey via ghost dragon.”

“That’s a bit far.”

“But it’ll be totally safe for them there. They can’t stay in Grimere. And the forest might be too dangerous with such a large party—the Revinir would learn of them soon enough, and the dragons use the dragon path. Besides, that’s probably just as far from here as the cavelands.”

Fifer spied a small fish coming their way and pointed at it. Dev nodded and slowly repositioned his end of the net. The fish got close, and the two scooped it up in one smooth motion. They pulled it onshore, and Fifer went for the fish knife to kill it and clean it while Dev returned to try for a second one. They made a good team. Everything would be harder if they were separated—like fishing, since there was only one net. And since neither of them knew when anybody else would be able to reach them because of the red dragons, it would be silly for Dev to leave now. It was a relief.

“I’m staying,” Dev whispered over his shoulder, barely catching Fifer’s eye before turning back to the river.

Fifer shoved a stick through the fish’s mouth. “Good.” She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “Besides, have you even tried to leave since you got here? The dragons might not let you.”

Dev was quiet as he spied their second course. He scooped up the fish and brought it over. “No. That’s been on my mind too. But I do want to try talking to the dragons a bit more.”

“Talking?” Fifer scoffed. She handed the knife to Dev, then went to the water to rinse her hands. “They just ignore me when I talk to them.”

“Roaring, then,” said Dev. He glanced at the dragon nearest them. The creature was alert but not looking at them. They’d made this trip to the river so many times that the dragons no longer seemed to get worried about them being so near this particular boundary. Perhaps they even thought that the two of them couldn’t or wouldn’t cross it. “At least they react to my roars. Don’t you think that indicates something?”

“Like what?”

“That I’m actually getting through the mind control.”

Fifer, who didn’t have much experience with the mind-control part of the Revinir’s powers, could only shrug. “All I know is that these are not nice dragons. And if they can scorch a flock of magical ravens into ash, they can do the same to you.” She stood up and turned to him. “And I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to you.”

Dev felt something thick rise to his throat. It wasn’t fire. It was something emotional. He remembered what the Revinir had told him. And he was angry that he kept thinking about it. That she had retained that amount of control over him. “When the Revinir…” His voice came out gravelly, and he cleared his throat. “Before she threw me out of the window, she said not one person in the world cared about me.”

Fifer looked up. Her eyes grew shiny. “And did you believe that monster?”

Dev’s bottom lip twitched, and he fought to still it. “Yes.”

Fifer held Dev’s gaze. “Well,” she said, “she was wrong.”