Chumana gives a slow nod.
‘Wyvernmire has no idea there are rebel spies at Bletchley,’ I say. ‘No idea that the Coalition knows of the Bulgarian arrival. If you want to stop her from strengthening her army, then the time to attack is now, before she sends the Bulgarians to posts across the country.’
‘You have this well thought out, human girl. You would make a fine rebel.’
‘But if I give her the code, the Koinamens,’ I say slowly, ‘she might call off the alliance. Then no one would have to deal with the Bulgarian dragons.’
‘Such an act would be catastrophic to dragons,’ Chumana says. ‘With sophisticated loquisonus machines and expert translators to reproduce Koinamens calls, Wyvernmire might extort and infiltrate dragon communities, indoctrinate dragonlings, subjugate or even destroy entire species.’
I let out a deep sigh. ‘I did want to do the right thing, all right? I thought I could change but I can’t. And why would I now that Atlas has turned out to be a liar?’ I feel my tongue lace with fury. ‘I can’t help you, or the rebels, or the Third Class because that’s not the type of person I am.’
‘What type of person are you?’ Chumana says calmly.
‘The bad type,’ I whisper. ‘Wyvernmire’s type. The type that makes the ruthless, necessary decisions, no matter the cost, no matter how many people they hurt.’
‘Hmmm.’ Chumana lets out a throaty growl.
It’s a boring response. Not the one I wanted. But whatdoI want exactly? I feel anger wash over me and suddenly I want to humiliate Atlas as much as he has humiliated me, to see Dr Seymour’s face as I turn her over to Wyvernmire, to watch Chumana fly away, defeated. Why do I hate them so much?
It’s not them you hateI tell myself.It’s you.
I press my knuckles to my eyeballs as I see Sophie sinking to the ground with her Examination results in her hand. I see her alone in the halfway house with nothing to eat. I see herlying on top of Nicolas’s dead body in a Third Class hospital.
I take a deep, shaky breath. A drop of rain falls on my face.
‘Why did you come here?’ Chumana says softly.
‘To beg for your help,’ I say, glaring at her. ‘Is that what you want to hear?’
‘I think you came for a different reason.’
‘Of course you do,’ I say.
‘I’ve met too many humans with tortured souls.’
I snort. ‘I’m not sure I have a soul.’
I’m a bright shiny apple, rotten at the core.
‘Oh?’ Chumana murmurs. ‘I feel the same about myself.’
‘You’ve been shut away alone in the library for years, and all because of a student you didn’t even eat. Why wouldn’t you have a soul?’
‘You misremember,’ Chumana says. ‘I wasn’t imprisoned for hurting a student. I was imprisoned for protesting against the Peace Agreement.’
I shrug, thinking of how I asked her to break that very Peace Agreement by burning down a human-owned political building. ‘Aren’t we both guilty of that?’
‘And, fifty-eight years ago, I fought in the Massacre of Bulgaria.’
I stare at Chumana. ‘No, you didn’t.’
‘I am a Bolgorith, am I not?’
‘But … I thought you were hatched in Britannia.’
‘Yes,’ Chumana replies. ‘My egg was laid in Bulgaria and then flown across the sea in my mother’s pouch. I was hatched on Rùm, like most dragons of Britannia.’
‘So then, how …’
