My heart quickens and Chumana’s eyes bore into mine.
‘She gave me an opportunity. The opportunity to fly straightto the Coalition and attempt to make up for my crimes. An opportunity to atone for my sins and seek forgiveness. Now tell me, human girl, why don’t you extend yourself the same courtesy?’
More rain droplets fall on to my face, one after another. They drip into my hair and down the neck of my shirt as I stare at the Bulgarian dragon in front of me, Chumana the murderer.
‘I don’t deserve forgiveness,’ I say. ‘And neither do you.’
‘Few of us deserve forgiveness, child,’ says Chumana. ‘But answer me this. Where would I be more useful: in that library, rotting into the mulch of my own guilt? Dead from a purposely exploded detonator? Or flying free, helping to bring victory to the rebels?’
I shiver and stare at the rapidly expanding puddles at my feet, wondering how many battles Chumana has helped the rebels win since she joined them. How many documents did she salvage from the Academy of Draconic Linguistics before Wyvernmire took power there? How many lives has she saved?
If she had refused to leave that library when I asked her to, or used that detonator to kill herself, fewer people would be alive right now. My parents certainly wouldn’t be. And the rebel movement would have one less dragon.
But who is she to claim forgiveness for herself? She’s not the one who lost her country, her family, her life.
‘What are you suggesting?’ I explode. ‘That Sophie just forgets what I did to her? That the Bulgarian survivors forget the role you played in history? It can’t be as easy as just saying sorry, Chumana!’
‘No, it can’t,’ Chumana replies. ‘Butshowingyou’re sorry and spending a lifetime proving it? Now that’s another thing entirely.’
I shake my head. This is just Atlas’s spew of holy half-truths all over again. And I know what showing I’m sorry means. It means keeping the Koinamens a secret from Wyvernmire. Only that might give the rebels a chance at winning, free the Third Class from the suffering that pushed Katherine, Dodie and Gideon to desperate measures, and keep Wyvernmire from enslaving Britannia’s dragons.
But what if I help the rebels, and then they fail? I’ll never be the most famous dragon linguist in the world, that’s for sure. My parents will both be dead. And I will have lost all chance of finding Ursa.
To keep the code a secret would be a noble, selfless choice. But I am neither of those things. Why would I risk losing everything I love for the rebels?
Because you’re good, I imagine Atlas saying.Because if you feel guilty that’s a sure sign there’s more good than bad in you.
Can that be true? In the face of everything I’ve done – sending Sophie to the Third Class where she had her heart shattered over and over, leaving Ursa, almost handing over the code to Wyvernmire – can there still be goodness in me?
‘You have fought for your family admirably,’ Chumana says. ‘You refused to turn Dr Seymour in. You offered to heal me, a rebel dragon, with that unsightly machine. Those are not the choices ofWyvernmire’s type of person.’
I warm at the memory of Dr Seymour’s compassion, of Atlas’s lips on mine, of Sophie asleep in my bed, of that sparkof pride I refused to let myself feel when Marquis told me that he wanted to be a rebel.
Chumana isn’t lying. These are not the choices and memories of a bad person, but of a good one who refuses to forgive herself for the bad things she has done.
Because it’s easier to betray your best friend for your career, to sacrifice the entire Third Class for your family, to give Wyvernmire the means to experiment on dragon eggs when you believe you were simply born bad.
But if you’re good? Then your goodness and those choices are not compatible.
I blink, staring at my reflection in the puddle at my feet.
But if you’re good, I tell myself slowly,then the people and the dragons you’re about to hurt will be harmed because you choose to hurt them. Not because hurting them is an unavoidable part of your nature, but because you’ve decided they don’t matter.
The thought takes my breath away. I chose to betray Sophie out of my own selfishness. Surely that makes me just as evil as Wyvernmire and Queen Ignacia?
I look up at Chumana, the grey clouds pale against her dark, wet scales.
‘I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for what I did,’ I whisper, feeling hot tears overflow again.
‘You don’t have to forgive yourself,’ Chumana growls. ‘Not yet. But you can offer yourself a second chance.’
A second chance.
‘If you don’t, then all your suffering, and all the suffering you caused others, will be for nothing.’
I let out a shaky breath and shiver, my clothes as wet asthe muddy water now trickling down the sides of the ditch. I can’t forgive myself for how I hurt Sophie. And Sophie might never forgive me, which I’ll never, ever blame her for. But if I can offer myself a second chance then maybe I can do things differently. I can choose to live a life where what’s important isn’t what I can achieve – grades, social class, career – but the type of person I can be.
‘I do want to prove that I’m sorry,’ I say to Chumana, raising my voice above the sound of the rain. ‘Even though I don’t believe that any amount of sorry will make up for the pain I caused Sophie.’
