Atlas pushes me out of the way as the plane jerks forward with a roar and Marquis stares at me through the cockpit window. I shake my head at him and he says something to Serena. Then the plane jolts forward again and hurtles out of the workshop and across the grounds before lifting into the air.
‘What did you just say?’ Atlas says.
‘I’ve got to be Wyvernmire’s translator,’ I say. ‘It’s the only hope we have of controlling the Bulgarians—’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ he spits. ‘That’s the opposite of what the Coalition stands for—’
‘Look around you, Atlas!’ I shout. ‘Soon there will be no Coalition left. The Bulgarians are here, and you can be sure more are coming. If Wyvernmire has no way of listening in on them, no possibility of control, then Britannia will become dragon country. You know as well as I do that this new alliance is just temporary. And this war we’ve been fighting, rebels versus government, is nothing compared to what will happen when Queen Ignacia learns she’s been betrayed and the Bulgarians decide that Wyvernmire is just a thorn in their side. All we can do now is help our people, our country—’
Atlas seethes. ‘So we just give up? Bow down to the Bulgarians, to Wyvernmire?’
I’ll never give the Koinamens to Wyvernmire, never let her know how mastering it could give her power she’s only dreamed of. But I can use what I’ve learned to spy on the Bulgarian dragons, to make sure they can’t betray her, to protect Britannia and the rebels at the same time.
‘For now,’ I say gently. ‘Until we find a way to fight them. I’ll give Wyvernmire a fake code, let her think that I’m with her, and, when she realises what she’s done by letting the Bulgarians into the country, maybe she’ll …’
The rest of my sentence is drowned out by the sound of Marquis’s plane overhead. It circles once above the forest beyond and, as it rises, flames burst out from beneath the nose.
I can almost hear Marquis’s whoop of triumph.
A fire-breathing plane.
‘I thoughtthiswas what I was supposed to be doing,’ Atlas says. ‘That if it isn’t to be a priest then maybe it’s to fight for change with you. To defend people,mypeople, the Third Class and the dragons.’
His voice breaks and I take his hands and kiss them.
‘I know,’ I say. ‘And maybe it is. The Coalition – the rebel cause – isn’t just here inside Bletchley. It’s out there.’ I gesture beyond the fighting and the broken gates. ‘You’re the man who risked his life to save just one person, when you hid him back in your church. Just because we’ve lost this battle doesn’t mean it’s all over.’
He takes a step back. ‘But I’ve still failed. All this time, I was readying myself to lead the battle. We planned the attack for months—’
‘That’s just your pride talking,’ I say. ‘Believe me, I know.’
He stares at me with red-rimmed eyes.
‘There’s another loquisonus machine, in the woods,’ I say.
‘I thought they both burned in the glasshouse—’
‘I hid the one you didn’t get to break. But not for me,’ Isay quickly. ‘It was to communicate with the rebel dragons, in case Chumana didn’t hear my message. But we can use it to spy on the Bulgarians, to learn their calls and make sure we stay one step ahead. Language – that’s how we rebel.’
‘The Coalition’s dragons will never agree,’ Atlas says. ‘How can you even suggest it, after everything Chumana told you—’
‘They might if it’s the only thing that can save us,’ I say fiercely. ‘And afterwards we’ll make sure no human can ever use a loquisonus machine again. We can still beat the Bulgarians and win this new war.’
Atlas’s gaze fixes on to mine, wary of this last beacon of hope.
‘I trusted you when you said that I should tell Sophie the truth, that I could be forgiven,’ I say. ‘Helping people, that’s kind of your speciality, right? That’s howyou’recalled to love. Well, language is mine. You said so yourself, remember?’
I stroke his cheek as we remember that moment by the dragon-egg statue.
‘Now I need you to trustme, Atlas.’
He leans forward, his face like a bewildered child’s, and kisses me.
‘I trust you, Viv.’
‘Then we need to go back to the glasshouse.’
Burning bodies and the corpse of a dragon litter the grounds as we tear back past the manor and into the forest. The trees around us are on fire, too, and in the middle of them the glasshouse is melted and black. There’s no sign of Ralph. I cough and retch as smoke fills my eyes, kicking around in the undergrowth until I see it. The golden speaker of theloquisonus machine sticking out through the leaves. I check it’s intact, the glass and metal almost too hot to touch, then turn to Atlas.
