I blink.
‘Your family is currently facing the death penalty,’ she continues. ‘Your sister will be orphaned and placed in a Third Class children’s home and the people currently caring for her will be punished for harbouring the child of rebels—’
‘No!’ I say. ‘They’re only doing what any decent person would do.’
Wyvernmire’s expression turns cold.
‘I am offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,’ she says. ‘I am offering you a job.’
A job?
I suddenly see myself in a labour camp, my life flashing before my eyes in one continuous stream of pain and drudgery.
‘Should you accept – and excel – then, and only then, will you and your family be pardoned.’
My heart leaps.
Is this real?
‘Your parents and uncle will be unable to exercise their current professions. However, they will be permitted to seek work elsewhere,’ Wyvernmire says. ‘You will be allowed to return to your studies, having proved your loyalty to the government once and for all.’
‘And my cousin?’ I say. ‘He’s the most innocent of all of us.’
‘He will also be pardoned.’
I let out a shaky breath. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive Mama and Dad for what they’ve done, but at least I can save their lives. At least I can bring them home.
‘What is the job?’
‘I’m afraid you won’t be told until you get there.’ Wyvernmire glances at the gold watch on her wrist. ‘Do you accept?’
I force myself to pause, to take a sip of lukewarm tea, to pretend I have a choice in the matter.
‘Where will my family be in the meantime?’
‘At Highfall.’
My stomach lurches. So theyarehere.
‘And my sister and her … carers? They’ll be safe?’
‘Of course,’ Wyvernmire replies. ‘Unless you fail to carry out the work given to you.’
I nod slowly, hope flooding my body. The sunlight hits the window, surrounding the Prime Minister in a golden glow. Here is the woman I have long admired – fair and dignified, who commands respect like a man. Among the first of Britannia’s women to attend university, she has achieved as much for the nation as Hollingsworth has for the Academy. Wyvernmire is just doing her job, I realise. The job that keeps society running. The one that has kept the alliance between the British humans and dragons – hanging by a thread thanks to me – intact. And now she’s offering me the opportunity to erase the past two days as if they were just one terrible dream.
Your languages saved you, Vivien, and they’ll save you again.
‘All right,’ I say. ‘But I have one condition.’
‘You are hardly in a position to bargain.’
‘My cousin Marquis. He’s clever – he studies dragon anatomy. Give him a job, too.’
Wyvernmire stares at me. ‘No.’
‘He can’t stay here; he’s done nothing wrong!’ I feel braver, buoyed by the realisation that the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom has just suggested sheneedsme. ‘Take us both,’ I say, ‘and we’llbothhelp you win this war.’
She studies my face for a long time, as if seeking out a lie.
