PEACE AGREEMENT TO BE UPHELD: A WAR ON REBELS BEGINS,says the first headline.
A war on rebels.
I think back to my parents’ many late-night conversations. All this time, they must have been discussing secret meetings or attacks or whatever it is rebels discuss. How could they do that to me, to Marquis, to Ursa? I read the rest of the headlines, trying to calm my breathing.
LONDON ATTACKED BY HUMAN-DRAGON COALITION IN COUP D’ÉTAT
FROM PROTEST TO PUTSCH – BRITANNIA’S FIRST INTERSPECIES PARTY DECLARES WAR
MASS BREAKOUT FROM GRANGER’S PRISON
I tap my foot nervously against the floor. It’s no wonder Rita Hollingsworth refused to publish Mama’s latest papers if the government knew she was a rebel. But the idea of the Academy discouraging the learning of dragon tongues sounds extreme – surely Hollingsworth doesn’t agree with that? I screw the paper into a ball and toss it to the floor. The train shudders suddenly, pulling away from the station. I throw myself at the window.
‘My cousin!’ I shout at the Guardians. ‘He’s not here!’
A burst of flames hits the platform.
I flinch and stumble backwards, hitting my knee on the arm of the seat. The Guardians turn, lifting their guns skywards, as a dragon crashes through the glass roof of the station. People flee in every direction, their screams almost inaudible amid the sound of smashing glass and screeching iron. The dragon’s belly, a violent purple, skims the platform as its spiked tail sends a stone pillar crumbling. It turns its head towards the luggage office, its hexagonal scales glistening as though forged from metal, and the horns beneath its chin impale a porter’s trolley and lift it into the air. The last thing I see as the train drives through the raining shards is the Guardians who escorted me engulfed in flames.
The door to the carriage opens with a bang and I spin round.
Standing in the doorway, his hair tangled and a bruising cut beneath his eye, is Marquis. I burst into tears. Marquis almost falls across the carriage to get to me and then I am breathing in the sweet, familiar smell of home.
‘All right?’ he says gruffly, as if we’re merely meeting for alecture. And then, ‘How the fuck did you get me out of there, Viv?’
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ I say quietly as we break apart. ‘I thought she lied to me.’
‘Who?’
‘Wyvernmire.’
‘You met Wyvernmire?’
I nod. We sit down, and for a moment we just stare out at the tall grey buildings flashing by as the train leaves London.
‘What happened out there?’ Marquis says.
‘A dragon attacked the station,’ I reply. ‘Set fire to the platform. I think the Guardians escorting me were killed.’
‘Good riddance,’ Marquis mutters.
I shudder and point to the cut on his face. ‘Did they do that to you?’
‘Yes, and the next thing I knew they were telling me my cousin had negotiated my release.’ He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘Viv, can you please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?’
I tell him everything, from leaving Ursa with Sophie’s parents to the meeting with Wyvernmire. He replies with a string of foul language.
‘You cut a detonator out of the library dragon?’
‘I did worse than that,’ I croak. ‘I started a war.’
Marquis smiles. ‘Youstarted a war?’
‘What Chumana did – what I helped her do – was a direct breach of the Peace Agreement,’ I say. ‘The rebels saw it as some sort of green light, and now there’s a civil war, and it’s all my fault.’
Marquis pulls a bag of tobacco out of his boot.
‘The rebels have been planning a coup for months,’ he says, reaching for a rolling paper. ‘We all knew it was coming. You’ve read the papers – you’ve evenseenone of their protests for yourself.’
