The dead Third Class girl’s face flashes before my eyes.
‘But the dragonfire on Downing Street was the tipping point. Wyvernmire said so—’
‘Sounds like she’s trying to get you to blame yourself,’ Marquis says, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. ‘When really she knew just as much as the next person that this war was coming.’
‘The only reason we still have a Peace Agreement is because she didn’t order her army to retaliate,’ I say bitterly. ‘What I did … it could have created a war between species.’
‘Seems to me you’re giving yourself credit for something much bigger than you are.’
I frown. ‘I don’t want any credit for this,’ I say. ‘I want nothing to do with the rebels.’
We fall silent as my words land heavy in the space between us.
‘Did you know?’ I say, looking my cousin in the eye. ‘About our parents?’
Marquis breathes smoke out through his teeth. ‘Don’t be stupid. Did you?’
‘No.’ My lip trembles and I bite it to keep it still.
‘How long have they been part of it, do you think?’ I say.
‘The rebellion? From what I’ve read, the coalition between rebel humans and rebel dragons is fairly new. And, knowingyour mama, it was the dragons that got her involved.’
‘But why would they be part of it at all?’ I say. ‘Their lives were perfectly fine, good even—’
‘I don’t think it was abouttheirlives,’ Marquis says. ‘It’s about the lives of the Third Class, about the injustices done to dragons on behalf of the Peace Agreement—’
‘Injustices?’ I reply. ‘What are you talking about? The dragonsagreedto the Peace Agreement. That and the Class System have both worked fine for years.’
‘It’s not all good, though, is it?’
I look at him expectantly.
‘The restriction of movement for starters,’ Marquis says.
I roll my eyes. ‘The Travel Ban exists to stop overcrowding.’
‘If it had existed back when the Massacre of Bulgaria happened, your mama would be dead and you wouldn’t be here,’ Marquis replies.
I close my eyes, remembering how the Guardian called Mama a Bulgarian leech. My cousin is right about that.
‘And it doesn’t seem fair that there are things we can do, places we can go, that the Third Class can’t.’
I was twelve when I saw a girl being physically removed from the public library because she was Third Class. They searched her, emptying her pockets of pages ripped from Dickens’sA Christmas Carol. I was shocked by her vandalism, but even more so by her determination to access literature. The Class System feeds ambition, Uncle Thomas explained later. Would the girl have wanted to read that book so desperately if she’d been allowed to? Would I be such a good student if, like Dad said, I didn’t have the threat of theThird Class hanging over my head?
‘Doesn’t it bother you that you’re learning dragon tongues in a country that keeps interaction between humans and dragons to the bare minimum?’ Marquis says.
‘Wedointeract with dragons,’ I say indignantly. ‘We walk past the nest on top of the British Library every day, and there’s that silver dragon who counts money at the bank …’ I pause, trying to remember her name. ‘Sheba.’
‘And how many times have you spoken to Sheba?’ Marquis replies coolly. ‘They say that before the Peace Agreement there were dragons everywhere. And, up until a couple of decades ago, they were still treated as humans’ equals. My dad told me that he and my mother werefriendswith some of them. With dragons, Viv!’
I stare out at the cow fields flashing by. Marquis’s mother, my Aunt Florence, died when he was born. Her family is from North Carolina, where human babies and dragonlings share nests. Marquis has only been to see them once, before the Travel Ban.
He blows smoke out of the tiny sliding window. ‘All I’m saying is that the Peace Agreement and the Class System might not be as wonderful as you think they are.’
‘I’ve heard the rumours,’ I say, thinking of the hushed conversations about secret clauses and a rigged voting system I’ve heard on campus. ‘And, quite frankly, I’m surprised you’ve let the fear-mongering get to you.’
‘And I’mnotsurprised to hear you call something fear-mongering just because you don’t understand it,’ Marquis retorts.
