‘We found that out days ago,’ I said. ‘When we heard Soresten say the same thing two different ways.’
‘But Dr Seymour and I haveconfirmedthe theory throughfurther observation of the patrol dragons,’ Gideon says with a smug smile. ‘We don’t know how the various meanings differ from each other yet – it might be a question of tone or register – but we’ll soon find out.’
I glance out of the window so Gideon can’t see the fury in my face. Wasn’t I the one to suggest the theory to Dr Seymour in the first place? Now Gideon is getting all the credit, while I’m being accused of trying to desert my post.
‘Is Atlas out yet?’ I ask Marquis.
He’s perched on the arm of the sofa Karim is sitting on. He shakes his head.
‘I’ve seen Ralph, though,’ Marquis says, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘It looks like he won’t be removing his helmet for a while.’
Did Atlas really do that? I thought priests were supposed to be calm, restrained, peaceful.
Rain begins to splatter across the windows, gradually getting heavier until it becomes hard to hear each other talk. I hope it’s raining in London and that it puts out the rest of the dragonfire. Sophie is staring into the fog. She must be thinking of her parents, and I can’t think of anything to say to her. I feel a surge of anger for my own parents and Uncle Thomas. Was this what they wanted when they decided to join the rebels? For London to burn? For their children to live through another war?
Gideon loads wood on to the fire and Katherine pulls sandwiches and a chocolate cake out of the basket.
‘They say picnics are good for convalescing,’ she says to me with a wink.
I want to tell her that I don’t give a dragon’s arse about her picnic because my sister might be dead, but then she smiles at me so genuinely that I say nothing. I sit on the rug and lean back against the side of the sofa, kicking off my shoes. Dodie hands me a glass of lime cordial and Serena nods towards my bandaged arm, her eyebrows raised.
‘You’re even more stubborn than I thought,’ she says. ‘Couldn’t you have just done as you were told? If you had, Atlas wouldn’t be in isolation.’
I glare at her, trying to decide which part of this absurd suggestion to argue with first.
‘She’s not stubborn,’ Dodie says with a frown. ‘She’s dragon-hearted.’
Dragon-hearted.
Brave.
The compliment sends a warm feeling through me, and I give Dodie a surprised smile.
‘How long until you can use it again?’ she asks.
‘A few days,’ I reply. ‘The nurse gave me fireblod.’
The chatter falls silent as everyone turns to look at me.
‘Fireblod?’ Gideon says. ‘But that type of medicine is banned in Britannia.’
I shrug and take a bite of the salty chicken sandwich in front of me.
‘Not for the First Class,’ Sophie says. ‘They buy it by the gallon off the black market. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Gideon says, his eyes narrowing. ‘My family never—’
‘Perhaps your family sees the evil in harvesting blood fromcaptive juvenile dragons,’ Sophie says dryly. ‘But that’s not the case for everyone.’
I steal a glance at Serena. She doesn’t look as defensive as Gideon.
‘I was told it was only harvested from dragons who died of natural causes,’ Serena says.
‘Impossible,’ says Marquis. ‘The proteins would need to be taken from a live donor.’
Serena swallows. ‘In any case, fireblod has saved lives—’
‘Not everyone’s lives,’ Sophie spits. ‘The Third Class has never seen so much as a vial of it, or any other medicine, even though it could have—’
