Soresten and Addax are siblings, just like Rhydderch and Muirgen. So theydocome from the same region.
‘My maxim,’ he continues, ‘reflects an encounter we had back then with a group of local humans who thought they might be able to catch and tame one of us dragonlings.’
‘What is it?’ I ask politely.
Soresten’s chest seems to inflate. ‘Nullam dominum nisi arenam et mare.No master but sand and sea.’
‘That’s beautiful. And the encounter with those humans? How did that end?’
‘My mother ate them,’ Soresten replies. ‘One could resolve one’s problems rather quickly, you see, before the Peace Agreement.’
I nod, speechless, and pull the door to the glasshouse open.Soresten is still monologuing about relations between dragons and humans when I step into the warm, pulling off my gloves to stretch my cold-bitten fingers. Behind a wall of foliage created by Dr Seymour’s ever-growing plant collection, she’s talking to someone.
‘I have experience in these matters, as you know. The Freikorps posted me to the dragon battle behaviour regiment during my time in Germany.’
My stomach drops. It’s Ralph. What’s he doing here?
‘I have a degree in Dragon Behaviour and Biology, Guardian 707,’ Dr Seymour says, ‘and another in Firedrake Fight or Flight Theory. And, in case you weren’t aware, the latest version of the loquisonus machine ismyinvention.’
I peer through the leaves. Dr Seymour is standing at the makeshift coffee-making station, washing up yesterday’s dirty mugs. Ralph is sitting on the plush sofa, his gun slung lazily across his knees.
‘Of course, how could I forget Dolores Seymour’s brilliant career?’ he mocks. ‘How many men did you invite into your bed to get here?’
There’s the tinkling of smashing china in the sink. Dr Seymour’s shoulders tense as she turns round slowly, her lip curling in disgust.
‘Tell me, 707, why it is that you’re here at dawn, begging for my job, when we both know you’re too much of a liability for the Prime Minister to ever trust you withanyof her combat strategies, least of all this one?’
Ralph jumps to his feet, seizing his gun, and I open the door to the glasshouse and slam it, hard.
‘Morning, Dr Seymour,’ I call airily. ‘Is there any coffee ready?’
‘Vivien?’ Dr Seymour says. I can hear the relief in her voice. ‘Guardian 707 is here to give us a bit of extra … assistance.’
I step through the leaves.
‘I heard you were almost murdered last night,’ Ralph jeers. He stares at my healed arm. ‘Don’t you seem to be in the wars?’
‘Not as much as you,’ I mutter quietly, eyeing the cut on his nose.
How did word of Gideon’s attack get around so quickly?
‘That idiot went to Ravensloe in the middle of the night and told him what he’d done,’ Ralph says. ‘Said that you haverebel leaningsand should be removed from the programme.’ He takes a step towards me. ‘Is that true?’
I stare up at him, trying to ignore the fear palpitating in my heart. The memory of the pain of my arm snapping still takes my breath away.
‘Gideon is a frightened little boy who feels threatened by the intelligence of the women he finds himself surrounded by.’ I look from Ralph to Dr Seymour. ‘We’ve met his kind before.’
The corners of Dr Seymour’s mouth twitch. The door swings open again and Gideon walks in, followed by Sophie and Katherine. He takes one look at us and bows his head, then sits down in front of a loquisonus machine. There’s a bandage round his head, holding a piece of gauze to the wound beneath his eye.He’s the one who should be removed from the programme for trying to kill another recruit. If he’s still here, then Ravensloe must be getting desperate.
I take a seat opposite him and pretend to be engrossed in my logbook. My throat aches. The bruises on my neck look worse this morning, but I’ve concealed them by turning up the collar of my jacket. I hide my face behind my hair and stare at Gideon, at his red cheeks and freckled nose. Physically, he’s stronger than I would have given him credit for. But I know that mentally he’s barely keeping it together. Last night was his own stupid attempt at surviving. Did he plan on killing Katherine and Sophie after he got rid of me?
Sophie.
She’s talking in a low voice to Katherine, both of them casting nervous glances at Gideon. If I crack the dragon code, I’ll be leaving her behind. She doesn’t know it’s my fault she’s here in the first place. Is this the world’s way of telling me that it’s too late to make up for what I did in the summer? Is Atlas’s God up there laughing at me for thinking I could somehow avoid the consequences of that one reckless choice?
I slam my logbook shut, but Gideon doesn’t even look up. If I decipher echolocation, Sophie will spend her life at Granger’s Prison and Gideon and Katherine will go back to whatever hell Wyvernmire plucked them from. If I don’t, my family and I will die and Ursa will be orphaned. Whatever happens, I’ll have lost something I can never get back.
‘I need a break,’ I call across the room.
