‘You are Marguerite?’ Aodahn says.
‘Yes,’ she replies softly. ‘My parents and I lived with you before you disappeared.’
‘I remember!’ Aodahn says delightedly. He glances at Cindra as she comes forward, sniffing the air as if searching for a lie. She turns to him, communicating silently.
‘You’ve met these wyverns before?’ I say to Hollingsworth, my voice shaking. ‘You’ve lived on this island, you speak Cannair? And yet you sent me here blind?’
‘You have lied to us all,’ Chumana spits.
‘You could have found the wyverns yourself!’ I shout at her.
‘Found the wyverns myself?’ Hollingsworth says calmly. ‘Vivien, I am sixty-five years old. I no longer have the strength to go traipsing across an uncharted island, no matter how much I wanted to return to the place of my earliest, sweetest memories. I cannot remember more than a few words of Cannair. And you forget who I am. If I had simply run off to Canna, our cover would have been blown.’
‘So that’s why you had Clawtail’s diary,’ I say. ‘It didn’t belong to the Academy. You got it from your family.’
‘From my mother,’ Hollingsworth says with a nod. ‘After the government killed my father, we were relocated to England, forgiven for our family’streasonas long as we assumed new identities. Of course, I never forgot our lives with the wyverns, even as their language began to fade from my young mind. There was barely a trace of our past left until I founded the Academy, secretly in honour of my father.’
Out of the corner of my eye I see Aodahn move. He reaches inside the pouch where his egg should be and pulls out a tiny, gold ring.
‘Patrick’s wedding band,’ he says, holding it out in his large, clumsy talons.
Hollingsworth’s eyebrows knit together in surprise as she takes the ring. It sits next to its partner in the palm of her hand.
‘Then you were a friend of my father’s?’
‘Indeed, dear one,’ Aodahn says. ‘He taught me English and I taught him Cannair.’ His eyes grow wide. ‘It was with me thatyoulearned to read.’
The apples of Hollingsworth’s cheeks turn a rosy pink andher lipsticked mouth trembles. I glance up at the sky as more dragons land around us, rebels I’ve never met jumping off their backs. But where are Goranov and Krasimir? Where are the Bolgoriths?
‘Aodahn,’ Hollingsworth says. ‘My recruits have spoken to you of the war our country is fighting, of the invasion of the Bulgarian dragons, which you have now witnessed for yourselves.’ She looks at the other wyverns and her eyes land on Cindra. ‘I have come to ask you to use your Koinamens to help rid Britannia of these invaders. I know it is sacred to you, a secret best kept among dragons. We rebel humans have fought to protect it, but I come begging you to share it, once now in return for our eternal gratitude and respect, and then never again. Without it, our country is doomed to become the stomping ground of Bulgarian Bolgoriths, and our own humans and dragons mere food and slaves.’
‘But how can ourSmuainswelhelp you?’ Aodahn asks.
‘Together,’ Hollingsworth says softly, ‘the Hebridean Wyverns can echolocate a call strong enough to kill one of the Bulgarian leaders. He, in turn, is so intimately bonded to his two siblings, that I believe they will suffer the effects of the call through him, and perish also.’
Daria’s tail curls like a snake.
‘Patrick would never have asked this of us,’ Cindra snaps in Cannair.
‘You’re right,’ I reply in the same tongue. ‘Youmustrefuse, Cindra. If you use yourSmuainswel,every human and dragon in the world will know who you are and what you can do.’
Hollingsworth opens her mouth to speak, but changes hermind when Chumana takes a step forward.
‘Humans will try to turn you into a weapon,’ I continue, switching back to English. ‘Dragons will try to kill you. You won’t be respected, only feared. Fear breeds hatred, Cindra, and you will be the most hated dragons in Europe.’
‘TheBulgarian Bolgorithsare the most hated dragons in Europe,’ Hollingsworth cries. ‘Is their power not respected? Our country will fall to them, just like their own country fell. Wemustfight them with a weapon they are not expecting us to use. And not only do you have such a weapon, but you have an optimised version. A version that will save us all. Cindra, I implore you.’
Chumana snaps at Hollingsworth and she jumps backwards, the colour draining from her face.
‘The wyverns will fight alongside you, girl with the golden machine,’ Cindra says. ‘But with our teeth.’ She glares at Hollingsworth. ‘Not our minds.’
I nod, relief flooding me, and I see the tremble in Hollingsworth’s hands as she turns away. She stalks across the grass, stopping only when she reaches the edge of the hill to stare at the horizon.
‘Bolgoriths,’ Serena says sharply.
A whole horde of them is flying towards us from inland and opposite, and soaring in from across the sea are yet more rebel dragons. Small black figures drop from their hulking backs into the shallows, carrying their weapons as bullets begin to spray.
‘There are more of us than I expected,’ I say quietly, hope brimming.
