I lean in as he looks up and our faces are so close I can see the tiny grains of sand in his eyelashes.
‘All right.’ He smiles his crooked smile. ‘But don’t giveup your languages completely. I’ve always wanted to talk to a Pyrenees Python, so I’m going to need you to teach me Drageoir.’
Later, we step on to the ship. Its sails billow in the wind as the skippers, two Scottish rebels, help people embark.
‘Welcome aboardProvident,’ the woman says, pushing a tin at us. ‘Shortbread?’
‘God bless the Scots,’ Marquis mutters as he takes two slices.
I watch as Serena says goodbye to Cindra on the shore. Aodahn disappeared after the battle and I feel a pang of grief as I think of him mourning his egg up in the hills alone. What will this next war mean for the wyverns?
We find the others by the stern. Rebels file past us and down below decks, where beds and hot coffee are waiting. I see a big group of Canna kids, their pockets full of shortbread and other treats. Not one of them glances back at Canna and I realise it’s because for the first time ever, the prospect of returning to London, where many of them were Third Class, is not more terrifying than calling a dragon-infested island home.
But that’s only because they have no idea that the Bolgoriths will be back.
Ruth and her girls have disappeared, too. I stare over at Sanday, still and silent in the drifting smoke, and I know they’re waiting underground until they’re alone once more. Marquis, Karim, Gideon and Sophie are watching as the rebel dragons depart the beach in flight towards London. Serena and Freddie join them, talking quietly, and Jasper is liftingPhilippa up to touch the red sails. When they turn towards us, Atlas and I whisper the news given to us by Hollingsworth.
‘So London is just another battlefield?’ Serena says, blinking back tears. ‘I thought we were going home.’
Marquis stares out to sea, a pulse flicking in his jaw. I watch the anger and disappointment building in his eyes and don’t dare speak to him. A communal despair has drained any energy from the air. Freddie pats Serena’s back awkwardly as she begins to cry and Sophie swears before flouncing away below deck.
‘And here I was thinking I’d never have to see a Bolgorith again,’ Gideon mutters.
I concentrate on the thought of Ursa. I imagine her running towards me, probably a head taller than she used to be. I imagine spinning her around and inhaling the warm scent of home. When we get back to London, Hollingsworth will have my parents released from Highfall. This war may have changed my life forever, but I’m about to get the most important part of it back.
I glance at Atlas. ‘Your mother. Doesn’t she think you’re dead?’
He nods. ‘I’ll go to Bristol when we’re back, take her somewhere safe.’
This time will be different, I tell myself as we sail into open sea.This time,weare different. And we won’t be fighting alone.
I reach down to the loquisonus machine at my feet. Its metal is now warm from the sun and I stare at its dials, at the speaker used to hear the whisper of the wyvern Koinamens and Chumana’s greeting as she arrived on Canna to save me.I want to clutch it to my chest and keep it with me, but I know that won’t bring her or the dead wyverns back. I stand it on the edge of the boat. This isn’t the machine I learned to understand echolocation with, but it’s the one I had with me when I realised that languages – ultrasonic or otherwise – are not the sum total of who I am.
Marquis looks at me. ‘Viv, what are you doing?’
I push the loquisonus machine into the sea. We all watch in silence as it gets tossed by the swirl, a glint of gold on blue. Then it sinks, and with it, a version of Viv I’m leaving behind.
Both of them lost to the Hebridean waves.
A breeze hits my face. I see movement out of the corner of my eye but before I can turn, wings spread out in front of me, a canopy of black leather. An outstretched talon extends towards my face and next to it, slightly higher, a bloody stump.
‘Bolgorith!’ someone screams.
Around me, people hit the deck with their hands above their heads.
I move slowly, as if I’m still trudging through sand.
The wyvern Koinamens was supposed to have killed him.
Why isn’t he dead?
The talon scrapes my shoulder, but misses. I drop to the floor, feel Atlas’s arm around my waist. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of gulls and waves. I lift an arm and blink out at the sky.
‘Viv!’
As the talon descends again, someone lands on top of me. I’m crushed against the deck and then suddenly the weight lifts. I roll to my feet, then stagger.
No.
