‘The secret mission I read about in his diary,’ I say, my cheeks warming at the admission. ‘Are we just going to pretend it doesn’t exist?’
I feel Marquis turn towards me, but keep my eyes on the tent.
‘I think he’s a fool to be chasing after that ridiculous echolocation theory,’ he says. ‘But itispossible that the Coalition entrusted him with something else, and why punish him for that? Things have to be classified during a war, that’s just the way it is.’
I bite my lip. Then – movement.
Atlas slips out of the tent, his hands full of paperwork. He stuffs it into his jacket pockets.
‘That’swhat he went in for?’ Serena says.
Atlas looks up, scans the clifftops, stops. He’s seen us. As our eyes meet, an agonised screech comes from the beach. Atlas ducks for cover, but none of the dragons or Guardians on the sand seem to take notice. The screech sounds again.
‘It sounds like a tortured animal,’ I whisper.
Marquis points across to the other side of the beach. ‘How much do you want to bet it’s coming from inside that giant tent?’
The tent is surrounded by armed Guardians.
‘What do you think’s in there?’ Gideon says. ‘A dragon prisoner?’
We stare at it in horrified silence.
‘What if,’ Serena says quietly, ‘it’s a wyvern?’
My skin crawls. ‘We have to go and look.’
‘And do what?’ Marquis says.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply impatiently. ‘But what if it’s Cindra? Aberdine? Aodahn?’
Marquis sinks back into the grass. ‘Are you proposing we free an imprisoned dragon from right under the enemy’s nose?’
‘I’ve done it before, haven’t I?’
He rolls his eyes, then points to the beach. ‘Looks like he’s as mad as you are.’
Atlas is running along the edge of the beach towards the big tent, zigzagging between the cliff faces that jut out across the sand. I bite back a smile.
‘He’s going to get caught,’ Serena breathes.
We watch as he almost runs into the path of a Guardian, diving behind another army tent just as the Guardian turns around.
‘Come on,’ I say.
We slip down the side of a cliff on the opposite end of the beach. Gorse and thorns catch at my trousers as I keep close to the cliff face and out of view of the camp. I spot a crowd of people over on Sanday.
Jasper actually listened to me.
We creep across the sand to where Atlas is waiting, crouched among the rockpools. Our eyes meet.
‘Well, that was a bright idea,’ I snap. ‘What on earth did you go into Wyvernmire’s tent for? And why did you go off without us?’
‘Because there’s no time to waste.’ He pulls the papers out of his pocket and hands two sheets to me. The first is a newspaper article, dated six days ago.
ESPIONAGE UNVEILED:
CHANCELLOR HOLLINGSWORTH A REBEL ON THE RUN
