CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WE PART WAYS IN THE entrance hall, now empty of Guardians, Marquis heading up to the library and me to the basement. I open the door quietly and the heat hits my face as I peer down the stairs. I hear low voices and descend as quietly as I can. Atlas is here, even though his shift is over. I had a feeling he would be. He and Professor Lumens are crouched down by one of the log burners, peering inside.
‘I wonder if perhaps we could try putting the eggs together, see if that will start the hatching process?’ Professor Lumens says. ‘There’s usually more than one egg in a nest.’
‘I’ve tried that, Professor,’ Atlas replies.
‘Well, what about turning them anticlockwise every full moon?’
‘I’ve tried that, too, sir. I’ve also bathed them in saltwater, like you suggested.’
He’s a good liar.
‘Very well,’ Lumens says. ‘In that case, I believe we have no choice but to have them fostered.’
‘Fostered, sir?’
‘By a dragon,’ says Lumens.
Atlas stands up. ‘What dragon will agree to foster eggs that Prime Minister Wyvernmire has … that were stolen?’
‘The Prime Minister seems to think that a criminal dragon, one that is imprisoned, might be convinced—’
‘That won’t work, either,’ I say and they both spin round.
‘Recruit Featherswallow?’ Professor Lumens’s eyes widen in surprise. ‘What are you doing down here?’
‘You can’t threaten a dragon into caring for those eggs,’ I say. ‘Trust me.’
To do so, Wyvernmire would have to force the dragon to echolocate to the eggs to make them hatch. And, to ensure that happened, she’d have to have someone sit day and night with the dragon. Someone with a loquisonus machine. Someone fluent in that particular dragon’s Koinamens dialect, someone who could understand the exact calls needed to hatch a dragonling, who could raise the alarm if the dragon echolocated something different. Or refused to echolocate at all.
The odds of that happening in the next two days are zero to none.
‘I must insist you leave,’ Lumens says sharply. ‘This is highly unusual—’
‘Actually, Professor,’ Atlas says, ‘Vivien has been down here before.’
Vivien.
I startle at the sound of my full name, the one only used by teachers and my parents. What happened to Viv , to Featherswallow? Atlas looks at me, his eyes full of hurt.
He got my note, then.
‘Down here before?’ Lumens looks from Atlas to me, aghast. ‘The confidentiality of the programme must be respected, even among yourselves—’
There’s a squawk from the far end of the room. I peer down into the dimness and see the shapes of three young dragons, now slightly larger than dracovols.
‘How long have you been studying dragons, Professor Lumens?’ I say.
‘Thirty years, a number entirely irrelevant to this conversation,’ Lumens replies.
‘I assume your studies took you all round the world, before the Travel Ban?’ I say. ‘My parents’ research took them to Europe, to the Americas, to Albania—’
‘Your parents?’
I nod. ‘John and Helina Featherswallow.’
Surprise shines in his eyes. ‘I had no idea,’ he says. ‘Your parents are hugely respected dragon anthropologists, experts in their fields. I was shocked to read in the papers about their—’
‘Rebellion?’ I say.
Lumens looks uncomfortable.
‘So was I.’
Atlas is watching me curiously.
‘But I understand now,’ I say to Lumens. ‘I understand why they were – are – rebels. It wasn’t just the terrible way this country treats the Third Class, which I refused to admit until recently. It was their love of dragons, you see. What you’re doing down there . . .’ I gesture towards the shadowy prison of the dragonlings. ‘They would never have permitted it. In fact, they would have vehemently opposed it. So why haven’t you?’
‘I …’ Lumens frowns. ‘I’m doing what my government—’
‘Your government is allying with the Bulgarian dragons,’ I say. ‘They’ll arrive at Bletchley Park the day after tomorrow and turn the Dragon Queen against us all. Wyvernmire is about to make herself another enemy, and there’s nothing you can do in here to stop it.’
‘Bulgarians?’ Lumens says. ‘What are you talking about, child—’
‘She’s telling the truth, Professor,’ Atlas says. ‘The work we were supposed to do here has failed, and Wyvernmire has chosen other means to win the war.’
Lumens pales and his hands begin to shake.
‘You should leave,’ I tell him. ‘Feign illness or ask for compassionate leave. Before they get here.’
Lumens turns to Atlas. ‘And you? What will you do?’
‘Oh, we have a few ideas.’
‘The dragonlings … we cannot abandon them. Whatever you may think of me, Recruit Featherswallow, I never wanted to harm them.’
‘We’ll deal with them,’ I say.
‘But how—’
‘Professor Lumens,’ Atlas says, ‘if you’re going to leave, you’ll need to do it soon.’
‘Oh … yes.’ Lumens begins rushing about the room, fetching paperwork and belongings.
‘She won’t let you take any of it,’ I say. ‘Everything inside Bletchley Park is classified.’
He stares at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out who I really am. Then he drops everything in his arms back on to a desk. He nods at Atlas, once, and then turns on his heel and leaves.
Atlas walks towards me and takes my hand, but I shake him off.
‘Why did you leave me that note? What have I done wrong?’
I ignore him. ‘I came to tell you that we might have convinced Muirgen and Rhydderch to join us,’ I say.
‘Us?’
‘The Coalition,’ I say softly.
A grin spreads across his face, but falters when he sees I’m not smiling back.
‘What’s wrong?’ he says again.
‘Chumana,’ I reply.
I watch his face for a reaction and catch just a hint of hesitation in his eyes. I take a furious step forward.
‘When were you planning on telling me you knew her? Don’t answer that,’ I snap as he opens his mouth. ‘You were never going to tell me because you don’t trust me. Everything you said last night was just an attempt to get me on your side.’
‘Viv, no—’
‘I told you I’d released a criminal dragon from the University of London and you knew it was her, but you didn’t tell me you were sneaking off to visit her—’
‘I wasn’t visiting her,’ he retorts. ‘She came to me when she saw they had me in isolation. It’s a freezing-cold bunker in the forest, and when she saw me there she lit me a fire through the bars. What does it matter anyway?’
‘It matters because you kept things from me while I bared my soul to you!’ I shout.
‘I didn’t want you to think we were conspiring against you!’ Atlas shouts back. ‘Trying to get you to join the Coalition—’
‘But that’s exactly what you were doing.’
Atlas shakes his head. ‘I know that’s something you have to choose for yourself.’ He puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘Everything I said last night and – and all that other stuff …’ He blushes. ‘I meant every bit of it. I promise.’
‘And what if I’d stayed on Wyvernmire’s side?’ I say carefully.
He holds my gaze. ‘That would have been … difficult. But I still would have loved—’
He stops abruptly and lets his arms drop by his sides as his face turns red. I swallow, willing him to finish the sentence.
‘Dr Seymour just received a message from the Coalition,’ he says instead. ‘Wyvernmire’s on her way back here and they’re readying themselves to attack. They don’t know about the alliance yet because Dr Seymour’s dracovol won’t reach them until tonight. But it means they’ll get to Bletchley before the Bulgarians do.’
I nod.
‘There’s something else.’
I look at him expectantly.
‘The Coalition has located your sister.’
My heart stops.
‘I sent out a search request a couple of weeks ago, using Dr Seymour’s dracovol. The news came back with today’s message. She’s in a government-run home in Blenheim with other children evacuated from London.’
Atlas takes my hand. ‘When we’re out of Bletchley,’ he says, ‘we’ll go and get her.’
My heart thumps loudly in my chest.
I sent out a search request a couple of weeks ago.
Atlas was searching for my sister before he even knew I was going to change sides. He was searching for my sister while I was trying to break the code that would make sure the rebels lost the war.
‘Why?’ I whisper.
Atlas shrugs. ‘Families deserve to be together.’
I melt into him, my arms round his neck, and he lifts me off my feet as I kiss him.
‘When the Coalition gets here, how are we going to escape?’ I murmur, my lips still on his.
Atlas smooths my hair back. ‘Your cousin had an idea.’
I don’t ask him how long he and Marquis have been secretly discussing escape plans. Instead, I let him lift me on to one of the desks and kiss me more deeply and as his lips find my neck I stare over his shoulder at the open log burner, at the eggs as hot as coals inside—
‘Atlas!’ I say.
He jumps, his hands retreating as if my skin had scalded them.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, swallowing hard. ‘I got carried away—’
I roll my eyes. ‘No, not that,’ I say, half wishing he’d put his hands back where they were. ‘The eggs. And the dragonlings. We’ll have to get them out tonight, with Karim.’
He nods several times, like a drunk person trying to understand simple instructions. ‘We haven’t got time to be …’ He gestures to the desk beneath me and I smirk.
‘There will be other opportunities,’ I say innocently.
He blushes again. ‘So tomorrow we go to our shifts as usual, and wait for the rebels.’
‘What if Wyvernmire finds out your dragonlings are gone?’ I say.
Atlas glances round his basement workshop and I see a hint of sadness. First Dodie gone, then Lumens and now the dragonlings.
‘We’ll blame it on Lumens,’ I say, answering my own question.
‘What? No—’
‘He’ll be gone by then,’ I say. ‘We say that Lumens stole the dragonlings and the eggs, so no one suspects you. By the time she organises her Guardians to go after him, the rebels will be here.’
‘All right,’ Atlas says slowly. ‘We’ll need to remove the sonar blockers around the glasshouse. Otherwise, they might stop the rebel dragons from communicating when they fly over.’
I nod.
‘We meet at midnight,’ Atlas says. ‘Outside your dorm.’
‘Midnight,’ I repeat, pulling him towards me with a smile.