Sora bit her lip. She understood Broomstick’s gloom, not only because she’d been in the lake, too, but also because she was swimming in her own insecurity. And yet, Fairy was right, they had to try something.

“What’s made him happy in the past?” Sora asked.

“Um . . . throwing parties. Play-fighting with tenderfoots. Blowing things up. But he can’t really do any of those here.”

“He could blow up the soul pearl and save me some trouble,” Sora said sardonically.

“Oh!” Fairy’s eyes glimmered. “That’s worth a try.”

Sora snorted, not because it was funny, but because she’d only said it as a joke, out of despair.

It would be convenient, though. She hadn’t considered the possibility before, since she’d been more confident then, but now . . .

“I suppose he might as well try,” Sora said. “Maybe if Broomstick can blow up the pearl, it would kill the Dragon Prince. We could end this all right now.” She retrieved the soul pearl from the hidden pocket in her collar.

The tiny orb shone prettily in the sunlight.

Fairy wrinkled her nose. “I thought it would be more special.”

Sora dropped it in Fairy’s hand. “I hope it’s not, and that it can be blown to bits like any other pearl. And I hope you and Broomstick succeed so that I never have to see it again.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Fairy approached Broomstick with the idea.

“No,” he said. “Absolutely not.” He cowered under his blanket. Despite being twice Fairy’s size, he looked so vulnerable, with his skin smudged with dirt and his eyes downcast. His anxiety about the Lake of Nightmares prophecy rattled again through their gemina bond.

“It’ll be all right,” Fairy said gently. “I’m here, remember? And the pearl doesn’t pose any threat to you. It’s the Dragon Prince who can hypnotize you, not his soul.”

Broomstick shuddered.

“We can do this,” she said.

He dared to look up from his blanket at the pearl in her hand. “You’re assuming it’s a real gem that can be blown up.”

“No, I’m not. It could be anything. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try each new idea we think of. If none of them works, then we stick to our original plan of killing Prince Gin anyway. But it would be infinitely preferable to be able to assassinate him without having to be near him.”

Fairy grabbed Broomstick’s arm and hauled him up from the sleeping mat. It was like wrestling with an enormous sack full of lead weights, but she prevailed through sheer determination.

“If we blow this up,” she said, “you won’t have to be afraid anymore. Prince Gin won’t be able to hypnotize you, and that vision you saw in the lake will never come true.”

Understanding seemed to soak into Broomstick.

“We have to kill the Dragon Prince,” he said.