“I see what’s happened now.” The Revinir moved to the window, taking Dev with her, and sneered, “That little…” She snorted angrily. “I knew it! Thisbe lied to me, and I didn’t detect it. The ancestor broth does affect the black-eyed slaves. Doesn’t it?” She shook Dev again. “How is she able to trick me?”

Dev couldn’t concentrate on anything she was asking. He could only stare out the window at the circling dragons while his stomach tied itself in knots. Any second he could be flying out toward death, either from the fall, or from one or several dragons tearing him up at the Revinir’s command.

He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally checking out. Totally giving up as the Revinir continued interrogating him. In that moment he realized that not only was he about to die, but he’d also just accidentally let the Revinir know that the ancestor broth was actually powerful for the right people. He’d messed things up for Thisbe and the others.

It didn’t matter now. They were long gone. “They went to the forest,” Dev mumbled, trying to at least throw the dragon-woman off Thisbe’s scent for a while. Perhaps it would help a little. But they were all doomed. It didn’t matter how powerful Thisbe was. The Revinir was more powerful. She was unbeatable.

“You are all rats,” the Revinir said. “I will find Thisbe Stowe if it’s the last thing I do, and you’re not going to help her escape this time!” She lifted Dev higher and held him above her head. “I don’t need you. Nobody does!”

“Aaah!” Dev cried. “Help!” As he twisted and screamed, the Revinir let out an earsplitting roar. Three images exploded in front of Dev’s eyes. Rushing river with a forked tree branch. Palace. Gray man. Then the Revinir threw him, sending him sailing out the turret window.

Three dragons, their mouths open, answered the Revinir’s call and swooped in.

No Longer Alone

Landing in a dragon’s mouth wasn’t at all comfortable, but for a split second Dev felt relief: At least he wasn’t falling anymore. Then a double row of sharp teeth pierced the skin of his back and another double row clamped down over his chest, and his fear of imminent death returned. On top of that, the flashing images were disorienting, and he could feel the pull of the horrible dragon-woman’s roar. Luckily, he’d avoided drinking the dragon-bone broth and was not under her mind control. It wasn’t much of a victory to hold on to, but it was something.

With his head hanging outside the dragon’s mouth, Dev tugged and twisted, trying to unhook his body and clothing from the sharp teeth and jump out before the dragon really crunched down. He thought he had a chance of survival if he got away now and landed in the moat.

But the dragon pressed firmly enough to immobilize Dev despite his struggles. Frightful, uncontrollable sobs of fear and pain and panic escaped the boy’s chest. But after a while they stopped, replaced by a sense of despair and numbness. It was almost as if the dragon were paralyzing not only his limbs, but also his brain. Had he been poisoned by the dragon’s bite? Was this what it felt like to approach death? When would the creature press harder and pulverize Dev’s bones into tiny pieces?