Thisbe was deeply puzzled and very worried. What had happened here in her absence? Where were all of her allies? She didn’t recognize anyone in the windows. Where was Simber, for crying out loud? He was always at the forefront of battle. And Florence—the Magical Warrior trainer would never shy away from a fight. She was the lead. And what about Fifer and Aaron and Seth and the others? Were they hiding somewhere? Or had they somehow been… overcome? A sick feeling came over her. She couldn’t lose Fifer the way she’d lost Alex. Where is she?

As Thisbe released the scatterclip spells and helped the three board Gorgrun’s back again, she grew more and more alarmed about her missing friends. If they had been overtaken by Frieda Stubbs and the dissenters, where were they? Somewhere inside the mansion? Or… dead… even the statues? Killed by fellow Artiméans? If not, what were they doing? Where had they gone? Were they in hiding? Had Thisbe and the dragons unwittingly bungled something?

Thisbe had a hundred more questions and no answers. “Let’s retreat!” Thisbe called. Gorgrun and Quince thundered across the lawn and rose up over the water. “Circle the entire island, please. I want to have a look at what’s going on elsewhere.” Maybe they’d see someone they actually knew.

As the dragons left the dissenters hanging out of the mansion windows, watching the giant ghost creatures fly away, Thisbe ripped her fingers through her short curls.

“Perhaps we should torch the place after all,” Quince called out in an upbeat voice. “It didn’t seem like you cared about any of the people in there.”

Thisbe stared at the back of Quince’s head. “Didn’t you tell me once that you couldn’t cause the deaths of people?” she said. “That’s what you told Rohan and me when you brought us to the castle the first time.”

“That’s only in the land of the dragons,” said Gorgrun. “Our motherland. That rule has to do with the black-eyed rulers and the dragons, and the way the rulership is transferred from one generation of dragons to the next. We cannot do the work for the next generation—they must prove themselves worthy by performing the takeover.”

“Oh,” said Thisbe, glancing at Rohan and Asha, who were nearest her. “That’ll never happen as long as they’re mind controlled.”

“The Revinir is a dragon,” Rohan pointed out. “And she has taken over.”

“There’s no way any of us black-eyed people would approve the partnership and pledge to work with her,” said Thisbe. “The transfer can’t happen until there are two agreed-upon leaders. Right, Maiven?”

“Correct,” said Maiven.

It gave them some comfort. But it didn’t diminish the Revinir’s power.

Turning back to address Gorgrun’s question about torching the place, Thisbe called out to him. “I’m not sure where my allies are at the moment, so I don’t want to set any fires, in case they’re inside.” She didn’t want to torch the mansion, regardless, she added silently. The mansion was more than a home. It was a symbol of goodness. Of life and love and safety for children being purged from their families in the only world they’d ever known. Losing the mansion would be the end of something so many Unwanteds had come to find tremendous comfort within.