But there was some relief in fighting too. Simber hadn’t felt comfortable with anything that had been happening. He knew what Frieda was doing was wrong in every way. He knew she would destroy Artimé. And he thought he had no choice but to go down with her. Loyal to the end. The way he was created.

Florence spoke near him. “You have the power inside you to override something if it turns out that it was a mistake,” she said softly. “Marcus would be so sad to see you struggling like this right now. He would have done anything he could to change it. What a weight it would be on his heart, that he was the cause of your pain in this terrible time.”

Simber turned his head. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized she’d come over to him. His best friend, Florence, showing him a path to ease his pain. A road out of this internal turmoil that should not have existed in the first place. He glanced at Fifer and Thisbe and sensed their pain with each other. What would Artimé be for them if he turned away now? Alex would be so disappointed.

Simber moved toward the girls, head bowed. Then he sank to his haunches and lifted his gaze, catching Fifer’s eye and holding it. He raised his paw, curled it into a fist, and tapped it against his stone chest. “I am with you,” he said.

Army of Large

In the Quillitary yard, with Simber solidly declaring his opposition to Frieda, Florence gathered everyone together to assess their strengths. They were a strange group: Simber with his large body and huge wingspan, Florence standing miles above the rest. Two colossal ghost dragons. A queen with more weapons than Florence had ever seen anyone carry at one time. A tiny kitten. Fifer, Thisbe, Sky, and Rohan, plus their friends from Grimere, who all had varying amounts of dragon scales on their arms and legs, looked antlike in comparison to the dragons and statues. And young Ava and Lukas, miniature fighters growing hungry and cranky, forced to go along for the ride, for no one in the group could be spared to stay back and watch them.

Florence scratched her head as she surveyed them, trying to determine their best strategy.

“The pressure of time is on all of our minds when we think of our friends,” she said. “And that is the number one goal in what comes next. But I don’t think there’s a way to reach them without taking back control of the mansion. What’s the best way to do that? Swiftly and forcefully.” She turned to Maiven Taveer, eyeing her weapons belts again. “I assume you fight?”

“Yes, Captain Florence,” said Maiven, standing tall and gazing at the warrior trainer with grave respect.

“The others have had some sword training,” Thisbe told Florence. “And I’ve taught them a few basics in magic—glass, invisible hooks, the seek spell. But don’t forget we are all part dragon and can breathe fire. And our scales give us some measure of protection.”