Before sunrise everyone was ready and anxious to go. Fifer had her hammock loaded with everything she needed, plus extra water for when, not if, they rescued the others. Her falcons flitted about, full of energy and eager to fight back against the ones who’d injured and killed their companions.

Florence, Kaylee, and Ishibashi planned to fly into battle on Quince and keep Ava and Lukas hidden on the dragon’s soft back. It was nice for Florence to finally have something big enough to support her size and weight. She’d ridden on Pan before, but she’d never flown, so this was a new adventure. Florence carried her quiver and magic arrows as well as a mixture of spell components. Kaylee and Ishibashi were loaded down with weapons, including swords, daggers, and the handcrafted throwing stars that Ishibashi had brought from his island.

Sky, with her sword, and Thisbe and Rohan with theirs as well as some components, climbed onto Simber’s back. And Maiven and the black-eyed children from Grimere took their places on Gorgrun. They carried melee weapons and whatever components they’d managed to learn in the short time Thisbe and Florence had been working with them. They also had their own fiery breath as an added secret weapon, which the dissenters wouldn’t expect. And though they couldn’t spray fire nearly as far as real dragons could, it was nonetheless dangerous. Slim lines of smoke drifted up from a few of the children’s noses and mouths in anticipation. Now and then, as they waited for the signal to take off, they turned to the side to breathe a warm-up round of fire. Their eyes were clear, free from all mind control. Their hands were quick, their heads steady, their insides confident. They were ready for this battle. No matter what happened.

Simber walked with his riders to Fifer in her hammock. “You should say something to everrryone,” he said in a low voice. “A speech.”

Thisbe frowned. Why her?

Florence glanced at Simber curiously, trying to read his expression. Then she nodded. “Yes, Fifer. Give us some wise words and encouragement to build us up in this dangerous situation.”

In the past, Fifer might have been struck with nerves and a feeling of inadequacy to do something like that. But not now. Not after all she’d been through. And not with Thisbe standing there—Thisbe who hadn’t just been singled out by Simber as a leader in this group. Fifer had led a group before, and the role had become so natural to her that she barely blinked.

“Everyone,” she called out, and waited for the group to quiet down and look at her. When they did, she continued. “Good morning, all. I hope you are feeling refreshed.” She hesitated, then dove in. “This is going to be difficult. Not only to succeed physically by taking back our land, but emotionally, too. This is a complex situation, fighting against our own people. No matter how mad they’re making us right now, they’ve still been a part of our lives for years, and this land on which we’ll be battling is our home.”