But none of these Artiméans had ever purposely taken the life of a fellow Unwanted. There was nothing to compare this moment to. Nothing to help Fifer come to terms with it, other than knowing Thisbe was for it. But Thisbe had more evil inside her than Fifer did, apparently. Fifer wrung her hands and peered out at the roofline.

Not to mention Frieda Stubbs wasn’t exactly easy to target. She was invisible. She was most likely using invisibility paintbrushes to stay hidden up there on the wall. And probably moving around whenever Simber got too close. How was Fifer going to locate her? She wasn’t sure, but she was going to use her best instincts to figure it out.

Ishibashi noticed the torment on Fifer’s face. He put his other shaking hand on top of hers. “Is it a very difficult decision for you?” he asked.

Fifer gulped and nodded. “Yes. It’s terrible.”

“Your compassion is one of your many strengths, Fifer Stowe. You will know what to do when the time comes.”

“Thank you, Ishibashi-san,” Fifer whispered. Her eyes welled up. “I hope you are right.”

“The older I get, the more right I am,” said Ishibashi with a glint in his eye.

Fifer pressed her lips into a small smile. There was always something wonderful to be learned from the grandfathers. And though she still hadn’t made a decision about what to do, she felt a little better about being able to make it if the time came.

Through the windows Fifer could hear a few dissenters in the cage outside, catcalling and chanting Frieda’s name as Simber flew around above the mansion. And she could see the dragons circling the pen, keeping order. But the dissenters were getting restless. Fifer needed to make a move. Draw Frieda out so they could do something. With instinct guiding her, Fifer gave Ishibashi’s hand a final squeeze. She stepped out from under the stairs and held her hands out, empty and visible. “Hey, Frieda! You nearly killed someone who doesn’t even live here!” she called out. “How does that feel?”

“Ishibashi is a fraud!” Frieda called back. Her voice seemed to be coming from a totally different place now than it had been before. When Frieda spoke, the dissenters heard her and became louder. Fifer wasn’t sure if they were encouraging Frieda or if they were angry with her, but they were being rambunctious enough that the dragons breathed a spurt of fire in through the doorway to help control them. Screams rose and died down, and Florence barked out a warning. Fifer cringed. She stole another glance out the window into the darkness, seeing that one wall of the makeshift corral was tipping precariously outward. Gorgrun was on the ground pushing it back in place with his head.

A single scatterclip whizzed past Fifer’s ear in that distracted moment. “Die a thousand deaths!” Frieda cried, a bit too late to be effective. Fifer startled and realized that Frieda had tried to kill her for the third time. She wasn’t hesitating.