The Revinir almost smiled. Thisbe was growing very sneaky, and she liked that about her. This girl was someone who could keep up with her. And this partnership was actually going to work—the Revinir could feel in her dragon scales that things were moving in the right direction. It didn’t take much for her to see that all she had to do was agree to the terms and renegotiate them later, once things here were running smoothly. She made it appear like she was thinking very hard about this and wrestling with it.

“All right,” the Revinir said finally. “You’ve worn me down on this, and I can see you aren’t wavering. I want to enter into this agreement with you, and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll leave the seven islands alone.” For now.

Surprisingly, Thisbe’s expression didn’t change. But that was one more thing the Revinir liked about her—that she didn’t show her emotions easily. She was a shrewd negotiator.

“Very well,” said Thisbe. “Shall we designate a time and place to make our announcement to the people of Grimere? Perhaps outside the castle on the drawbridge? I’ve always pictured us standing together with the castle behind us and having the people gather all around.” She made it sound dreamy.

“Dragonsmarche seems more appropriate, doesn’t it?” said the Revinir with a gleam in her eye. “It’s where we first met.”

This time a flicker crossed Thisbe’s expression. The Revinir knew it was horrible, but she had to have something to retain the upper hand after giving up all the seven islands.

“You forgot our meeting when I was two years old—I killed your pirate-captain friend,” she said coolly. “But Dragonsmarche is also the spot where I set all of the black-eyed children free from the catacombs. Sounds perfect. Tomorrow? Next week?”

The Revinir gave a delighted snort. “Well played. It shall be so. But let’s not wait. Let’s go today.” She didn’t wait for Thisbe to object. “Guards! Sound the trumpets and call everyone to the Dragonsmarche Square. We have a major announcement to make to all the people and dragons.”

With the servants scrambling to make things happen, the Revinir turned to Thisbe. “When this is through, I’m afraid I might have to ask you to make some more ancestor broth to wake everyone up. I hope you don’t mind.”

This time Thisbe snorted, and not just because she knew this probably wouldn’t work—she was banking on that happening once the Revinir was dead. But she played along. “Bring the proper bones to the kitchen, and I’ll teach the staff what to do with them.”