The Revinir nodded. “I will find you there.”

Impulsively Thisbe reached out and touched the Revinir’s claws. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“As am I,” said the dragon-woman. And she actually meant it.

In the privacy of her room, Thisbe took a moment to sort her thoughts. There was one thing she absolutely had to take a chance on before she did anything else. She went out to the balcony and climbed up on top of the lounge chair. Then she reached for the overhanging roof, pulled herself up onto that, and scrambled to her feet. From there she could see clear skies to the west, which was the direction her send spell to Fifer would need to go. If the direct path it took was over the castle rather than through its hallways or around its outsides, there was a better chance it wouldn’t be noticed, especially with all of the excitement that was happening in preparation for a procession to Dragonsmarche.

Thisbe took the component out of her pocket and reread it. Then she added We’re heading to Dragonsmarche today to announce our partnership. Don’t reply. And then, with a moment of concentration, she sent it off and watched it soar between two towers and fly through the air, just as she’d hoped. In two seconds it was out of sight. “Whew,” she muttered.

Thisbe inched down the roof. She eased over the edge, dangled there for a moment, trying to ignore her fear of heights, then dropped onto her balcony. The drop made her old ankle injury flare up, and she couldn’t walk for a second. When she could put weight on it, she went back inside her room and gave a little shriek. Rohan was standing there.

His eyes were glazed over.

“Ugh, Rohan!” Thisbe exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? We don’t have time for this. Be smarter, please. Sheesh.” She limped over to the bed, reached under it, and pulled Rohan’s rucksack out. She took out several vials of ancestor broth and opened the first one. “Here you go, Rohan,” said Thisbe. “Drink this.”

Rohan didn’t turn. “The Revinir instructed me not to drink anything you give me,” he said in a mechanical voice.

Thisbe paled. “What?” She hadn’t anticipated that. “Well, I’m telling you to drink this anyway. You—you work for me.”

“I cannot.” Rohan didn’t move to take it. Then his face relaxed. “Aw, I’m just messing with you. Be smarter? Really?”

Thisbe’s face exploded. “This is not a good time for jokes!” she hissed.

Rohan shrugged and shot her a half grin. “Sorry.” He took the broth and gulped it down. Then he steadied himself as the wave of images tore through his mind. “Blech.” He held out his hand for another.