She liked the risk. She liked the power. She liked that there was no one else the Revinir wanted to work with. It was Thisbe or nobody. That gave her a rush. It was scary to think that way, but Thisbe liked that aspect of it too. A thrill. Who didn’t like a thrill?

But she was scared, too. More scared than she’d ever been before, outside of the first time she’d met the Revinir. Back then she’d been taken from the auction block, dragged into the catacombs, and locked inside a cell full of dragon bones. Later she’d been branded—a signature move by the Revinir, who’d done a few similar things when she’d been Queen Eagala in Warbler. At least now Thisbe thought the Revinir might treat her properly, especially since she wanted something from her. She could always walk away, she told herself. Though… she grimaced to imagine it. What would the Revinir do? Just let her go? Hardly.

Last night she’d surprised herself by communicating with the red dragon through roaring, and she wanted to try that again. She let a soft rumble percolate in her throat, trying to project to the dragon to put his wing out so she could disembark. She let the growl grow and made it more urgent sounding. Eventually the dragon paid attention and let his wing unfurl. She slid down over the webbing to the ground, landing with a hop. Then she straightened her component vest and walked across the drawbridge toward the huge castle entrance.

The giant entry room had been cleaned up and repaired after the fire. There was still a mild smoky smell, enough to make Thisbe’s sinuses sting. She moved inside, remembering all the times she’d come through here before. She was at her most confident this time, which was saying something. But she had to be, for that was the kind of character she needed to play in order to beat the Revinir at her own game. She walked with an air of ownership, letting her boots click loudly on the green malachite floor and coming to a stop in the center of the grand vestibule. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

It didn’t take long for a servant to come toward her. “Come with me,” the man said. His eyes were glazed over. Remembering that the Revinir had probably drugged hundreds of people of Grimere with the dragon-bone broth was depressing. It made everything just that much harder. Would the antidote of ancestor broth work on them? Or did that only work on the black-eyed people? They’d have to figure out what to do with them, too. Would the mind control break automatically once Thisbe took the Revinir out?