“Have a seat,” the Revinir said, pointing to a table set for dinner. She sat on her haunches and worked her curly front talons together like a chef sharpening knives. Thisbe didn’t doubt they were just as sharp. Was the dragon-woman trying to intimidate her? If so, it wasn’t a smart tactic. They would have to be on equal ground in order to enter into a partnership, and Thisbe wouldn’t hesitate to remind the Revinir of this every time she tried to take the upper hand.

Thisbe remained standing and put her hands on her hips. She studied the Revinir. “Are you planning to murder me with those glorified fingernails? I’m not sure that’s how a good partnership works.”

The Revinir stopped sharpening her claws. “No. They just… hurt sometimes. When they grow quickly.” She frowned, as if unsure how to handle Thisbe’s bolder personality.

“Great,” said Thisbe. “Then I expect you won’t do that again in my presence. How do we proceed? What has to happen before we can go forward with this plan of yours?”

“I— Just wait a minute,” said the Revinir, sounding frustrated. Smoke drifted from her nostrils. “I’m not sure about this.”

Thisbe stared at the dragon. “You’re… what? I’m sorry. Did I hear you correctly? You’ve asked me more times than I can count to join you. You’ve kidnapped me on multiple occasions with the intent of convincing me to help your selfish cause. Most recently you dropped me onto some falling-apart monstrosity of a palace and left me to fend for myself with the hopes that I would come crawling to you, broken, and finally see the wisdom of your plan. Am I exaggerating?”

“No, but—”

“And now that I have done exactly what you wanted me to do, you are the one having doubts? Is that what’s happening here?”

“I have questions!” the Revinir said sharply. A shower of sparks flew from her mouth and made tiny burn marks on the carpet. The dragon-woman rose to her tallest height.

Thisbe dodged the sparks but didn’t back down. “You have wasted and ruined enough of my life. I don’t care if you have questions.” She held out her arms, covered in scales, and then blew an arc of fire into the room. “You did this to me, and I’ll never be the same again. And now you can’t decide if you want to be my partner? It’s a little late for that, Emma.”

The Revinir recoiled at the use of her given name. She hadn’t heard it in a very long while. “What? H-how?” she sputtered. A roar rose up in her throat, but she held it back, not wanting any extra dragons and servants to come running in right now. She was confused and furious and insecure all at once. And she needed to take back control of this conversation.