“Thankfully no.” She pulled her last send component out and wrote:

Florence,

I wanted to make sure you got my last instructions. If not, please do not come to Ashguard’s palace. There are three dragons here with large fire-breathing ranges, and they will attack.

Please go to the cavelands until we figure out what to do. This is my last send component, so please reply if you can. I am alone.

Fifer

She looked at Dev and smiled. “I’m glad I’m not really alone. This is tolerable with you.”

“I’m glad you’re here too,” said Dev. He moved carefully and strained his neck trying to see his back. “I can’t believe how much better this is feeling. Your magic is powerful.”

“All thanks to Henry.” Fifer sent the component and was surprised when she didn’t see it zoom out to the east. There was no sign of it from any of the three windows they could see out of. “It must have gone north,” said Fifer, running from window to window to make sure she didn’t miss it.

“That would be the direction of the cavelands,” said Dev. “So that’s a good sign.” He looked around the library. “Where’s my shirt? Is it totally destroyed?” He was just glad his skirt hadn’t caught fire. That could have been embarrassing—once the pain went away, that was.

“I had to cut it off you,” Fifer said, returning and sitting down next to him on the sofa. “I’m glad you don’t remember it. It was pretty horrible. You screamed a lot.”

“I did?” Dev asked. “Yeah, that’s all a blur. I think I was in shock. Thanks… for taking care of me.”

Fifer smiled. “I washed your other shirt. It’s probably dry by now. Hanging on the bannister.” She slid down and rested her head on the pillow, staying curled up so she didn’t accidentally bump Dev’s burns. “I’m going to take a nap. I didn’t sleep much last night. Wake me up if you need anything.”

“Sure.” As Fifer closed her eyes and drifted off, Dev got up slowly. He stood for a moment, then tested how it felt to move. His wounds had been extensive, and without Fifer’s medicine he’d be in excruciating pain right now. Instead the pain was tolerable, and the wounds were scabbing over properly. He walked slowly over to the bannister to get his shirt, then eased it on, not sure he liked how it felt against his raw skin.