Next came the Sartolan families, walking behind a huge paper fish, silvery blue, an intricately detailed sculpture carried on six poles, with a tail that moved, flicking from side to side. The children here wore paper fish heads and fish tails made of stiff shiny fabric. King Luca joined in too. He’d led his people to shelter in the Sartolan uplands that terrible day last year, but the harbour and low-lying streets had been badly hit by the wave.

Then came the Silk Islanders. They wore flowing red robes and walked behind a paper-crafted silk loom.

And so it went on. There were ten different sections. It would look like a living rainbow from dragonback, Joe guessed. He was glad he didn’t have to choose which section to belong to. He and Winter had their own section: the shadow dragons were honoured with the final position and would close the parade.

‘Joe!’ Winter called when she saw him. ‘You’re late!’

‘Sorry, we were swimming. Flying, I mean. You know … Anyway, we’re last, there’s no rush – we can always catch them up on dragonback.’ He held his hands up defensively, laughing.

Winter pretended to be cross. ‘Isak’s looking everywhere for you. I said you’d be late. I also said you wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

‘Where else would I want to be?’ he teased.

Winter wore dragonrider robes and a scarf of emerald 317green, dotted with gold sequins in stripes to reflect Fidell’s adult colours. Her grey eyes seemed green today too and full of laughter. Her long black hair was plaited ornately, with green ribbons through it. Her smile was wide and bright, lighting up her whole face.

Joe paused long enough to flash a grin back, then hur­ried and found his own costume: a fine woven silk jacket of dappled purple, with gold buttons that his fingers struggled to do up now. Amina had helped her father design them. On the back of his jacket and Winter’s there was a circle, half made of waves, half of flames, to signify the shadow dragons’ special gifts, able to move seamlessly between the elements.

Now the music started up, and the drummers began, beating out a rhythm on the drums they wore on thick bands round their necks. Joe felt his excitement rising. People stamped on the spot, practising their dance moves, or waving their ribbons and banners in circles to watch them shimmer in the sunlight.

Ren and Fidell arrived at the last moment, circling down over their heads, with their wings spread wide like silken canopies. People scattered as they landed, quite used to this behaviour.

‘You’re late!’ Joe called up to Ren in his turn. She blinked at him through those golden eyes, and he could swear she was almost laughing too. He came forward and leaned on her, his cheek against her scaly hide, breathing her in, while Ren snorted smoky breath down his neck, whiffling into his hair. He smoothed his hands over her back, checking she was warm enough. 318