And then it was time! The parade moved off slowly, down through the palace gates, along the main street that coiled the island like a snake. The roadway was lined with people watching and waving, some city folk, some visitors, all smiling and ready for the festival. Dragons walked among the groups, carrying their riders and extra children on their backs, glowing with pride.

Finally it was their turn. Joe turned to Winter. ‘Come on then, let’s show them who the most beautiful dragons really are.’

‘Fidell, my love,’ Winter said, ‘will you lead the way?’

The green shadow dragon stepped forward, shimmering gold and green, with Winter at his side.

Joe and Ren followed, the very last part of the parade. It was their honour.

As he walked through the city, the sun hot on his face, the noise of cheering in his ears, smelling the delicious street food – orange cakes, sweet caramelised nuts and roasting meat – Joe couldn’t help recalling that other day last year when they’d first emerged from the tunnels.

The skies were dark grey that day, and the air had tasted of smoke and death. It was still carrying ash, though the main cloud had dispersed to the north. It was heart-breaking to see what the flood had done to the island. The streets were full of thick black sludge and heaps of flotsam from the wave, with broken wood and glass scattered everywhere. It stank like blocked drains, and Joe couldn’t see how they’d begin to clean it up. It felt like a giant had picked up the 319island, turned it upside down and shaken it, before casting it away.

There was a broken boat on the roof of a house, smashed shutters and broken flowerpots leaking soil. He saw a dead cat, its body swollen with sea water. Windows were broken, curtains torn and the mud covered every­thing. They streamed out, a forlorn band of survivors, each heading home to discover how bad the damage was there.

In the end the palace was spared – except for the southern tower, which had been destroyed by Heral as he’d rescued Tarya. But the library was safe, and all of Isak’s precious books. No one ever saw the leaders of the Brotherhood again, though rumours swirled about their disappearance. Some said that they’d fled to the harbour at the last possible moment; others claimed that they’d been seen heading north by the captain of a Sartolan ship. They’d taken their chance on the ocean, rather than joining the people of Arcosi in the tunnels, and that told Joe everything he needed to know.

Six months ago, he’d received a package, delivered by a trader from the north. He’d unfolded a piece of purple silk to discover a tiny purple dragon carved of marble and a note that read: ‘From your friend, Y. Thank you,’ scrawled in Norlandish.

So Yannic had survived. He’d saved Tarya’s life, and Joe hoped that gave him peace. And that the gold made him happy. He wondered if he’d found the vengeance he sought, before the wave came. Was Asa still alive? He should be brought to justice. But Joe found he didn’t mind, as long as he stayed far away from Arcosi. 320