‘Don’t do it because of him. You don’t have to prove any­thing.’ Josi’s face softened as she stared at her son through tear-filled eyes.

‘Don’t I?’ He sounded bitter, but he didn’t care. Of course he had to prove himself! As far as the city knew, he was a brattish, violent child who’d almost hurt a baby dragon and nearly caused a riot. He needed to avenge his father and show everyone he’d changed.

‘Of course not,’ his mother was saying. ‘He loved you, 205Joe. Just as you are. You don’t have to do anything.’ She muttered something that sounded like, ‘So hard for you all …’

‘What do you mean?’ He sat very still now, listening.

‘He expected a lot from his children. As he did from him­self.’ Josi sighed, now looking past him, into the far distance, where the city met the sea. ‘Nestan had been many things: a sailor, a warrior, a wealthy merchant. He was a lot to live up to.’ Tears slid down her cheeks now, but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘But he never saw that. He was always pushing himself. So kind and generous to others; so hard on himself. But, oh, was he proud of you!’

‘Was he?’ It was a new thought to Joe, impossible to believe. ‘Still? Even after Hatching Day …?’

‘Always. So don’t you go and get yourself killed because you’ve got something to prove. Promise me, Joe?’

‘Mum, I’ve got to do something,’ he insisted. ‘Let me try, at least. Before the Brotherhood do any more damage. I’ll use the tunnels: I’ll be safe.’ He kissed her head gently. ‘I’m going to do it anyway, but I’d rather have your blessing.’

Josi frowned, wiping away tears with the palm of her hand.

‘Anyway, you taught me, didn’t you?’ He took her hand and tugged it gently, reminding her. ‘Sword skills, close combat, lock-picking and codes. You made sure I was ready. What did you do that for if you didn’t want me to use it?’

That did it. She smiled ruefully and conceded the point. ‘Go, then. I hope I taught you well enough. Know when to retreat, as well as when to fight. Promise me that, instead?’ 206

‘Promise.’ Joe leaned in and they held each other tightly. He felt his shoulder grow damp with her tears.

Joe left at dawn the next day before his mother or Matteo were awake.

He realised he had to keep moving. If he stopped and let himself think too much, he was finished. He found he could sharpen his grief into a point, like an arrowhead, and use it to keep pushing forwards.

He was wearing old clothes, carrying his father’s compass like a talisman now, hoping it would bring him luck. He also carried a storm lantern, a small backpack of supplies and the dragon-handled knife Conor had given him – though he prayed he wouldn’t need it. He used the tunnels to enter the palace grounds, using the low door by the stables, and leaving the sack of food that Matteo had prepared for him just inside the entrance.