Jetta’s room aboard Le Rêve. From above, the sound of music—no gunfire yet. LEO is still sitting, on the ground.The dragon puppet watches him, her tail lashing.
LEO chews his lip. Then, slowly, deliberately, he starts to work on his bonds. The dragon’s tail lashes faster.
LEO: I’m not doing anything.
The dragon only cocks her head. Gently, LEO picks at the knot. JETTA had tied him with a hair ribbon—the silk slides through his fingers, easy to loosen. But the fantouche hunkers down into a crouch.
She said to watch me. Not to eat me.
The dragon doesn’t move, and LEO keeps plucking at the ribbon. At last it slips free. But he hesitates, watching the fantouche.
What were you, before this?
The dragon does not answer, but her hindquarters wriggle. LEO narrows his eyes. Then he flicks the ribbon at the dragon and she leaps up to bat at it. For a moment, LEO grins. Then, from above, the sound of fireworks.
Merde.
LEO scrambles to his feet; the dragon lifts her head to look at him. He raises an eyebrow.
We haven’t got much time if we want to get out of here.
The dragon only returns to her play. LEO turns—slowly, this time—and starts digging through the packs, searching for a pair of trousers. Finding one, he sits on the edge of the bed to pull them on, keeping one eye on the fantouche. But as he shifts his weight, the booklet on the quilt rustles slightly. LEO stops for a moment, watching the pages. Then he shakes his head, eyeing the door, then the dragon. She is still toying with the tie.
Are you coming, or should I leave you alone with the ribbon?
He starts toward the door, but stops with his hand on the knob, glancing at the rest of the fantouches still scattered around the floor. Uncertainty flickers across his face. Softer now:
Or drop you in the furnace, like she did with the others?
The dragon turns her head, and then rolls over in one sinuous motion. LEO frowns, glancing at the empty pack. Pressing his lips together, LEO scoops the fantouches inside and throws the bundle over his shoulder. Then he grabs Jetta’s book and Theodora’s letter from the pillow. Hesitating, he starts to open the envelope, but stops at the sound of a gun from above.
Merde!
LEO jams the note in the booklet and stuffs them both in his pocket. Then he grabs the ribbon and jogs out the door. The dragon bounds after him. From above, the sound of screaming, but LEO runs the other way—toward the dining hall, where porcelain plates and crystal glasses wait for a meal that will grow cold in the kitchens. The dragon follows at his heels.
At the end of the dining hall, they burst through the double doors that open onto a balcony overlooking the water. Frowning, LEO gauges the distance to shore—too far to swim with the pack. Reluctantly, he heaves it over the side, into the dark river—better that no one have it than to leave it behind for the armée to discover. Then he climbs over the rail, about to follow, but he hesitates when he catches sight of a fishing boat—one of the many little river craft that scull the water. This one is quite close to Le Rêve—especially taking into account the sound of the gunfight above.
Whistling through his teeth, LEO waves to the men in the boat, both in faded fishing gear, though looking closely, he can see that one of the men is dripping wet—and very familiar. The other man ignores him, continuing to row toward the shore. With a grimace, LEO whistles again. Then he whips the ribbon across the rail, and the dragon bounds after it, her long leather body graceful as a snake, the gold paint glimmering in the last light of the setting sun.
Both men are staring now, and after a hurried discussion, the boat turns back. LEO waits impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the fighting continues above. At last the prow bumps against the back of the ship. The man with the pole steadies the boat as LEO drops down among the netting. The other man holds out a hand to help him. His eyes are sharp, calculating, though his hair is still dripping river water. The dragon slips down between them, coiling at their feet. LEO drops the ribbon across her nose and bows to the man.
LEO: Your Majesty.
RAIK: Not so loud.
RAIK settles back into the boat, among the fishing nets, tossing them over the dragon, who squirms gleefully as she kicks at this new toy. LEO sits down beside him, nodding back toward the ship, the shouting, the confusion.
LEO: From the sound of it, that was quite a show you staged.
RAIK: It had to be a spectacle, to throw Legarde off my trail.
LEO: And to make your people angry enough to join the rebellion? Once word gets out that a soldier shot the Boy King, there will be riots.
RAIK: There were already riots, thanks to the armée. But I had word the general was planning my death soon enough. It was to be a drunken accident at sea. After the wedding, of course. You must be Leo Rath. Your sister has told me about you. (He glances briefly at the dragon writhing under the nets.) Though not everything.
LEO: What’s a marriage without a little mystery?
RAIK: Unfortunately the wedding is off. Mystery is one thing—secrets are another.
LEO raises his eyebrows and gestures to the dragon.
LEO: This? I assure you, Theodora has no idea. I didn’t either, until an hour ago.
RAIK: And how did you learn so quickly?
LEO: Me? No. This belongs to . . . to someone I fell in with for a while.
RAIK leans forward, his face intent.
RAIK: Who?
LEO wets his lips.
LEO: You know, I can’t recall her name.
RAIK: What will help you remember?
Together, the men settle down in the boat as it sweeps toward the shore.