Thwip — thunk!

Thwip — thunk!

Thwip — thunk!

Cobra threw three chakrams at once — two with her talons, one with her tail — and they struck three of the Talons perfectly in the throat, cutting off their vocal cords and killing them at the same time.

She seized the next two disks and threw them barely a second later, so the last two guards didn’t even have time to turn around in confusion before all five were falling through the dome roof, their hoods fluttering like tent canopies as they fell.

Qibli stared up at the now-open sky, misted with the sparkling fog of galaxies. None of the moons were full tonight, which was lucky. They were lucky, too, that Vulture had not returned yet to examine the scroll and realize that Qibli was stalling. (Example: And then there’s the palace, which used to be Burn’s stronghold, which is, whoa, so big, like, really big, like, just the biggest, definitely not an easy place to break into, I mean, with the walls … and the bigness …) Perhaps the guards that had traded places with these guards at dusk had reported that Qibli was working diligently, and that had been enough for Vulture, for now.

He bent quickly to the fallen Talons and tugged off their hoods, handing one to Cobra and one to Ostrich and pulling another over his own head. Winter was hopeless; it was too obvious that he was a sparkly IceWing and in no way a Talon of Power. They would have to pretend he was a prisoner if they were stopped.

“Stay close to me,” Cobra hissed. “Don’t touch anything or step on anything if you can avoid it.”

“Won’t the traps and grounds be different from what you remember?” Qibli asked her. “If you’ve been imprisoned for so long?”

“I know my father’s tricks,” she said grimly. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Keep me safe. Protect me. Because she loves me.

Qibli shook himself and followed her to the roof, where they flattened themselves to slither along the outside, watching for more guards. Ostrich was close behind Qibli, with Winter taking up the end of the line.

The night air smelled of burned coconuts and Grandfather’s perfumed oil, and of the oasis pool not too far away. Qibli could hear members of the Talons of Power toasting one another in the garden pavilions. The hood was heavy around his face, obstructing his peripheral vision; he wondered how the Talons could stand them.

They slipped down to the ground and hurried single file along one of the tiled paths, carefully stepping only where Cobra stepped, although Qibli thought the center of the garden should be safe to walk in, at least. It was the outskirts, where the walls were — where they were going — that were dangerous.

A small fortress loomed out of the dark ahead of them, bristling with long spikes. Qibli stopped, glancing around.

“This isn’t the way to the outer wall,” he whispered.

“I need to stop in here for a minute,” Cobra whispered back, flicking one wing at the fortress.

“In Grandfather’s treasury?” Qibli hissed. “Are you insane?”

“He has something that could ruin all our plans,” Cobra growled. “I must take it from him, or everything we do is doomed to failure.”

“But — of all the places definitely rigged to kill you,” Qibli said, “this will do it in the most painful way.”

She grinned, her teeth glittering in the dark. “I know where he hides his key.”

“You mean, where he hid it,” Qibli pointed out. “Years ago.”

“This he won’t have changed,” she whispered. “Stay here. Stop worrying.”

“No,” Qibli said firmly. “Tell me what we’re stealing. If you want us to trust you, you should be able to tell us that.”

“Fine,” she said, exasperated. “Ever heard of the Obsidian Mirror?”

“I have,” said Winter, unexpectedly. “Legend says it gave the NightWings the power to eavesdrop on any conversation happening anywhere in the world.”

“Whoa,” Qibli said, feeling that shimmer of envy he always felt anywhere near an animus-touched object. You’d know everyone’s secrets. You could hear what dragons are saying about you — although, would I want that? I don’t think I would want that. But imagine the power to anticipate everyone’s next move! It would be so easy to keep tabs on your enemies … or your long-lost grandson. “That’s how he knew everything about me and Winter,” he said. “That’s how he knew we were coming here.”

“Exactly,” said Cobra. “So we have to take it with us or else he’ll always know where we are and what we’re doing. Get it now, lizard?” she snapped at Qibli, then seemed to catch herself mid-snap. She closed her snout, took a deep breath through her nose, and said, “Sorry.”

Sorry. Qibli was momentarily dazed. He wouldn’t have guessed that his mother knew how to say that word. At least, not to one of her offspring.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, we can’t leave that in Vulture’s talons.”

She gave him a surprised look, as if she hadn’t thought he knew the word sorry either.

“How did Vulture get the mirror?” Winter asked. “How long has he had it?”

“He must know so much about Thorn already,” Qibli realized with a sense of mounting horror. “What does he think I can tell him that he hasn’t already overheard?”

Cobra shrugged. “He hasn’t had it long, I think,” she said. “He found it, out in the desert, only a few months ago.”

“Only a few months ago …” Qibli said thoughtfully.

She glanced at him. “I heard the guards talking about it, walking over my prison.” Her wings folded back and she pulled the hood farther over her face. “Now stay here and stop chattering on. I’ll be right back.”

Before he could say another word, she sprinted toward the treasury, darting from bush to bush in the dark.

Qibli gestured Winter and Ostrich back into the shadows of a covert of trees. It was the best he could do while still staying on the path, and it felt horribly exposed. Talons of Power could come by at any moment. Vulture could saunter past at any moment.

Grandfather’s been spying on the queen for months, Qibli thought. Thorn will have to change all her passwords. Recode the secret message system, just in case. Change everything she’s done, in case he’s overheard it and can use it against her. He rubbed his forehead, his brain starting to explode with all the implications.

Long minutes ticked by, and each one felt like a dagger Qibli was personally thrusting into his queen’s heart. The Obsidian Mirror was a terrible thing for your enemies to have — but Darkstalker’s power was even more dangerous. Thorn needed protection from Darkstalker right now, and he was just standing here in the dark, waiting for his mother.

Maybe we should go, he thought, crossing to the edge of the shadows so he could study the silent treasury. But she’s the one who can navigate us out of here. What if we just flew for it? Lifted off and tried to fly away as fast as we could? We’d be spotted but maybe they wouldn’t be able to catch up to us. Maybe their arrows would miss.

I can’t risk Ostrich that way.

What if Mother doesn’t come back? What if she’s already lying dead on a pile of gems inside? Will we still be standing here when morning comes?

He turned back toward the others and had a small heart attack.

“Where’s Winter?” he whispered, nudging Ostrich with his wing. She sat up and looked around with blurry confusion.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He was here a moment ago.”

Qibli twisted in a frantic circle and spotted a white shape flitting through the pear orchard. He couldn’t shout out to Winter without alerting the whole compound. Qibli growled softly.

“Stay here,” he whispered to Ostrich. “Stay as hidden as you can. We’ll be right back.”

She nodded, folding back into the shadows.

Qibli hurried after the IceWing prince and realized that he was aiming for another small building in the center of the pear trees. This one was built low to the ground, with large windows on all sides; candlelight flickered in the dim interior. The outside was decorated with a turquoise-and-amber tile mosaic of snakes and lizards chasing one another endlessly.

Winter slowed down as he got closer, and then veered around the building toward a shed that appeared to be a storehouse for food, judging from the smells Qibli could now identify coming from it. He smelled cinnamon and dates and coconut, smoked ham and a few live pigs as well, some kind of the fancy smelly cheese Vulture loved, lemons, scavengers, dried fish, live ducks …

Scavengers.

Arrrrgh, Winter, you obsessed ninny.

He caught up as Winter was tinkering with the lock on the shed door. Inside, a few of the animals had heard the scratching of his claws and were starting to stir in an understandably worried way. Qibli could hear feathers fluttering, pigs snorting, and the little stamp of tiny scavenger feet.

“Are you serious?” he said, and Winter jumped a mile, which was almost hilarious enough to make this side excursion worthwhile.

“Shhhhh!” Winter hissed.

“What are you thinking?” Qibli whispered.

“I’m thinking your horrifying grandfather is going to eat the poor little scavengers trapped in here,” Winter whispered back. “Unless I save them.”

“Right now?” Qibli asked. “In the middle of our own precarious escape?”

“Well, I’m not planning on coming back!” Winter said. He tugged on the lock again. “Hey, you’re a street thug. Can you pick this lock for me?”

“An Outclaw is not the same thing as a criminal,” Qibli protested. “Oh, fine, move over.” He studied the lock for a moment, then inserted his claw into the mechanism and wiggled it around until he heard a click.

“Now what?” he asked Winter as he nudged the door open. “We shove them in a bag and carry them off into the desert with us? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, but scavengers tend to get very noisy when they think a dragon is about to eat them. Or when dragons get anywhere near them, actually.”

“We’ll just let them out,” Winter said, pacing past him into the dark interior. “They’re smart enough to fend for themselves after that.”

Qibli decided not to point out that they hadn’t been smart enough not to get caught in the first place.

Winter crouched beside a large cage in the corner. Inside, three scavengers were huddled together by the back wall, squeaking. Two more poked their heads out of a little nest of straw and stared at Winter.

“Don’t be afraid,” Winter said softly. He unlatched the top of the cage, lifted it off, and set it aside, then took a few steps back and waited.

One of the scavengers from the straw immediately popped up and started clambering up the netting of the cage wall. A moment later, two of the others followed, squeaking busily at the two that hadn’t moved yet.

“What’s all this noise?” said a voice from outside. “Raiding the storehouse in the middle of the night? Is there a feast going on that I wasn’t invited to?” A dragon stuck his head in the door, yawning hugely.

Qibli had him pinned to the floor before he realized it was Vulture’s lying MudWing. He banged his elbow on the tail band and the chain mail tangled in his claws as he subdued the larger dragon. Winter flashed across the room to help, seizing the headdress to hold the dragon still.

“Don’t shout,” Qibli said as the MudWing opened his mouth. “We just want some answers. Tell us the truth and we won’t hurt you.”

“Ha!” said the MudWing with surprising bitterness in his voice.

“Who are you?” Winter demanded.

“Nobody,” said the MudWing truculently. “Bog, just Bog, a regular MudWing, me.”

“Why are you lying about Queen Moorhen ordering the cactus attacks?” Qibli asked.

“Not lying,” said Bog. “All true. Definitely a MudWing plot.”

“Where are your sibs?” Qibli pressed. “Are they traitors, too?”

“My what?” Bog said.

Qibli and Winter exchanged a glance. Sibs had come up during a class on MudWings at Jade Mountain. Qibli had heard about the idea before, but that lesson was the first time he’d learned in detail about how MudWings lived their lives alongside their siblings, creating families out of brothers and sisters rather than ever getting married or even knowing their parents.

“Um,” Bog corrected himself. “Not here. Not traitors. Just me. I was captured by the Talons of Power and forced to reveal everything.”

“I bet,” said Winter. “Looks like they used the classic torture method of burying you in diamonds.”

Qibli tried to shake off something that was snared around one of his claws and heard a clank from under the chain mail. He shoved a few of the links aside while Bog squirmed and spotted a pouch tied firmly under one of Bog’s wings.

“Don’t touch that!” Bog roared, suddenly slashing at Qibli’s talons.

Qibli jerked back out of reach. Something had ignited a spark of recognition at last — the anger in this dragon’s eyes, the pouch he protected with such violence.

“I know who this is,” he said.

“You do?” said Winter. “When have you ever met a MudWing outside of school?”

“He wasn’t a MudWing last time we saw him,” Qibli said. “He was a NightWing calling himself Shapeshifter.”