Still, for fear of espionage, any capable ice dragons were turned immediately away, in their slings, wearing their patches, hobbling on their crutches. No matter how charitable the fire dragons could be, they were not stupid. It was generally agreed upon that an ice dragon, in spite of whatever other qualities they might possess, was not trustworthy, and to have one in your midst was to be at risk of betrayal… or worse.
Theon found us not long after the ice dragons had retreated, his expression sour and doomed. “I could not find Father,” he confessed.
“The astrolabe is gone,” I burst out, unable to hold the information from him for a single second.
It was as terrible as I thought it would be.
His gold eyes darkened, and he stared at me as if I must surely have been mistaken. As if I had told him that the sky outside was falling—and I supposed I had.
“And Michelle?”
I smiled sadly, too exhausted and depressed to be jealous. I would have to believe that he was simply a much better person than I was; all told, this was one of the better realizations one could have about their significant other.
“Michelle is gone, too,” I told him. “It looked like—well—I don’t know what it looked like.”
But Mrs. Aena, who had stayed close to me ever since the skirmish in the shelter, would not give Michelle Ballinger allowances. “She gave them the astrolabe, Theon. She approached an ice dragon while she held it into the air like an offering.”
Theon opened his mouth, as if he might disagree, but he had nothing to say. He didn’t know Michelle as well as I did; this was no surprise to me. I just nodded grimly, and Theon closed his mouth.
“They will return when the sun is down—and when the astrolabe has been reset,” Mrs. Aena informed us. “We must migrate. If we stay here, we may as well dig our graves here.”
“Many of the fire people have already abandoned the shelter in search of safer grounds,” Theon confirmed. “I saw a herd preparing their few salvaged possessions, and I overheard them discussing their schedule and route. They were flocking in the direction of the portal at the ogres’ island. Finding a safe house on Earth, it would appear.”
“More storms will be coming,” his mother agreed. “It is wise to relocate.” She held his eyes in a peculiar way as she spoke—as if her words carried two meanings.
“We cannot relocate. Father is imprisoned again. Altair is still missing. The ice dragons possess the astrolabe.”
The former queen hesitated, but then said, “Of course we cannot relocate, but many others will. For the first time in all our battles with the ice people, we may find ourselves outnumbered, for many of our people will not stay in a climate where fighting is almost impossible. We must move into the city and fight, even if we will be fighting alone, because it is our family under attack.”
I placed my hand over Theon’s and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. But when he looked at me, it was with doubt in his gaze.
“Penelope,” he said to me, his voice husky and remorseful. “Mother, would you give us a moment, please?”
Mrs. Aena looked between the two of us and stood, nodding. As she passed behind Theon, she ran her hand over his shoulders and gave his neck a tender squeeze.
As soon as she was gone, passing into the next cavern, Theon turned to me and grimaced. “Nell,” he said again. “We need to talk.”
Augh. “Okay,” I said, steeling myself for the absolute worst.
There was a pause in which he just stared at me. “I think that Beggar’s Hole is the safest place for you.”
“What?” I shrilled, regardless of the obviousness of this truth. “What?”
“Before the storms return, the ice dragons will be weak, and their patrol of the skies will be significantly reduced,” he went on, continuing to look me in the eye with that steady gaze. “If we are to move you safely home, now is the time. If we hesitate—”
“Theon,” I cried, though I had very little by way of logic to interject. For the first time in a long time, my actions, my desires, had nothing to do with logic. For the first time in a long time, there was something—someone—I loved enough to make me stupid.
“—then we may not get another chance to transport you,” he finished, as if he didn’t know me at all.
But he did know me. He loved me. I didn’t doubt that with any fiber of my being.
“How could you think that I would leave you?” I asked him, my voice low and accusatory. “You think that I would go back to my world while you stayed here, an entire universe away? You think that I would just go back to DC, to the Shenandoah Institute, explain away how I disappeared days ago, and just stay, and do nothing, and know nothing, and pretend to be okay, while you fight for your life? Do you know me at all?”