“There’s got to be more to it than that,” Starflight said. “Why is this so important? Why do you need venom-resistant armor? The RainWings would never have bothered you if you left them alone.”
His father shrugged. “The queen has her reasons, I have mine. I don’t get involved in her plans. For me, scientific discovery is reason enough.”
Starflight looked at the clamps on the wall, then down at the floor, too sickened to ask any more questions.
“Well, I wish I had time to show you more,” Mastermind said, setting his helmet up on a shelf. “But my daily scheduled meeting with the queen is upon me.”
“Do you get to see her?” Starflight asked.
“No, no,” said Mastermind. “Three moons, no. No one sees the queen. Not for the last nine years or so. She’s very private.”
Really, Starflight thought.
“I wish I had some more progress to report,” Mastermind mused. “But telling her about you will certainly be a triumph. Come back tomorrow and we can get to know each other better, yes?” He wrapped his wings around Starflight and hugged him, not waiting for an answer. “It was fantastic to meet you, son. I am so very proud.”
He ushered them out the door and locked it, then slid away toward a tunnel at the far end of the balcony. Starflight glanced along the row of doors, imagining tortured RainWings behind each one.
“Wow,” Fatespeaker said. “So. Turns out we might be horrible. I did not foresee that at all.”
Starflight sat down, his shoulders slumping. “I believed everything I read — about NightWings being so noble and brilliant and perfect. This … I can’t understand this.”
“So where have you been?” she asked curiously. “You’re not like them. And who’s Mangrove?”
“I was raised by the Talons of Peace, too,” he said, hoping he could avoid the Mangrove question by distracting her. “Actually, I’m the one in the prophecy. Or I was. I guess I’m expendable, since they’re replacing me with you.”
“What?” She took a step back, fluttering her wings. “Wait, I never saw you. I lived right in the Talons of Peace camp.”
“We were kept hidden,” Starflight explained. “Under a mountain. No one was supposed to find us.”
“There you are.” Morrowseer landed beside them with a thump. “If you’re quite finished with your little chat, there are other pressing matters we could attend to.”
“I’m not finished,” Fatespeaker said, whirling toward him. “He’s all special and chosen, too! How can we both be in the prophecy?”
“Only one of you will be,” said Morrowseer. “But that’s why you’re both here. So that we can decide which one.”
So there’s still a chance, Starflight thought.
“Don’t you know? Didn’t you deliver that prophecy?” Fatespeaker asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Prophecies can be complicated,” Morrowseer said coldly.
“Oooo,” Fatespeaker said. “Good comeback. I should write that down and use it on Viper.”
“The real problem,” Morrowseer went on, “is that neither of you are suitable candidates whatsoever, but we have no other dragonets of the right age we could use, so it must be one of you.” He growled. “We apparently made a grave error allowing you to be raised outside the tribe, where we thought you’d be safe from — well, just in case. It has always been our assumption that NightWing superiority is something every NightWing is hatched with.”
He looked down his nose at the two dragonets. “Evidently we were wrong.”
“But why aren’t I suitable?” Starflight asked. He hated the plaintive tone in his voice, but he couldn’t seem to quash it. “What have I done?”
“You have no leadership qualities,” Morrowseer said. “You make NightWings look like cowards and followers. And you antagonized our ally.”
“Blister?” Starflight said, uncomfortably remembering his interaction with her in the Kingdom of the Sea. He’d tried to find reasons to support her as the next SandWing queen — really, he’d tried — but she was too manipulative and too untrustworthy. And he didn’t like the way she’d looked at Sunny, as if the little dragonet would make an excellent snack.
“You have placed our whole plan in jeopardy,” Morrowseer said.
“What plan?” Starflight cried. “How am I supposed to make anything happen when I don’t even know what you really want?”
To his surprise, Morrowseer actually paused and thought about that.
“No,” he rumbled finally. “Dragonets can’t be trusted with secrets. Perhaps if you are the one chosen, we can reveal more. But all you should really need to know is how to follow orders.” He scowled. “Now come.”
Morrowseer swept away, lashing his tail.
Starflight and Fatespeaker exchanged glances. “Have your visions given you any hints?” Starflight asked. “About whatever their secret plan is, I mean?”