things don’t want to talk to you, you’ll never get a word out of them as long as you live.’
Morrigan shrugged, unwrapping her cheese and pickle sandwich and handing half of it to Hawthorne, who gave her half of his cress and roast beef in return. ‘You’ve only been trying for a few weeks, though, haven’t you? Some of these dragons are hundreds of years old, Hawthorne. You might just need to have patience.’
‘I’ve had patience. I’m sick of having patience, it’s boring,’ Hawthorne moaned. ‘They’re so rude. I mean, I can’t even get so much as a mish kadrach f’al to my hal’clahar fejh alm’ok.’
Mahir made a choking noise, and hastily swallowed a mouthful of chicken sandwich. ‘Hal’clahar fejh alm’ok? Why are you telling them you’ve got a meat grinder at home? Don’t you think that sounds a bit … threatening?’
‘What?’ Hawthorne frowned. ‘No, that means your fire burns bright as the sun.’
‘Um, no,’ said Mahir, sounding half amused and half exasperated. ‘It really doesn’t. And I don’t know what you think mish kadrach f’al means, but I wouldn’t expect a dragon to tell you your eyes are as hungry as a foot any time soon.’
Morrigan laughed so hard she snorted chocolate milk out of her nose.
‘So how come they keep letting me ride them?’ said Hawthorne, scowling as he threw a paper napkin at her.
‘Maybe because your riding skills are better than your abysmal Draconian. I bet they all talk about you behind your back, though.’ Mahir stood up and brushed sandwich crumbs off his uniform, grinning down at them. ‘I’ve got to go – I promised Francis I’d translate a recipe for his gran. See you on the train.’
Morrigan was still struggling to contain her giggles after they’d waved Mahir off, and Hawthorne finally gave in and laughed too, shaking his head. ‘Shut up, milk-dribbler. Where have they stationed you tonight?’
‘Tenterfield,’ she said. ‘Outside the Wunderground station. It’s a grey zone. You?’
‘Solsbury Station. What’s a grey zone?’
‘The safest and most boring place to be, apparently.’ Morrigan sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘Far away from all the Scaly Sewer Beast breeding hotspots, but nowhere near the Golders Night action, either. I’m supposed to stop people entering the train station and direct them to the green zones. You know – the imaginary people who definitely won’t be there, because they’ll already be in the green zones.’
‘You’re in for a fun night, then,’ he said, smirking.
‘Hate to tell you this, meat-grinder, but Solsbury’s a grey zone, too.’
‘Oh, what?’ Hawthorne slumped back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. ‘Why have they split us up, anyway? Shouldn’t we be with our own unit?’
Morrigan finished the last bite of her sandwich before responding. ‘Miss Cheery said they’re partnering each of us with someone more experienced, since it’s our first Distraction.’
‘How much experience do you need to stand outside an empty train station for three hours?’ Hawthorne slid down even further until he was practically horizontal, and let out a long, low sigh like a deflating tyre. ‘I should have volunteered for the sewer mission with Thaddea. At least that won’t be boring.’
‘Well, cheer up,’ said Morrigan, scrunching up the paper bag their lunch came in as she got to her feet. ‘If you really want to wade through waist-deep sewage, there’s always next year.’
Morrigan would have chosen waist-deep sewage over being stuck with her designated ‘more experienced partner’ for three hours. Five minutes in, she was wishing she’d volunteered with Thaddea, too.
‘Just hurry up and do it.’
She scowled. ‘Do what, Heloise?’
‘You know what … Wundersmith.’
‘Shush.’ Morrigan whipped around, making sure nobody had overheard. ‘Are you insane? We’re in public! Nobody outside the Society is supposed to know. Do you realise how much trouble you could—’
‘Oh, please.’ Heloise rolled her eyes back in her head. She held one of her throwing stars in one hand while using it to clean the nails on her other. They were painted a vibrant, venomous green to match her badly coloured hair. ‘There’s nobody here. Everyone’s off hunting for treasure.’
‘They’re not hunting for treasure.’
They weren’t exactly hunting for treasure, but they might as well have been. Golders Night turned out to be quite a clever idea, although Morrigan didn’t fully understand the whole thing. It was a massive operation. The Wundrous Society had spent weeks organising it down to the very last detail, and Holliday Wu’s Public Distraction Department had been promoting it to death. Excitement levels in Nevermoor were so high even the