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nearest shrubs. He leaned on the staff and made his way down the steps.
    Pink zipped ahead of him and zigzagged through the trees. Everywhere she went, the leaves seemed to follow in the happy wake of her wings.
    They sure aren’t taking very good care of him.
    Tristan glanced over his shoulder to view the Makai castle. The outside of the building resembled a long-forgotten hunter’s lodge.
    He looks awful.
    Something seemed missing from the view he’d expected. Donovan was still standing at the top of the stairs, which were now made of aged wood instead of stone. Victor sat on the bottom step beside Landon.
    Who is speaking? Tristan asked, careful to keep his thinking private.
    Could it be? Several tiny voices overlapped with excited whispers. Were we wrong to let them care for you? Do you wish us to help you escape?
    I can’t see you. Tristan spun in a tight circle, shielding himself even though the voice didn’t sound or feel threatening. I don’t understand.
    Are they punishing you?
    No. Who’s speaking?
    Are you ill? A chorus of concerns and speculations came from every direction.
    No, I’m not ill. Not technically.
    Then, you are punishing yourself?
    Tristan cringed at the question. Why would I do that? Tell me where you are.
    Pink returned from her loop around the clearing and hovered a few inches above a shrub. She pointed down with her index finger and flew away.
    He’d known the plants could communicate with each other, and with Dorian. And the little cactus appeared to have heard his plea for help. Dorian had even received his message, even if somewhat skewed by the time it reached her. Yet with all the evidence, he found it hard to believe the voices were coming from the surrounding shrubbery.
    You can’t talk to a dragon that way! someone called with a screechy voice.
    What’s he going to do, fall on me? He can barely stand.
    He probably will fall. Those with thorns—blunt your tips!
    Is he dying?
    His skin is so transparent.
    I thought the humans were helping him.
    Tristan spun again, surrounded by all the comments. They are helping me and I’m not dying. Tristan faced the original shrub Pink had pointed out and knelt before it, partly because his legs were about to give out, and partly because he had to focus on one source of information.
    “Do you have contact with Molajah?” Donovan asked. “Tristan?”
    “Give me a minute.” Tristan touched the scraggly shrub with the tip of his finger. The upper almond-shaped leaves were a silvery purple while the undergrowth was a vivid green. Do you have a name?
    Pōkerekere.
    Pōkerekere. Tristan did his best to pronounce the name the same, but mostly failed. Do you know a girl named Dorian?
    Of course. She was here not long ago. Are they withholding food from you?
    No. I just—
    You are starving yourself? Purposely?
    No!
    Then why are you so weak and frail? Dragons are not known for being so.
    Tristan tried to deny it then snapped his mouth shut. Pink landed on his shoulder and hissed in his ear. “Tristan!”
    I’m doing the best I can , he thought angrily, shooing Pink away. What do you know about dragons?
    They are fair, loyal, intelligent. I see none of these things in you. Have you judged yourself unworthy of good health?
    Tristan glared at the motionless plant and clamped his jaw shut. I need to speak to Dorian, if you can send her a message.
    Answer my questions first. The volume of whispers rose for a few seconds, then died into silence.
    I’m still adjusting to the idea of being a dragon.
    So you believed you were human, now you know you’re not. How long will it take to stop living a lie? You’re a dragon! The only choice you have in the matter is whether you want to be strong or weak. Wise or foolish. Agile or clumsy. Is your goal to be a breathing bag of bones? You must be the sorriest excuse of a dragon I’ve ever seen—
    “Tristan!” shouted Pink, tugging on Tristan’s earlobe. “They’re here.”
    Tristan scowled at the