By the time Tuft and Chiddle struck muddy road and dissolved his ice, Lapis knew something was wrong. Dov had not ripped off the doors to the gate towers, so no one was inside raising the portcullis. Why not? Were there guards on the other side, waiting? Had the mercs from the fort arrived? The khentauree put a hand over her right one and patted her fingers; she unclenched them and splayed them against his waist, hoping the stretch settled her whirling thoughts.

She could do this. She could protect the wagon and Faelan until they reached the bottom of the hill. The tech weapon she shoved into her coat pocket bumped against her as they raced to the others, reminding her of its presence. She would protect Faelan, even if she had to use that.

Jetta looked at her brother, back to the shielded men who had not moved a footstep since Tuft threw the pointy icicle into them. “Why do I have the feeling this is going to get annoying?” she asked, pushing her stray hair behind her ears in a futile attempt to keep them from her face.

Faelan laughed softly. “Because your instincts are impeccable,” he told her. She smiled at that.

Chiddle buzzed and swiveled his head to look at them. “There is a shield,” he said. “Dov says his scans show the crank broken and something jammed into the chains for the portcullis.”

“Do they have the entire wall protected?” Faelan asked.

“No. Sanna thinks they would, but their aquatheerdaal supply runs low. No power, no shield.” He pointed far beyond the gate to the left. “Between the first cannons and the gate is shieldless stone. We will need to slide the wagon to reach it because the mud is deep. The bird that Darl flies sees soldiers waiting opposite it.”

“How nice, they’re so obvious,” Jetta muttered.

“They know of the break. Jhor believes the node is empty, and they have no resupply.” Chiddle pointed right. “The shield extends beyond the guards and the bikes, but not to the corner. There are soldiers opposite. They are on the edge of the cliff, and the way down is steeper. Sanna does not think she can control the wagon if we take that way.”

They galloped to the gate, avoiding those with weapons who hid behind the wagon, those at the corners pointing their tech at the men with shields. Tuft placed a sheer, half-circle ice wall for cover, rectangular breaks in the center large enough to shoot through. How long would the barrier last, if the enemy gathered their bravery and attacked?

Under Double Catch’s direction, most of the protectors changed position to the wall, with four remaining as lookouts for the vacant left side of the road.

Patch trotted up, his patch lights as active as Lapis had ever witnessed. “Yvere says a Swift’s waiting for evac, but we need to get to a wider stretch of the road just over two-thirds down, where it can land safely.” He flipped his hand up. “By the looks of them, the jets won’t last much longer, so when we hit the road, we need to run.”

Lapis looked up; the giant ship stretched beyond the gate, but she could not tell how far. Hopefully the evac space was beyond its reach, because it would suck to get rescued, only to have a falling hull squish them before they could leave.

The flash of memory of the two ‘shrouds crashing in Dentheria increased her worry and tenseness.

“And Requet?” Faelan asked.

“Ulfrik’s waiting for his signal. He and a Minq cargo Swift will get everyone left on board off before it hits the ground.”

“I’m surprised he’s still up there,” Lapis murmured. Her encounter with the man led her to believe he was a typical sulky son of a Dentherion councilor, throwing fits and family name around to get his way.

“It’s a weird time to show a spine,” Patch agreed. His eye snaked over to Perben, who squelched to them on the side of the road, his boot prints filling with water as soon as he made them. The traitor stood on the opposite side of Tuft, out of kicking, if not icing, distance. He held his weapon over his shoulder rather than in his palms, and his stiff stance and shaking fist made her wonder at his emotional state.

“Faelan, you need to go with the wagon,” he said.

“No. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Perben’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled at the free strands of curly brown bangs dangling in his eyes before shoving them behind his ear. “It’s the safest space we have.”

“Yes, and the injured and non-fighters require it more.”

“Non-fighters?” His gaze flicked to the wagon.

“Like Diz,” Lapis supplied. Perben’s lip lifted enough at the forger’s name that she knew he disliked the man. True, he did not have a lot of friends, but he had done well by the rebellion, even if it were to save his own skin.

“He’ll be fine, with Trixsy prodding him on,” Faelan said.

“Trixsy?” she asked, peering over her shoulder at him. “His friend?”

Patch grinned despite his unhappiness with the company. “She’s an Underville boss,” he said. Shock drifted through her at that. Then what was she doing at the palace? “She’s the primary force behind the Docks workers getting better pay, which is how she knows Diz.”

“Then what is she doing here?”

“She and Diz were signing papers in the commerce building when runners showed up and demanded they join the crowd. She came up with a plan to rescue as many as they could and get them to a syndicate hiding place in the stables, banking on the fact that no one at the palace has any clue how to deal with people of her stature. They treat little people as if they’re invisible, and knowing the noble mind as I do, everyone would have been so shocked at her tromping onto the platform and cutting the ropes, they would have let her do what she wanted while their brains tried to catch up. Good thing you’re so likeable.” Her partner jerked his chin at her brother.

Perben smashed his lips together, frustration leaking from every pore as he glared at Patch, then turned to her brother. “You are more important, Faelan,” he insisted. “You’re the rebel Leader. The rebellion won’t survive without you.”

“It will,” he said, as calmly angry as Lapis had ever heard him. “As it survived my father’s death.”

Perben’s gaze jumped from him to Jetta, and he ground his teeth, loud, obnoxious. The woman’s glare was as cold as Tuft’s ice, and she rubbed at the trigger to her weapon, a deadly promise he was smart enough to understand. “You’ve no heir,” he blurted.

That was a stupid thing to say. Midir, as the rightful heir to the Jilvaynan throne, was the ultimate leader of the rebellion. He would make certain, if something happened to Faelan, an appropriate person would take Lead, like Sherridan or Caitria or Tearlach. Her uncle could step in, as much as he would hate doing so, bringing family ties with him.

An heir was not Perben’s issue, and Lapis wondered who, exactly, the traitor thought they should leave behind to make certain her brother survived. The injured? Her, the one who was already supposed to be dead anyway?

Faelan half-smiled. “The remnants of the Blue Council are stronger than you believe, and Midir will see that it flourishes.”

“None of them have the respect you do, inside and outside Jilvayna.”

“No?”

“You underestimate the strength of your voice.”

“And you overestimate the strength of yours.”

Perben laughed, low and bitter. “I remain dedicated to you and what you want to achieve.”

“Which is why I will be the last through the gate.”

The traitor’s cheek twitched before he turned sharply on his heel and strode to the portcullis, where Dov, Sanna and Jhor had an animated discussion. Faelan hmphed, but Lapis did not miss the pain underlying the sound.

“He doesn’t expect forgiveness, does he?” she asked, wary. He led Kale’s men into Nicodem to slaughter everyone there, including the Leader of the rebels. How in the Pit did he think that made him dedicated to the cause?

“No. He knew, if I found out, what would happen. His loyalty’s warped, but if that will help keep the others safe down the hill, I’ll abuse it for all its worth.” He hugged her in reassurance. “Don’t worry about Perben until we reach the bottom. He’ll die before he sees me recaptured or killed.” He pulled back at Jetta’s sour, very loud, snort. “I never expected any of you to risk yourselves to save me. I plan to make that luck stretch for years, not just a few hours. Besides, bloody corpse isn’t my style.”

Lapis sucked in unexpected laughter at the identical, incredulous expressions Patch and Jetta wore. Faelan squirmed; uncomfortable, was he? He should be, after that statement.

“Vision spoke of Star’s Luck before Dov and I departed,” Tuft said, his attention on the expanse of muddy earth and dead grass to the left, as if expecting a unit of guards to run over the next rise. “She said Maphezet Kez misunderstood, thought the sweet winds blew fortune his way. He molded and shaped without recognizing that, in truth, the luck was with the khentauree.”

“May your luck touch our escape,” Faelan said.

“Like you believe in luck,” Lapis muttered.

“Might as well. If not, this will be a short trip past the wall.”

Patch tensed, Tuft’s head jerked around, and Lapis looked; nothing, then more bikes jumped the rise behind the shielded men, who remained hunched down, protected and unmoving. Tuft buzzed as the riders fought to keep their bikes upright upon landing, sloppy mud spraying in all directions as their tires skidded.

Jetta patted her thighs. “I need to get down,” she said. Tuft released the ice clamp, and she slid from Chiddle’s back and hopped to an open hole. She sighted and fired; everyone she targeted tumbled to the ground and did not get back up. Lapis touched the weapon in her pocket, her previous school-girl admiration for her roaring back. She knew Jetta now; she did not have to stare with sparkles in her eyes at her incredible feats!

The mud turned to ice, and all wheels lost traction. The remaining bikes crashed, some crushing their riders beneath them. After the last one skidded into a jutting boulder and flung its rider away, the frozen surface melted, leaving mud and deep puddles.

“There should be more,” Patch said, slowly rotating his head so his patch could scan the area. “Even without the Dentherion soldiers and those who quit, Gall retains more guards at the palace than what we’ve encountered.”

“Five metgal they’re with him,” Jetta said.

“Five more, that I think you’re right.” Patch rubbed at his chin. “Are the mercs coming to fight us, or evac him? You’d think, if he’s interested in getting Faelan and Double Catch back, we’d get the full rush of palace guards with janks as backup, to wear us down before the stronger force arrives.”

“Kale pulled him from the viewing box,” Lapis said. “Even if Gall didn’t want to leave, his general thought it was a good idea to get him out.”

“Kale’s smart enough, he might have realized the ‘shroud’s coming down. We need birds at the servants’ entrance and the north-east bottom of the cliff,” Faelan said. “If they’re taking a carriage to meet a Swift, those are the ways to get out that can accommodate him but not attract attention.”

“I’ll tell Yvere,” Patch said. He patted Lapis’s leg. “You haven’t used that tech yet.”

She did not appreciate that both he and Jetta laughed. Tuft looked at them, at her, and turned back around without saying a word. Good for him, knowing when not to push.

“If you laugh, I’ll elbow you, brother dearest,” she promised as her partner took his chuckling self away.

Which, of course, prompted said laughter—and he clamped down on her upper arms so she could not stick her joint in his gut.

Double Catch trotted to them, his gaze on the riders who yelled at the group with shields as they did their best to take cover with the men and not get hit. The guards did not move to let them in; smart, if cowardly, letting the new arrivals suffer the attacks while they remained behind their protection.

“Dov says he can blow a hole in the gate, but it will take a lot of power if he has to break the shield, too. Jhor thinks he found the node, but it’s buried deep and encased in one of those no-tamper boxes, so we can’t reach it. Good news, though, it’s fluctuating. We can get through during one of those break points, just not all at once.”

“So break through at the spots they’ve left unshielded and fight guards, or get through here and maybe get fried by the shield regenerating.”

“’Bout it.” The Rams boss laughed, arching his back. “I thought I left this kind of adventure far behind. My bones are too old.” He sounded like the grand-das at the Night Market, hunched in chairs under the awnings and staring at the streets just beyond their toes, complaining about the youth and reminiscing about their own scandalous escapades from decades ago.

“What does Sanna suggest?” Faelan asked.

“She thinks we should go through here. Dov blows it, they take the wagon through, and whoever can’t follow will wait with you and Chiddle for the next fluctuation.”

Tuft pulled his attention from the slipping and sliding enemy, eyed the gate, then looked down at Double Catch. “Sanna says the fluctuations are random, though spaced not so far apart. It will leave both groups more vulnerable.”

“True, but I bet we’ll use less power getting through and taking the road than we would fighting the guards on the other side right after we collapse the wall. The road past this gate has shorter crossbacks, too. If we go through the middle, there won’t even be a road, just mud, maybe snow.”

A jet flickered and went out. Creaking as if the dead groaned together meant they had run out of time. Lapis looked up; the ship dipped to the side, and horror zinged through her. She did not want to get squished by a ‘shroud! Or caught in the fiery after-crash. Or—

“I think blowing the gate is our best option for getting out before the ‘shroud comes down,” Faelan said.

Sanna trotted to the rear of the wagon while Dov positioned himself at the front, near the tongue. Double Catch returned to the front and gave orders about racing through; the grim determination of both the rebels and the Rams reflected her own as they lined up, ready to run. With help, Jetta slid onto Chiddle’s back, and the ice clamps made certain she would not slide off during the upcoming battle.

The shield flickered. Stances shifted, people coughed, and silence descended. Patch glanced at her, and she blew him a kiss; he gave her his charming half-grin, the one that made her insides weak in more intimate situations. He would live, she would live. No lover’s dying over the ill-fated demise of the other. She hated those stories, anyway, because unserious decisions always led to disaster.

The screams of the bike riders became shrill, though she could not see what terrified them other than the obvious. Most had flailed to the rear of the shield bearers, who stubbornly remained where they were. Tuft buzzed, and Chiddle’s head swiveled to him. He subsided, but she bet he thought an icicle would solve their problem. Or maybe one of those spinning ice attacks. Make it wide enough, it could cut through the entire front line.

The yellow glare disappeared.

Half the portcullis blew outward, bars bouncing downhill, those still attached warped into smoking curls. The scent of burnt soil and iron made Lapis gag, and she stuffed the back of her hand against her nose to curtail the stench. Dov grabbed the tongue and surged ahead; Sanna pushed the back of the wagon, and with the slick ice on the wheels, they slid through without bogging down. Most of the protectors ran after them before a spluttering sizzle gave the rest of them pause.

The shield re-spanned the gate.

Annoyingly, Perben remained on her side. Of course he did. Patch, Brander and Double Catch made it across, though she had no idea whether to feel relief or worry. She watched them follow the road to the first crossback, and anxiety twisted her insides. This was the true test, them against the guards. How could she have hope?

Because they should have died at the platform, but Gall’s people proved incapable, and the khentauree magnificent. That had not changed.

Jetta hissed. “Dammit! Gliders!”

Dirt burst into the air, hiding the wagon. NO!

Lapis sat straight, her breath hissing through her teeth. What could she do? They were stuck on the other side!

Red beams shot up the hill, more robust than the aquatheerdaal attacks that the enemy had so far employed. A Ram leaned towards the portcullis, then glanced at Faelan.

“Red?” she asked.

“Minq tech,” he said. “Jo Ban’s had a team researching alternatives to aquatheerdaal, and they found something that worked. Looks like they carted a cannon up here.”

A cannon? She did not think Jo Ban would target the king for Faelan and Double Catch, but Midir would. Was he there?

“The Minq, eh?” The woman tapped her fingers in a fast rhythm on her weapon to loosen them up. “Looks like we’ll be owing them more than a meal at the Night Market.”

More beams followed, casting the area beyond the gate in a pallid red glow.

“Or maybe two or three,” Faelan amended.

“They are at the treeline below,” Chiddle said, his voice low so it did not carry to the enemy on the hill behind them. “There are many people, many weapons, and they provide cover for the wagon.”

Red stained the atmosphere, drowning out the subtle yellow tinge to the shield across the gate. Dammit, how were they going to know when to go?

A machine twice the size of a tech bird sailed over the wall, looking like a bulky tricycle encased in grey metal with an orange triangle attached to the top. A glider? Lapis had never encountered one. What did they do?

A hatch opened, and a dark, pointed cylinder dropped from it.

Her stomach leapt to her throat. RUN!

Chiddle shot the object; it exploded before it fell far from the bottom, tearing a hole in the machine. The wall shield blurred as debris slammed into it, bounced off, and pelted everything below in flaming bits and strings of mud. Pieces of stone and metal struck Tuft’s ice; the top curved over them, but the extension cracked and crumbled as a mostly intact chunk struck it. Everyone hunched down, covering their heads with their arms.

The glider careened over their heads and hit the ground behind them, flames and smoke pouring from the debris as it somersaulted away.

Two more followed the first, and the shield men rose and headed for them.

“Guards coming!” Jetta yelled.

Rebels and Rams sighted through the gaps in the ice and fired at the approaching enemy, their strikes deflecting off the shields in all directions. The riders slopped through the mud in their wake, aiming for their bikes.

At least one fell to a rebound strike.

Ice plastered the glider bottoms, preventing the drop of more explosions. Pointed poles slid out from two pipes bent to look like handlebars, and cyan beams struck the ice shield in quick succession. Cracks formed, parts crumbled, and Tuft’s buzzy growl sent a shiver up Lapis’s back.

“Line up at the gate and wait,” Chiddle said, his voice slicing through the other noise.

Everyone rushed to the hole as bikes roared towards them, tires flinging enough mud around that the shield men stopped. The ice barrier sundered under the glider attack, and the machines rose, having opened the way.

“GO!” Chiddle yelled.

Everyone on the ground surged through. Faelan and Jetta fired at the bikes as they reached the road. One skidded to the other side, and the rider gunned the vehicle to come abreast of Tuft. The man drew a weapon from a holster attached to his leg; Lapis triggered her gauntlet and cut the front wheel in half. The bike collapsed, and the rider sailed over the handlebars and bounced into the portcullis.

Tuft jumped the spinning fragment and raced after Chiddle.

Yellow flared where the iron bars sank into the wall.

Another bike roared behind them. Faelan fired, missing as Tuft veered right to avoid the limp body. The rider lifted the front tire, as if to hammer down on the khentauree’s back legs.

They swept through the hole. Zinging electric sparks raced back into place, cutting through the bike. And the rider.

She whimpered and tried to squelch her gore-induced nausea. She had no time to get sick!

Ear-ringing explosions erupted to her left. Two piles of flames burned; Perben looked back at them and aimed above their heads. She looked up; another glider, twice as large as the others, flew close enough . . .

Perben’s shot made the machine wobble and lose altitude. She stood, the ice clamping her thighs taking her weight, pointed her fist up, and triggered the beam. She sent it out as far as it could go.

The purple struck the belly; she could not tell whether it penetrated through to the top, but sparks flew and smoke rolled from the puncture. A glowing spear caught it, the momentum carrying it away and to the ground before it exploded, sending a shower of mud and rock into the air.

Chiddle formed another spear, his gaze on three more speeding their way. Lightning sizzled across the tip, and he swiveled his torso to them, switched arms so he did not nail Jetta with his elbow, and prepared to throw. The rebel sighted but did not fire.

“Awesome,” Faelan said, satisfaction lacing his words. “Let’s see what else you can destroy.”