“Send the Fourth to lead,” I rasped. My throat scraped raw. “The Twenty-Seventh will flank them.”
“Fallione knows.” Greaves pressed his brow against my pauldron with a dull clang, breath rattling in his chest. He drew in a wheezing lungful, shoulders trembling as he gathered what strength remained.
A bitter laugh tore free before I could stop it. “We’re not as young as we used to be.”
“I’ve been telling you that.” His reply came with a strained huff. “One day you’ll be fat and have to use your sword as a cane.”
“May it be sooner than we think,” I muttered. Rest. I wanted a bed, cool sheets, silence. To earn it, I would need a few more days of this slaughter.
Greaves gave a breathless chuckle that turned into a cough. “Back to the manor.”
Together, we peeled off the wall, arms braced against each other for balance. A shared groan slipped between us as we prepared to launch onto the street and carve our way up through the levels.
“The king! Where is King Kallias?!” The cry sliced over the clash of steel and the thunder of hundreds of soldiers pounding along stone roads.
I stepped from the alcove and raised my sword high, teeth grinding with the effort. My golden armor caught what little light filtered through the haze, setting me apart from the sea of silver-toned steel. The motion drew a young lad in Radaanian green, a yellow feather trembling in his cap.
A messenger.
“My king!” He darted between shields and shoulders, ducked into our shelter, and doubled over, chest heaving. Dust streaked his freckled face. “General Fallione says the queen has entered Sol!”
I straightened. My scalp prickled. Unease crept cold beneath my armor. “Where is she?”
“In Sol–”
“Where?!” The roar ripped from me, harsh enough to sting my throat. My heart stuttered against my ribs. She couldn’t be here. She was meant to be on her brother’s withering dragon or safe within the manor’s walls.
Not here.
“Inside the city!” He gulped air as if drowning. “She was seen on the tenth level heading into–”
I plunged into the river of soldiers before he finished. My pauldron slammed against steel plates, sparks flaring as metal scraped. Exhaustion vanished, buried under a surge of dread. I fought toward a side door and wrenched it open. These roadsand halls lay etched into my bones. I knew which paths the people of Sol would barricade and which corridors they would leave clear for retreat.
Doors burst inward beneath my heel. Empty halls swallowed my footfalls and hurled them back at me in cruel echoes. Smoke clung low, carrying the sour stench of char and fear. Greaves stayed close, breath harsh, boots keeping pace with my frenzied speed.
She could not be there—of all places! She should’ve stayed in the manor. Helpless frustration coiled tight in my gut. I never thought her capable of such recklessness.
Grief tightened around my heart, cold fingers squeezing in anticipation of what I might find. A whisper crawled through my skull, insisting she was too far ahead, that I wouldn’t reach her in time.
My heel drove into the final door. Pain flared up my leg as wood splintered beneath the blow. The panel cracked and gave way, shards scattering across marble, and I charged into Sol.
It was gray.
Dim.
No brilliant white sun. The mirrors that once funneled morning light into the inner city lay shattered, their frames twisted, leaving stone washed in ash and shadow. Bleak.
My armor thundered as I tore down the hall toward the railing. Each step rang like a bell struck in warning. Cold marble met my palm when I reached it, and I leaned out, scanning the city below.
Far beneath stretched the white expanse, windows small and dull, towers rising in silent tiers. The usual hum of merchants and children had vanished. No carts rattled. No bells chimed. The quiet lent the illusion of a sleeping city, peaceful at a glance, hollow at its core. Long, crossing staircases laced the levels. Acomplex system of elevators hung motionless in their shafts, ropes slack, platforms abandoned.
My gaze climbed the circular tiers, counting without meaning to.
One.
Two.
Higher.
