Random pieces of debris continued to fall from the sky, especially after yet another explosion. It sounded faint, but the shower of dirt, bits of metal and small stones afterwards proved it had as much force behind it as the previous ones. Lapis made certain her umbrella protected both her and Patch before she craned around, but the fog hid the top of the mountain from view.

“We did it,” he said with a small, pleased smile.

“Not yet we haven’t.”

“Who’s going to stop us? Arrest us? The guards and mercs have bigger problems.” He kissed the side of her head. “I didn’t think we would. I thought we were going to die with Faelan.”

She sucked in a shuddery breath at the admission. “Then why follow me?”

“Because I meant what I said.” He squeezed her fingers, his expression gentle. “You held me together when I needed it the most. You might not have recognized it, but I did, and eight years later, I won’t let some self-righteous asshole take you from me.” His laughter was low and short. “Though, truthfully, I thought I’d take out a few dignitaries, maybe that fuck who calls himself a king, and then meet the Stars. But the khentauree had different ideas.”

“We couldn’t have made it without them.” She looked over her shoulder again, worry pounding her, but no grey mechanical body flowed through the fog.

“No. We would have hung, and no one would have cut us down in time.” He huffed, then shook his head. “I wonder how Perben found out. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near Jiy, let alone close enough to ride in and be there.”

In past times, she was certain rebels would have lauded him for his bravery, but there was nothing brave about the traitor who killed her little brother, who killed Miki. He deserved a quick knife in the gut, not accolades. Anger built that Faelan saved him, and she shoved it back down; they needed to reach safety before she fell to rage. “I can’t believe Diz, Nolin, Trixsy and her bodyguard were there.”

“I can’t believe Trixsy wanted to do something so rash. She must be feeling shackled to her position, and needed something to liven things up.”

Hanging would have livened things up.

The crunch of boots, the stray word, and faint crowd noise accompanied them down the stairs. They did not have to worry about a random staff member glancing out a window and noticing them, either; terraces lined with leafless berryburr trees sat on each side. Nobles loved the pink petals during the bloom, and when the over-sweet fruit ripened, they made exquisite pies. She had not realized so many grew within Jiy; she thought bakers purchased them from orchards to the southeast.

She shook her head. What odd stray thoughts; she needed to form a plan to reach the rebels and safety, not wish she ate the syrupy treat.

The bottom contained a wide landing with benches and large ceramic vases that held more leafless trees. A paved walkway led from it, winding through bushes and evergreen trees and black metal garden lamps. The once-pristine snow had a dusting of ash, as if the wind deposited a few grey clumps and then changed direction. Lapis caught the receding backs of Faelan and Jetta before they disappeared into the fog, and hastened her step. Patch stretched his legs, though not with the stride she expected.

“Are you hurt?”

He glanced at her, then shrugged. “Bruised,” he admitted. “And yes, it hurts, but as long as I keep going, it’ll be fine.” He tapped her head with his forehead. “I’m fine, Lapis.”

He better be. Carting him to safety when they were this close would piss her off. Trying to hold on to her irritation, she lifted the umbrella. “Should we ditch these?”

“No. They’re created from khentauree metal, and we don’t want them to make it into the underground markets.”

Oh. True.

She heard stone crumble, then hit the ground. Frowning, she peered ahead; Patch put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her to the left. The others hunched down behind a whitewashed wall, and they joined them. Shouts and commands and odd techy noises came from just beyond the immediate street.

Her partner touched his patch, and the lights sped around the border, blinking in a random rhythm. “Tech weapons, a good many of them. We hit a face-off. I’m not familiar with half of what my sensors are picking up.”

“So we assume the mercs from Fort Duren or janks are in the streets, probably fighting Minq.” Jetta studied the garden. “Where are we, Patch?”

“The King Loren Gardens. They’re owned by the crown, but maintained by Jiy. They’re strictly for the upper class’s enjoyment, so considering the hour, there shouldn’t be anyone out and about. Can’t say the same for whoever’s fighting in the streets.”

“How far are we from Adrastos’s mansion?” Faelan asked. “I’d thought to join the resistance bombarding the palace, but with the skyshroud down, they’ve probably scattered, and we don’t have the khentauree to tell us where they went.”

“It’s a ways down the slope, but it’s the nearest safehouse on western Green Castle.”

“So all we have to do is avoid antsy noble guards and fleeing citizens who may or may not be armed, and whoever is battling in the streets. Easy enough,” Jetta said. Perben smashed his lips together, as if he wanted to say something nasty but withheld. He should; Lapis was not averse to punching him in the mouth. Would piss him off, but if it kept him silent for the rest of their journey, well worth it.

Shouts neared; Patch rose from his crouch. “Follow me.”

They retreated back down the path, then took another way that curved around a snow-filled fountain in the center of an iced pool. The new route led to a gated exit. Patch used the two crossbars to push himself up and onto the top of the stone wall, which he straddled so he could help them clamber over, even Perben. Lapis half-hoped they would leave him, but knew her desire was fruitless; the traitor, being tall enough to get over the obstacle by himself, would take the insult in stride and follow anyway.

They entered a north-south street that ran in front of multi-storied businesses with gold décor on their signs and doors. Jewelry, perfume, makeup, high-end clothes with embroidered traditional patterns, and footwear designed for height rather than practicality filled the glass display windows, and the lack of bars or other theft deterrents proved that in normal times, the city guard patrolled often enough to make sticky fingers think twice about stealing something.

None had opened, and Lapis doubted they would. Once the fog cleared and Jiy got a good look at the damage the ‘shroud did, shopping would not be the highest priority. Or maybe it would; too many rich families had no care for events outside their small world of backstabbing and fake intrigue.

The sounds of fighting reached them, and Patch hastened to a fog-filled alley packed with trash bins and odd smells, as if rancid perfume coated everything. She winced and fought not to choke; she had chased stakes into places with rotting food and moldy fish that smelled better than that.

“This doesn’t seem like a place I’d expect a clash,” Perben said, glancing over his shoulder.

“It’s not,” Patch agreed. “The Crowned Loren neighborhood has gardens, these businesses, and mansions owned by Gall supporters who aren’t as favored as those living higher up, but that he still likes. There isn’t much to gain by invading it. I’m betting the fighters retreated when the ‘shroud blew, happened upon each other again, and picked up where they left off.”

“Either that, or one side got into it with noble guards.” Jetta sighed, exasperated, but something about the situation pricked at Lapis. Why was there fighting this far down, when they had witnessed none above? She did not think evacuees clogging the streets would have prevented enemies from clashing, and it seemed strange for both sides to kindly wait until they encountered sparser areas.

They exited onto another business-heavy street. Again, no wealthy pedestrians or shopkeeps within sight, but one three-story building with an over-sized sign that read ‘Kelvington’s’ had glass strewn onto the paving stones from the broken display windows. No other shop had any damage.

Patch paused, pivoted, and waved at them to get back into the alley. They hustled inside and planted their backs against the wall; she hoped the smell had not permeated the stone and transferred to her coat.

“What’s up?” Faelan asked.

“There’s fifteen people in that business with the broken windows.” Patch peeked around the corner and whipped back. “City guards, and they’re carting boxes out.”

“That’s odd,” Faelan whispered as the brittle crackle of crunched glass and cursing reached them.

Patch pressed the interior of his patch, covered the lights with his hand, and glanced around the corner again. “You know what’s odder? More boxes with Mesaalle Kez’s stamp.”

“Do they have theerdaala minerals in them?” Faelan asked.

He shook his head. “No. I’m not sure what’s inside. Something that carries an electric charge, and that’s all I’m picking up.”

“Do we know anything about this store?” Jetta asked, frowning deeply.

“It sells high-end court dresses,” Patch said. “It’s owned by the Kelvington family but run by Brusha Norie, a seamstress from Andef. The place employs dozens of sewers, and because Kelvington’s favored at court, they get to use sewing machines instead of relying on hand stitching. Because they can make dresses faster, they’re a well-patronized store.”

Lapis lifted her lip. While she had not heard of Kelvington’s, she knew about other such businesses. The rich owners took advantage of the sewers, paying them poverty wages while working them into exhaustion. Some rats had tried to pull themselves from the streets by hiring on, and they inevitably walked out, disgusted. She hated their tales, not only because of the exploitation, but because it was another reason for the kids to remain on the wrong side of the law after reaching majority. If regular employers treated them so poorly, why not stick to the Grey and Stone Streets, hook up with an underboss or syndicate? At least then they had a chance to feed themselves and pay for a room, rather than starve, with the profits of their labor going into a noble’s gullet.

“Is Kelvington’s associated with Seeza?” Perben asked. “If not, why are city guards cleaning it out?”

“I don’t think so,” Patch said. “But I also never thought Seeza would have anything to do with someone like Kez, either. Her family’s popular enough at court they don’t need a better-off foreign ally to prop them up.”

Lapis stared at her boots. “Patch, do you know if that mansion we saw Seeza at was her family home? I thought it was, but what if she’s ordering the guard to steal Kez’s stuff instead?”

“We should check it out,” Faelan said.

“NO.”

Faelan jerked back at the chorus that met his suggestion. Both Jetta and Perben glared with stubborn disapproval, but he focused on her.

“The point is to get you to safety,” she whispered, her heart twisting. “We didn’t rescue you just to have the city guard grab you when we’re this close to escaping.”

His half-smile held acceptance and regret. “Alright. I’ll send someone to check later.”

“Let’s go, before they come back.” Patch popped from the wall and hit the road at a run.

Weariness fought with fear as she sped after her partner. How long was she going to last? She longed for food and water, would even suffer a glass of wake juice for the boost. Embarrassment at her fatigue rose, but Faelan also slowed, his step faltering, the dark beneath his eyes strengthening.

Of course he was tired. She thought of him, alone, in a cell, unable to sleep, thinking of his impending execution . . .

Her lungs clenched on tears when she most needed them to breathe.

Patch dropped to a slow trot in response, keeping the pace steady as they wound through streets just beginning to fill with people. No nobles as far as Lapis could tell, but noblehouse staff and couriers with their wagons went about their business. No one seemed upset or jumpy, so she doubted they knew what had happened up the hill.

Personal guards, once they recognized Patch, ignored them. That suited her; her want to fight had drained out her toes. After Faelan slowed to a fast walk and the rest of them did the same, she wondered if they would reach Lord Adrastos’s mansion, or collapse in the center of the road, begging passersby for wake juice.

“Stay alert.”

Lapis jerked at Patch’s rough command, then looked around. Fog still concealed their surroundings, but downhill, just at the edges of her sight, sat the tall wrought-iron gates of their destination. Over a dozen guards in Lord Adrastos’s colors stood in front of the place, tech weapons in hand rather than slung over their shoulders, ignoring the nervous stares from pedestrians as they hastened by.

“I don’t recognize the guards,” Faelan said. “Remain cautious.”

Too late to slow down; they continued to walk at the same pace so as not to attract more suspicion. That her companions managed nonchalant while her insides wormed around like a dozen snakes pricked her jealousy. She did not think she had bad enough luck that her nerves would get them shot mere steps from safety, but the day had handed out nasty surprises from the beginning.

As they neared, she noted the odd appearance of the weapons. They had a red hue, which normally indicated cheap tech from the undermarket, but they looked sleek, metallic, and cared-for, rather than gloppily painted. The barrels and sights glowed with lights similar to Patch’s patch, proving their advanced tech origins. Had Jo Ban loaned them to Lord Adrastos?

The guards, as one, pointed the firearms at their group, a voiceless warning that coincided with a loud buzz from behind the gate.

“These are the humans we fled with,” Chiddle said.

Chiddle! Lapis rushed up, uncaring about Patch’s hiss or the still-suspicious guards who kept their weapons trained on her. She skidded to a stop and peered up at him through the bars.

“You made it! You didn’t get squished by the skyshroud!”

“No,” the khentauree said, prancing backwards as the gate slowly swung open. “We could not follow your path, and Sanna told us to come here. She and Jhor were here, and they now care for Tuft while Dov patrols.”

“No rest, eh?” Patch asked as he joined her, as relaxed and breezy as if he strode through an every day outing rather than into a potentially dangerous confrontation. That was why so many idolized him, her included. The guards did not like the show, but lowered their weapons.

“No. It is one reason the military preferred us as guards. We do not tire, nor do our scans wander.” Chiddle shrugged. “Dov is eager to protect. I thought he disliked doing so, as he wished to go to silence at the Cloisters to avoid it. But Vision was right. He did not want silence, so much as change and true purpose.”

Lapis sped through the gap and hugged the khentauree. He settled a hand on her shoulder, his buzzing amused.

“It is good to see you, too,” he said. “We worried, after the skyshroud slid. Come. They are waiting for you at the mansion.” He turned and trotted away before she could ask who ‘they’ were.

They rounded a fountain and headed down the long drive. The lane was clear of snow, and odd indentations in the ground and the banks lining it hinted that more than a wagon or two had used it that morning. Had a Swift landed there? Her uncle’s, perhaps?

“Melanthe!”

She looked up. Desperate relief, in those green eyes. Midir ran to her and smothered her in a hug identical to her parents’ embrace when she successfully survived some dangerous naughtiness. She discarded her umbrella as he reached over and pulled Faelan in, then Varr engulfed all of them in his muscular embrace.

Faelan wiggled his arm free, motioned, and pulled a body into their group hug. She recognized the hitch of breath; Rin.

“You’re our little brother,” Faelan reminded him.

“And this’s little brother stuff?” he asked with a sniffle.

Varr chuckled. “Aye, lad.”

“And, as a little brother, you should know better than to bet against Lanth in a life or death situation,” Faelan said. “She survived the attack on Nicodem, she would survive rescuing me.”

“Our Lanth, as brave as the legends,” Midir said, struggling to keep his voice steady as his grip tightened.

“I had a lot of help.” Tears pricked her eyes, unexpected, but relief flowed with them. They made it. The khentauree made it. She could not believe it.

“Yes, but you first took off intending to rescue him and the others by yourself. I never said it was the most intelligent thing you’ve done, but it was brave.”

“We’ll work on that,” Varr said. His agreement made her feel like a naughty six-year-old again.

“As Sanna would say, you are as brave as the cloud that first blots the sun,” Chiddle said. “And joined by others, they succeed together what the one could not do alone.”

Lapis smiled through tears. She much enjoyed Sanna’s poetry.

“Thought you’d died,” Rin admitted, bowing his head. “When them parts exploded, twas like them ‘shrouds crashin’ in Trave. Didn’t think you’d make it. Figured I’d be mournin’ you on the Pit’s bridge like I does Chinder.” His shoulders slumped. “Lost hope, Lady.”

“No need for mourning me—at least not today,” Lapis whispered as she turned and hugged him close. His face was red—not the red from cold, but the red from extended crying. Her poor little brother. “You reached them in time.” Not that she doubted he would, and do so without a scratch.

“’Tweren’t me,” he said. “’Twer Dagby who got to ‘m first. He’d been part of the honor guard, ‘n Faelan told ‘m t’ git help. I jest brought word ‘bout you.”

“Scared me to the core when Rin showed up, Lanth,” Midir said, setting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “And Jo Ban and I prepared for a full assault. I lost the rest of your family. I can’t lose you and Faelan as well. I—”

“FAELAN!”

Her brother caught Caitria as she flung herself at him. He held her tight as sobs wracked her body. Jetta slid her arm around the woman’s back, and they set their heads together. Lapis rubbed at her cheeks before pulling away from Rin and hugging Midir again; he looked as if he needed the reassurance. Then she grabbed Varr’s hand. She knew he would never express it as openly as Midir, but he worried, too. He gave her a hard enough hug, her breath squeaked out of her.

“Did everyone else make it?”

Midir sighed, regret and pain in his tone. “No. We lost three rebels and four Rams. We will mourn them when all settles.”

She tensed. “Brander?”

“He’s fine, waiting for his turn with Lady Thais.” He eyed them sternly. “You need to have her check you over as well. Breathing all that smoke wasn’t good for you.” He nodded to a servant, who braved the cold to hand her a tall glass of water.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled down her scarf. She gulped the entire thing in one go, not quenching her thirst, but provoking her tummy into rumbling.

More rebels poured out of the mansion, and Lord Adrastos hastened up, a relieved smile plastered on his face. Mairin hugged Faelan before soothing Caitria, Linz’s red eyes belied previous crying, but they held onto their composure as they squeezed Jetta’s life from her. Tearlach hugged each of them, then handed out vials of something, which Lapis cautiously accepted. She sniffed at it; whatever it was, it had the punch of the strongest wake juice. He nudged her, amused, before glancing at Perben. He stayed well back, tugging at his bangs, shifting his weight as he eyed the throng of former colleagues. The rebel eyed Faelan, then walked over and gave him a vial. Lapis lifted her lip but said nothing; they needed to ask him questions about his involvement, which required him to be alert and talkative.

But after that?

She drank, gagged, and tugged off her glove so she could cough into her hand. She knew it would be a while yet before her head hit the pillow, and the boost would do her good, but what was that stuff? Not just wake juice.

“That’s an extra-special concoction my son uses for late nights,” Lord Adrastos said before hugging her around the shoulders and handing her a half-loaf of round bread. “Will keep you going as long as you need to.”

That is what she needed. She tore into the bread, only pausing when she heard Chiddle’s worried buzz.

The khenaturee’s head swiveled to her. “Path says there is trouble.”

“Trouble?” Lapis asked, the familiar beat of fear punching through her weariness as everyone quieted and turned to him.

“Janks and mercenaries flood the Lells. The merchants and urchins are in danger. She says the mercenaries have blue deer patches and purposefully grab the rats to ask after grey horse machines.”

Mesaalle Kez had her fingers all over Jiy, did she not.

“Let’s go,” Patch said, shoving the rest of his bread into his mouth before retrieving the spyglass weapon from the rebel he had given it to. “We’ll see how long they last against this.”

Midir had an internal fight; Lapis saw it play out on his face. He did not want her to go, but he also respected her enough not to voice it. She glanced up at Varr, whose resignation spoke loud, and hugged them both.

“If I was going to end up in the Pit today, I’d already be there,” she told them. “Are there horses we can borrow?”

“Dov and I will take you,” Chiddle said. “You and Patch. We are faster than horses, and we must get there quickly. Path is afraid.”

“I’s goin’,” Rin said, wild-eyed but firm-lipped. Lapis buried her immediate denial; better he come with them, than have him sneak out and follow them alone.

“Be careful,” Faelan cautioned, hastening to them. “Don’t take chances.”

“But that’s what’s got us through your rescue,” she said as she hugged him. “Get some rest. We’ll be back soon.”

“You need rest, too.”

“I’ll be fine. Whatever that shot was, I’ll be better than fine.” She met his eyes; so much worry, buried in their purple depths. “If the king didn’t get me, neither will the janks or the mercs.”

“You’re not invincible.”

“Today I am.”

“We’ll get fighters together and head for the Lells,” Midir said. “Do what you have to, but try not to clash with them until backup arrives.”

“We won’t.” She refused to sacrifice herself after everything she just lived through. The others moved in, supportive hugs for her and Patch and Rin. Then Dov raced up, and it was time to go. She finished the bread, guzzled more water, and mounted, Rin behind her.

She met Patch’s eye as the khentauree took off, and they silently reiterated their previous vow. No chances, no death. Not that day.