I can’t help but wonder…did Mr. Duveau know all along? Did he fight my glamour and feed me the lie that played us right into King Grigory’s hands? Or did he not know the truth?
Estel squints at the sky. “It’s coming in from the south of Eisleigh. I…I think I can sense something.”
“It’s there, isn’t it?”
“I can’t be sure unless I get closer. But I swear I can feel it.”
Her words give me an additional idea. “If we can get close enough, I can try and glimpse it through the Twelfth Court, see if there’s any sign of the Parvanovae. That way, if it’s there, we’ll know exactly where it is onboard.”
Estel walks forward, as if a few feet closer could provide a better vantage. The truth is, we’re about as high as we can get in Port Denyson, and the airship is already heading away from us toward the center of Eisleigh. “We must get closer. If we can confirm the Parvanovae is on the flying beast, we can send word back to our fighters to destroy the warship at once.”
“Then Fehr will finish the wall.”
Estel nods. “And I’ll cast the enchantment.”
Sweat beads at my brow as I watch the airship slip farther and farther from view. “How do we get close enough to the airship for a better look?”
She opens her palm, revealing a Chariot. Where she stores items on her shimmering, ethereal person, I’m not sure I’ll ever know. And this isn’t the time for such questions. “We must get somewhere along the flight path that isn’t in Faerwyvae. If they reach beyond the border, it will already be too late.”
I pace a few steps, mind reeling. “I can take us to Grenneith,” I say in a rush. “If the airship plans on dropping the Parvanovae, they’ll target a central location after they cross the border into Faerwyvae. Based on the ship’s trajectory, it’s sure to pass over Grenneith.”
Without question, she hands me the Chariot. “Let’s go.”
* * *
I transportus to the street right outside the Spire, to the very place I once stood with Aspen, Franco, and Foxglove while we plotted how to infiltrate the prison so I could visit my mother. One look at the building has me suppressing the shudder that writhes through me, but I know I must be strong. There is a proper time to sit with my grief, and this is not one of them. Not when the isle is at stake.
Pocketing the Chariot, I summon my inner fire to strengthen my will and lead Estel up the steps through the doors. Inside, the building is eerily quiet. Now that I think about it, even the streets outside were oddly empty for so early in the day. Word of the fighting must have traveled the isle, either from the people at Port Denyson who we evacuated, or from Mayor Coleman. Whatever the case, we don’t encounter a single soul as we run through the building and enter the staircase that leads up the central column of the Spire. It isn’t until we reach the lower level of the cellblocks that we meet company.
Rounding a corner to the next flight of stairs, we come face to face with a pair of guards. They startle, hands flying to the hilts of their swords. I’m so used to seeing guns that I’m flooded with relief as one draws his blade and advances forward.
“Stop!” I shout, lifting my palms and letting blue flames dance over my fingers. “We are your new queens, and you will let us pass. Otherwise, I will have to hurt you.” Or glamour them, I suppose. But right now, violence feels like the fastest solution.
“Queen,” the guard echoes, eyes flashing from my face to my flames, then to the shimmering fae at my side.
“Yes, your new fae queens,” I say. “Here to save the isle from complete annihilation. Now, let us pass or you will regret it.”
The guard sneers, taking a step forward. “I’ll bow to no fae.” It seems violence will be the answer after all, until the second guard grasps his comrade by the shoulder, pulling him back. The two exchange a tense glance, and the second guard gives a subtle shake of his head. Chest heaving, the first guard considers his friend’s silent warning before reluctantly returning his weapon to its sheath. Then, with another nudge from the second guard, they both step aside.
Estel and I brush past them and continue up the ring of stairs. We pass cellblock after cellblock until we finally reach the highest point in the tower. There I lead us to the end of the hall where one of the old, glassless windows welcomes a chill of autumn air. I lean forward, searching the sky for any sign of the airship. I know we beat it here. Only minutes have passed, and we crossed a great distance by Chariot. However, the airship was already far north of the port by the time we saw it. It must be nearly—
Then we see it.
It starts as a speck in the sky, then grows closer, crossing the east side of the city at a diagonal and heading straight our way. The nearer it comes, the more detail I can make out, from the gondolas suspended beneath the airship to its engine carts and motorized propellers.
“The Parvanovae is there,” Estel says, eyes fixated on the approaching threat. The conviction in her voice is unwavering. “I can feel it with every speck of my being.”
Even though I believe her, I want to see for myself. Turning inward, I close my eyes and seek the Twelfth Court. When I open them, the airship is beneath the violet haze, vibrating with shimmering particles. I don’t even need to deepen my investigation, for there near the rear of the hull is an orb of blindingly bright light. I spare the rest of the ship a brief study, counting a dozen living figures, spread mostly between the rear and control gondolas, with a few figures lingering in the keel corridor.
I pull back from the Twelfth Court, blinking into the present. “I saw it. I know where it is.”
“We must retrieve it. Now.”
“Let’s return to the port, gather an aerial force—”
“We can’t attack the airship,” Estel says. “If we destroy it, we destroy the Parvanovae. Even if it detonates from the air, it would be just as destructive as it would be on the ground.”
“Winged fighters could invade the ship and take the Parvanovae back.”
