“But we’re going to do it, no matter how much it hurts, because we have to,” Jax says firmly. “Karthia is depending on us.”
Simeon nods his agreement.
They’re right. It’s time to do the job I was born for. The job that’s so much a part of me that I want to keep doing it, even if it kills me.
Putting an arm around each of them, I catch Kasmira’s deep gray eyes and say, “Take us home, Captain.”
XXXIV
A shroud of smoke and silence hangs over the seemingly aban- doned depths of Grenwyr City. The only other ships in the harbor are two ancient vessels that clearly aren’t seaworthy, and the only other people we see are unmoving corpses on the harbor walkway.
The haze of smoke lingering over the Ashes, the markets, and the taverns has turned everything gray and lifeless despite the presence of the morning sun. Stepping around both broken glass and bodies is a challenge, though the dead we spot can’t possibly account for more than a fraction of the city’s population.
Either everyone is hiding or most of them managed to escape.
“There’s no telling where the soldiers are now,” I say to Valoria and Orsa in the barest whisper, walking with them near the back of our group. Even though there’s no gleam of anything metal in sight, I’d rather not risk drawing attention.
“They’ll be at the palace, guarding Hadrien,” Valoria whispers back. “If I know his twisted mind at all, he’ll be there, polishing my crown.”
Since our ranks have swollen considerably with the addition of the Ezoran volunteers from Orsa’s ship—the rest of the fleet remained offshore—there’s no stealthy approach to climbing the palace hill.
The group keeps relatively quiet as we follow Danial and his few remaining volunteer soldiers through the long grass toward the wrought-iron gates.
Sure enough, as Valoria predicted, there are six metal soldiers standing guard behind the gates—which means Hadrien, wearing Karston’s skin, is somewhere inside his former home. My hands curl into fists at the sight.
“I see my trust wasn’t misplaced, queenling,” Orsa says softly to Valoria.
As they spot us, one of the metal soldiers breaks away from its companions and stomps into the palace, no doubt to warn Hadrien.
There’s no way the other five will let us inside without a fight.
Danial pauses, turning and scanning faces until his eyes find Simeon’s. “You ready for this?” he asks shakily.
Simeon hurries toward him, taking the general in his arms. “Not exactly, but this is what we do every day, right? One of us does something stupid, the other saves his life, then we make out.” Faking a grin, he adds, “Besides, I risk death every time you give me one of your heart-stopping kisses. I’m used to it by now.”
I kneel beside Nipper as they continue talking in low voices. “I need you to sing, girl,” I murmur, hoping her uncanny ability to understand what I’ve asked her in the past wasn’t wishful thinking.
Pointing to the metal soldiers who watch us impassively, with no idea what’s coming, I pet Nipper’s scales and whisper, “Sing for us. Please.”
Nipper raises her head skyward. Not seeming to open her mouth at all—it’s no wonder I never noticed she was our mystery singer—shebegins to fill the air with dragonsong. The soft, eerie wailing swirls around us, drifting toward the palace and the soldiers at the gates. Nipper continues to sing as Valoria hurries forward, a set of ancient, rusted keys in her hand. Danial guards her with his sword as she unlocks the gates.
Only when she’s a safe distance away does he draw them open with the help of an Ezoran warrior.
The metal soldiers remain frozen in place as Nipper’s song echoes through the still morning air. They don’t creak or move even the slightest bit when Jax shoves one to the ground and spits on its prone body.
“We’re good,” he declares. “Let’s do this.”
“I’m ready,” affirms Ilyra, the Ezoran necromancer. If it weren’t for her willingness to bleed out alongside us, I’m not sure I’d have agreed to try this at all.
With a last look at Nipper, I join Jax and Simeon in shoving the rest of the soldiers down into the grass, next to their companion.
Turning back to our friends, I look first to Danial, then Valoria, then Kasmira. “Well? Who’s going to do this?” I spread my arms wide. “Somebody hurry up and stab me.” After all, we don’t know where Hadrien is hiding, or just how long the spirits in these bodies will stay frozen thanks to the dragonsong.
Valoria steps forward, Jax’s blade in her hand, a determined glint in her eyes. But as she presses the blade against my side, her hands shake so much that all she does is nick my skin. The sword falls to the grass.
The three of us look to Danial, who shakes his head. “I’ll be on hand to heal you, if this goes too far,” he murmurs. “But don’t ask me to dothat.” He mimes stabbing us in the ribs, looking unusually pale.
“I’ll do it,” an unexpected voice says. Orsa, the Exalted One, steps forward with her blade drawn.
