Page 91 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

“The directive is vague,” Short said as the truck jolted over rough terrain. They braced themselves. Renn folded the map away. “We’ve been ordered to stand down once we reach the target and allow Prince Rain to retrieve whatever is inside. Our job is to get him in and out without trouble.”

“It’s a who, not a what,” Rain said, scanning their energies for signs of awareness. Surprise rippled through the squad.

“We’re retrieving a person?” Vass clarified.

“An aetherial, I presume. Female.” Rain rubbed his face, frustration simmering. “Whoever she is, my father wanted me blind. We’re not prepared to transport a captive. We don’t know if she’ll come willingly, if she’s weakened or if she is able to travel. Someone— likely the King, has gone to great lengths to keep this mission a mystery, and it puts us all at risk. Thoughts, Captain?”

“Are you certain it’s an aetherial?” Short asked.

“I terrorised the information out of the General. I’m positive.”

Vass snorted. “You terrorised the General?”

Short gawked. Rain nodded. After a beat, she smiled; brows raised in approval.

“I agree. This puts immense risk on our heads. We’ll need to consider multiple outcomes and rely heavily on your ability to improvise.”

“Sir—Royale—Your Highness—how the bloody hell are we meant to address you?” Glass asked, exasperated.

“Royale is fine,” Rain said.

“Right. Thanks. Royale—call me ignorant, but why would the king send you? His only son and heir. I could maybe understand retrieving a human captive, though you lot wouldn’t bother with that but another aetherial? That’s reckless. We don’t know their origin or power. They could end you.”

“The king doesn’t usually care for my well-being. That’s your first mistake,” Rain said, leaning back. “I’m the pawn he uses for his own benefit—usually to inflict me upon his enemies.”

“Brutal,” Glass muttered.

“At the moment, I’m flavour of the month. He sees me as an asset he doesn’t want to lose. With that in mind, I believe this mission is meant to be straightforward. Only five guardians keeping her contained. She can’t be a threat to me.”

“That’s the confidence we like to hear,” Hamish said as his gadget snapped shut.

“And” Rain added, “he has you five accompanying me. I can only imagine your real mission is to ensure I don’t fuck up or step out of line.”

Short’s honey-brown eyes confirmed it before she spoke.

“I may have received verbal orders that suggest you are correct,” she admitted. Captain Short was known for her intimidating presence and iron will. Rain sensed both but beneath them, a surprising loyalty. Even fondness. “But it is our honour and duty to serve the crown. Your safety is our priority.”

They fell into contemplative silence for the remainder of the journey, enduring a three-and-a-half-hour drive along the Grey-to-Red border until they reached the secluded crossing point.

As soon as they arrived, they clambered out of the wagon, stretching their limbs. The air was thick and humid; the scent of damp soil and algae clung to the night. Cicadas shrieked in the trees, their high-pitched chorus echoing across the stillness.

The squad removed their outer shirts, switching to base layers better suited for the heat. Hamish whistled and tossed a large field pack toward Rain. Rain caught it by the strap, shoved his shirt inside, and slung it over his shoulders, adjusting the straps.

While the others strapped weapons to their bodies, Rain scanned the area. Nothing but wildlife. No mortals. No Aetherials. They were alone.

“Does the prince not carry weapons?” Vass asked, patting down his chest, now bristling with twelve blades.

“I am the weapon,” Rain replied, arrogance curling through his voice like smoke.

“We have to trigger your emotions though, right?” Vass asked, sliding two more knives into his boots. “That’s how it works, yeah?”

Rain didn’t bother answering. With a flick of his power, he whipped a knife clean out of Vass’s boot. The Sergeant jerked upright fast, but not fast enough. The blade hovered at his throat, pressed lightly against the jugular. Vass froze, hands raised in surrender, an impressed grin spreading across his face.

“Okay, point taken. Don’t mess with the prince.”

Rain guided the blade back into its sheath with a lazy flick.

“Call me Royale. Or Rain. No need for formality in the field.”