But it’s the sight of Esmae that devastates me. It’s the expression on her face, as she stands beside Rickard, a man she loved like a father, looking silently down at him. It’s not anguish, or horror, or even grief. It’s something else. Something worse. Like she’s so used to tragedy, it doesn’t even surprise her anymore.
“Why?” I ask my broken father. “Why wasn’t what I did to him enough for you?”
“I wanted it not to hurt anymore,” he says hoarsely.
“And has it stopped now?” I demand, gesturing around us to illustrate what his quest for revenge has cost. “Has the pain gone?”
Father doesn’t answer, which is answer enough for me. Of course it’s not gone. That’s not how pain and heartbreak work. Lavya will always be betrayed, Father will always hurt, and, now, Rickard will always be dead.
Sebastian lets out an anguished roar, tears streaming down his face. “I wish I could kill you!” he shouts, with the uncontrollable, helpless fury of a boy who knows it’s something he’ll never do.
“I’m sorry,” Rodi says to him, and then to the room at large, “I’m so sorry. Radha and I had no idea this was what he meant to do.”
Max gently disentangles himself from Sebastian and Titania, his face set. Only the muscle ticking in his jaw gives away the storm of feelings he’s suppressing. Stepping close to Esmae, he says to her and Sybilla, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear: “What do we do with him?”
I swallow a hard lump in my throat. I can’t speak. I can’t bring myself to defend my father, because there is no defending what he’s done, but I can’t bear to think of the most likely punishment, either.
“I’m not executing Rama’s father,” Esmae says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. I feel a rush of relief and gratitude for her.
“Then we should get him off Kali before my father hears that Rickard is dead,” says Max, his voice cracking on the last word. “Because if he’s still here when Elvar finds out, there will be blood.”
“We can’t just let him go,” Sybilla hisses. “What he’s done—”
Before she can finish, the sound of a loud, shrill klaxon shrieks over the speakers in every room, startling us all. For a moment, I wonder if it’s some kind of announcement of what’s happened to Rickard, a mourning cry of some sort that’s being broadcasted to the entire kingdom, but then I see the looks on the others’ faces.
“What is that?” I shout over the scream of the klaxon. “What does it mean?”
Sybilla is deathly white as she says, “It means the inner shield just came down. We’re about to be invaded.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Titania
I knew I had forgotten something. I knew it. All those times I tried to ignore that nagging, uncomfortable certainty that I’d forgotten something important? This was why. This inadequate, messy human brain let something phenomenally huge slip past it.
It has been sixteen minutes since the klaxons went off. It has been sixteen minutes of chaos. We’ve assembled in the war room. Somewhere else in the palace, King Elvar and General Khay are summoning Kali’s scattered troops and allies from every corner of the galaxy. I don’t know where King Darshan and Prince Rodi are. The klaxon has been silenced so that we can actually hear each other speak, the inner shield is still down, and, in the distance, we can see a fleet of ships approaching.
How could I have forgotten the hacker working for Alexi somewhere in the base ship? I had an alert set up for their signal, so that I could block it as soon as it appeared, but then I became human and all my protocols vanished into the aether. Still, I should have remembered the hacker existed. How could something like that have just slipped my mind, human or not?
Hush, the voice inside my head says. Don’t think like that. The others should have been paying more attention.
I silence that ugly voice and shudder, forcing myself out of my thoughts. Across the room, Max is ordering someone to get the shields back up. Esmae is standing at the window, her eyes on the ships on the horizon.
Amba’s voice is clipped as she says, “Wasn’t someone supposed to be watching for the hacker’s signal?”
Sybilla flushes crimson. “I was investigating, but I—well, I—I got caught up in other things.”
“She means it’s my fault,” I say reluctantly, unwilling to let her take the blame for it. “I told Sybilla I’d take over keeping watch on the signal.”
“But then you became human,” Amba says, sighing. “It is what it is, but I have to admit I wish you hadn’t.”
How dare she, I think, ignoring the fact that she’s not wrong. A bolt of rage makes my skin feel electric. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for her.
I’m not quite sure how this is Amba’s fault, but I cling to that thought anyway.
Esmae turns from the window. “At the Night Temple, Alex told me that the moment Titania became human, I lost this war,” she says. I couldn’t possibly feel any worse. It was selfish of me to choose humanity over staying to fight at my friends’ sides. “This must have been what he meant. He knew he was coming.” Her teeth clench. “That’s why he didn’t care when I told him his allies had left him. He knew they’d be too far away to help us when he invaded.”
“He knows our mercenaries are over the Aqua Nebula, cutting off his supplies from Tamini,” Max says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Queen Miyo would have sent him word. So he knows we have less than half our army here on Kali. He couldn’t have timed this better.”
“We also have the Wych soldiers I brought,” Radha adds.
“Even with them, we’re ridiculously outnumbered.”
Nausea is something I’ve never experienced, but I assume that is what I’m feeling now, because my stomach is churning and the sour, horrible taste of bile is in my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
There’s a commotion outside the door, and Juniper from the Hundred and One bursts in, dragging a skinny older man with her. His nose is bloodied, but he looks outrageously pleased with himself.
“Here’s our hacker,” Juniper spits, pushing him ahead of her. He stumbles and falls to his knees. “I found him in the base ship. He wasn’t even trying to hide what he’d done.”
Her voice dangerously quiet, Amba steps forward, towering over him. “Get the shield back up,” she says coldly.
He avoids looking at her, lowering his eyes. “I will not,” he says, “and what’s more, no one else will be able to, either. The prince is coming. He’s coming home at last.”
Sybilla makes a move forward like she’s going to punch him in the face, but Max stops her.
“What about the failsafe?” Max asks, not directing the question at any one in particular.
“Failsafe?” I ask, confused.
“There’s a failsafe for the inner shield,” he explains. “In case something like this happens. I imagine Wychstar has one, too.”
Radha nods. “It’s a secondary switch to reactivate the shield, kept far away from the tech in the base ship so that the two aren’t on the same system.”
“That’s how ours works, too,” says Max. He points out the window, high, and we all crane our necks to look up at the faint glimmer of the outer shield, still encasing Kali in its bubble. “If you look hard enough, you’ll see it. That small glitch in the outer shield? That’s the failsafe. It’s built into the outer shield and can only be triggered by direct contact, not by technology.”
“Like an actual, physical switch,” I say.
“Yes.”
“So then we can fly a starship up to that point of the outer shield and trigger the switch, can’t we?” I ask hopefully. Maybe my mistake won’t cost us everything, after all.
The hacker lets out a short laugh. “Do you really think I didn’t consider that?” he asks. “I work in the base ship. I know all about the failsafe. I may not have been able to get to it myself, but I’ve made it inaccessible to all of you, too.” He looks so proud, like he’s confiden
t in his certainty that he’s done the right thing, he’s helped his prince come home. “Here, I can show you. It’s not like you can undo it, anyway.”
Stepping forward, with Juniper’s warning hand clamped around his elbow to make sure he doesn’t try anything he shouldn’t, he goes to the simulation bubble in the middle of the room and taps a few keys on the touchscreen outside it. Immediately, a three-dimensional holographic miniature of Kali appears in the room, exactly like it does when the others have been here strategizing in the past.
The hacker taps on the touchscreen once more, and this time something new flickers on to the hologram. It looks like a new shield, a spherical bubble around the kingdom, positioned about where the inner shield used to be. Unlike the inner shield, this one is a grid, like a net.
“I fashioned a version of the inner shield,” the hacker tells us. It chills me that he’s telling us this without any prompting at all. It means he knows there’s nothing we can do about it. “This one only lets things in, not out. The prince’s army can enter, but no one can leave until I deactivate it. Which, of course, I won’t. I didn’t have time to stitch up all the gaps, but the grid is too small for a ship to pass through.”
“But it is not too small for an arrow,” says Amba, her eyes focused on the holographic re-creation of the grid with all the intensity of an ancient, powerful creature who has fought worse wars. “An archer could stand at the very top of the north tower and fire an arrow directly at the glitch in the outer shield, bypassing the net and triggering the failsafe. And then,” she says, turning to skewer the hacker with that ancient gaze, “your precious prince will be getting nowhere.”
There’s a moment of total silence. As the hacker’s mouth opens and closes in dismay, revealing that an arrow could actually work, everyone’s eyes turn inevitably in one direction.
There are only two archers left in the mortal world who could possibly get an arrow through the tiny grid and hit the switch.
One of them is about to invade us. The other is in this room.
Esmae’s fist clenches and unclenches at her sides.
“I can’t,” she says, her jaw tight and her eyes simmering with fury. “Not anymore. Not without my thumb.”
Nodding, Max says, “Then we need to accept that Alex is coming and figure out what we want to do.”
With one last look of contempt at the hacker, Amba turns away and addresses Esmae. “Our one advantage is that Alexi wants the crown of Kali,” she says. “He wants to come home. He’s not here to destroy the kingdom. We can use that against him.”
Esmae turns back the holographic simulation of the kingdom. She looks at it with an expression I recognize from watching her play Warlords.
“He’ll want to make this as quick as possible,” she says, “so that there’s as little destruction as possible to the kingdom he wants to rule when this is over. That means he’ll come here, to the palace. The easiest way to end this would be to force us to surrender.”
“You should consider it,” Kirrin says quietly, materializing out of nowhere.
Max’s eyes flash. “You were here right before the shield came down. You could have warned us.”
“I promised Alex I wouldn’t.”
“Get out,” Max snarls.
“Max, listen to me. You don’t understand. This has to end quickly. If it doesn’t, the devastation will be unthinkable.”
“You have gone too far one too many times, little brother,” Amba says, her voice icy. “Leave.”
Anguished, Kirrin obeys. Amba straightens her spine with difficulty, exhaustion flitting across her face. I feel peculiarly pleased. I rather like seeing her struggle.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Max asks me, and I jump, annoyed that I forgot how he never seems to miss anything.
“Was I?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess I’m still getting used to how the muscles in my face work.”
He narrows his eyes but turns back to the hologram. “We can position a third of the ships we have at strategic points above the palace,” he says, pointing. “And use them to fire relentlessly on any ship approaching. The rest of our ships can attack directly, from these angles here. That should keep Alex’s fleet away from the palace.”
“Alex won’t want to win this from inside a ship,” says Esmae. “He’ll leave some of his fleet high up, to fire from a distance and to keep our own fleets occupied, but he and a portion of his soldiers will find ground to land and they’ll attack the palace on foot. Alex will want to take the crown from Elvar with his own hands.” She points to two of the palace exits. “Those are his best entry points. We should evacuate the palace and barricade those doors.” Her eyes flash. “We don’t know how many other people are working with him. We can’t have anyone letting him in.”
“Agreed,” says Max. “And those of us who aren’t going to fly the ships will wait here, outside the palace.” He glances over his shoulder at Juniper. “Get everyone armed and ready.”
She nods and bolts.
“The university will be safe,” Max goes on, with another glance out at the window at the approaching fleet, “and it’s close enough for Mother, the servants, the children, and anyone else who can’t fight to get to before Alex gets here.”
“The children?” I repeat, my hackles rising. “You’d better not be including me in that category.”
“You’re a child, Titania, whether you like it or not,” Max says.
“I can be useful!” I protest. “The people in this room are all I have! How can you ask me to go and hide somewhere safe while you’re all out here dying? Let me help!”
“That’s not—”
“No!” the word explodes out of me, making everyone stare. “Don’t treat me like I’m nothing!”
There is stunned silence in the room. No one seems to know what to say or do, apart from Esmae, who is unimpressed with my tantrum.
“We care about you, you outrageous brat,” she says, with an icy wrath that makes me feel like I’m about three inches tall. “We’re not asking you to hide because we think you’re nothing. We’re asking you to hide because it would be devastating to lose you.”
“Oh.”
“Titania, we all wish you still had some of the incredible abilities you possessed as a ship. I expect you wish that, too. But nobody here blames you for the choice you made. We’re not angry with you for not being what you once were.” A little softer, she adds: “But you do need to accept that your choice has been made. After I lost the blueflower, I remember you telling me that I had to stop acting like I was indestructible. Well, now I’m going to say the same thing to you.”
My cheeks flushed with shame, I bite my lip and say quietly, “I’m sorry. I—I just—I just want to help. In any way I can. Please.”
Esmae considers me for a moment. “You could stay right here,” she says. “We’ll evacuate the palace, apart from you. This is the war room, after all. It has direct video and audio feeds from every piece of tech in the palace and every camera in the city. Having you here, keeping an eye on everything, warning us about what we don’t see coming, would be extraordinarily useful. Are you up for that?”
“Yes!” I say, almost giddy at the prospect of being able to actually do something useful again. “Yes, I am.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the boy huddled in the corner of the room, his tearstained face watching us all worriedly. Something makes me say: “Sebastian should stay with me. Two pairs of eyes will be better than one.”
Sebastian straightens. “I’ll do it,” he says at once, giving me a grateful look. “I want to help. It’s what Grandfather would have wanted me to do.”
No one reminds him that’s not true. We all know Rickard would have sent him as far away from here as he possibly could.
“We’re almost out of time,” says Max. “Sybilla, get word to Mother to gather the servants and get to the university. Amba, can you lay all this out for Father and General Khay?”
“Yes,” says A
mba crisply. “I’ll go find them at once.”
Sybilla hesitates, her eyes fixed on Radha’s face. “Radha, you should go with the queen and the servants,” she says.
“What?” Radha says, aghast. “No! I know I can’t fight, but I can still do something.”
Sybilla casts a panicked look out the window. “We don’t have time to fight about this,” she pleads, the prickles around her crumbling away. “Please. If you don’t go, I won’t be able to do anything except worry that you’re not okay.”
Radha hesitates, her expression somewhere between angry and afraid. Swallowing, she says, “Okay.”
“Thank you,” Sybilla says, her shoulders crumpling in relief. She holds Radha’s face with both hands and kisses her on the mouth. “Let’s go find the queen.”
The war room empties, leaving just Esmae, Max, Sebastian, and me. I move away from the hologram, letting Sebastian pull up the camera feeds on as many screens as are available in the room, and wring my hands as I try to put what I’m feeling into words. All that comes out is: “Please don’t die.”
Esmae gives me a hug, and Max kisses me on the forehead. My throat feels like it’s full of tears. Why does this feel like goodbye?
Before they leave, Max takes a step in Esmae’s direction, the two of them silhouetted against the swarm of ships on the horizon. For just one moment, the sight of them like that, with his hands on her shoulders and her face tilted up to his, triggers a terrible, almost forgotten memory in my human brain.
The vision comes back to me, the one Kirrin showed me. Pieces of Kali strewn across a fiery, ashy hellscape. The snow. The broken throne. The red ponytail buried under the rubble. Max and Esmae, silent and gray, streaked with ash and blood.
But before that, they were standing together, just like this, Esmae’s eyes shining with tears as she tried to smile.
Close your eyes, he said.
And she did.
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