The question has too many implications to count.

Purple, white, green, and blue flash through the clouds, enough to penetrate the mist and blind us all for a moment. Shutting my eyes, I smile with the burst of energy as it thrums through me.

When the lightning passes, I answer him, and everything he means.

“No, it isn’t,” I tell him, before returning the radio to Farley.

She doesn’t stop me as I clamber down the steps, and Cal’s guards stand aside when I approach, walking through the broken gates of the ruinous Square.

He waits at the edge of the Archeon Bridge, unmoving. As before, he lets me come to him. He lets me set the pace, choose the direction, make the decision. He puts it all in my hands.

I keep an even step, in spite of the rumblings far below. Something smashes, wailing and roaring. One of the ships, maybe, colliding into another. I hardly notice.

The embrace is short, far too short, but enough. I steady myself against him, holding tightly for as long as I dare, feeling the warm, hard lines of his body pressed against me. He smells like smoke and blood and sweat. His arms cross my back, holding me around the shoulders to pull me into his chest.

“I’m done with crowns,” he murmurs to the top of my head.

“Finally,” I whisper.

We push back in unison, turning to the situation at hand. We don’t have time for anything else, and I certainly don’t have the capacity to think about much more.

He raises the radio again, one hand still resting on my shoulder. “General, I believe Volo Samos and some of his own soldiers are still in War Command,” he says. Through the mist, I glance at the hulking building on the edge of the Square. “You’ll want to keep an eye on your backs.”

“Got it, will do,” she answers. “Anything else?”

She’s on the move, barking orders to her lieutenants, as she relays the advice. Kilorn and Tyton flank her like guards.

“We’re working on blocking up the river. If the ships can’t turn around . . .”

“They can’t escape,” I finish for him, glancing out at the destruction on both sides of the city. Missiles spiral overhead, trailing smoke like black ink over paper as they arc and explode.

In spite of Cal’s soldiers, as well as the jets overhead, the Lakelander armada doesn’t seem to be taking much damage. As I watch, another one of Ella’s storm bolts cracks, but a wave rises with blinding speed, taking the brunt of the blow to save a battleship. It lights up with the eerie glow of electricity before fading and falling harmlessly back into the river. It must be Queen Cenra’s doing, maybe with her daughter’s help. I’ve never seen such a display of power, even from people who delight in that sort of thing.

Cal watches with me, his face still and grim. “We have to start sinking the ships, but with the river, they have all the shields they’ll ever need. Right now it’s all we can do to minimize the damage to the city.” He curses as a wave knocks back another volley of gunfire. “They have to run out of ammunition eventually, right?” he says dryly.

I glare at the offending ships, eyes running over their steel hides. “Call up some teleporters. Let’s get Lerolan oblivions and Evangeline onto a ship. Have them tear some holes.”

“Evangeline is gone.”

“But you said her father . . .”

Somehow, Cal looks oddly proud. “She had an opportunity and she took it.”

An opportunity to run and put all this behind her. I don’t need much of an imagination to guess where she might be running. Or who she’s running with. Like Cal, I feel a strange mix of pride and surprise.

“The train,” I say, almost smirking to myself. Well done, I can’t help but think.

He quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“In the tunnels, we saw Maven’s escape train on the move. It must have been her,” I answer. It stings to say his name, and I grimace. A sour taste fills my mouth. “He’s here, by the way,” I blurt out.

The temperature around us rises a few degrees. Cal’s lips drop open in shock. “Maven?”

I nod. Heat flares up in my cheeks. “He led us back into the city. To spite you.”

Still sputtering, Cal runs a hand over his face. “Well, too bad I can’t thank him,” he finally mumbles, attempting a smirk. I don’t laugh, unable to do much more than bite my lip. “What’s that look for?”

It’s no use lying. “He slipped us.”

He blinks at me. Another missile whines past. “This is a very odd time for a very odd joke, Mare.”

I waver, dropping my gaze. I’m not joking.

The flamemaker bracelet on his wrist sparks, and he turns the spark to a ball of flame. Angry, surprised, exasperated, he tosses the fiery orb over the edge of the Bridge, letting it singe the fog as it fades.

“So he’s somewhere in the city,” he snaps. “Fantastic.”

“You keep an eye on Kilorn and Farley. I’ll find him,” I say quickly, putting a hand to his arm. The plates of steel beneath my touch feel like they’ve been sitting in an oven.

Cal brushes me away gently. He glances back toward the Square again, teeth gritted. “No, I will.”

I’ve always been faster than he is. I dodge his hands with ease, planting myself firmly between him and the Square. Putting my palm on his chest, I hold him at arm’s length. “You’re a little busy,” I say, jerking my chin toward the armada below us.

“A little,” he grinds out.

“I can finish this.”

“I know you can.”

His armor warms beneath my hand, and he covers my fingers with his own.

Then the Bridge buckles beneath us as something slams into it, a dozen times, from all angles. Above, below. Missiles, shells. A crashing wave sends spray up the supports and onto the level where we stand. Heavier in his armor, Cal loses his balance, falling flat while I fight to stay upright.

Except there is no such thing as upright.

The three-tiered Bridge of Archeon, massive stone and steel, bows toward its center, drooping downward. It isn’t difficult to guess why. Another explosion shudders, and a spray of debris plummets outward, falling with the central supports of the Bridge.

Cal scrambles, trying to get his feet, and I seize him beneath the arm. I would drag him if I could, but the armor is too heavy.

“Help!” I shout, looking for his guards.

The Lerolan soldiers, his grandmother’s own kin, waste no time dragging Cal to his feet. But the Bridge fights us, falling faster and faster, roaring against its own demise.

I scream when the pavement under our feet gives way, slamming into the next tier thirty feet below. I land hard on my side and something cracks in my ribs, sending spiderwebs of pain over me. Hissing, I try to roll and get my bearings. Get off the Bridge, get off the Bridge drums in my head.

Cal is already on his knees, a hand outstretched. Not to grab me.

To stop me.

“Don’t move!” he screams, fingers splayed.

I freeze midstep, my arm wrapped around my rib cage.

His eyes stand out sharply, so afraid, his pupils blown wide and dark.

Instead of the armada, their guns raining concussive hell upon us, I can only hear one thing. Like a whisper, but worse.

Cracking. Crumbling.

“Cal—”

Everything collapses beneath us.

THIRTY-FOUR

Cal

I fall like a stone.

The useless, patronizing armor that never did anything but slow me down won’t protect me from a hundred-foot drop into raging water. It can’t save me, and I can’t save her. My hands claw through open air, reaching for anything to grab, but the fog just whistles through my fingers. I can’t even shout.

Debris tumbles with us, and I brace for the impact of solid concrete. Maybe it’ll crush me before I get the chance to drown. What a small mercy that would be.

I try to see her, even as the river rises up to meet me.

Someone grabs me around my middle, arms squeezing so tightly the breath is crushed from my lungs. My vision spots. I might be passing out.

Or not.

I howl as the river and the fog and the crumbling bridge disappear, swallowed up by a blackness. My entire body tightens, tensing up, and when I hit something solid, I expect all my bones to shatter into dust.