“For a while,” Rhinebeck says, “they were one and the same.”

  “And now?” I ask. “With all the forces of darkness assembling?”

  “I’m not a coward,” Rhinebeck says. “I will do my duty, fight—die, if need be—to defend this csar, even if half its occupants are enemies of my people. What more do you want?”

  “Time,” I say. “Questions of you and me can be answered under the sun.”

  “And if we never see the sun again?” he asks.

  “Then the answer doesn’t matter.”

  Seven hundred and seventy-seven steps, a sacred number, brings one atop the great dome of Sharik Hora, the highest point in the city. There stands Sharik Vonn—hero’s gaze—a great observation deck affording a 360-degree view of the great cavern in which the csar sits.

  Father strides to the center of the stairwell, lifts his gaze, and simply rises. He is beyond such things as steps.

  Gared looks up the spiraling stair and lets out a low whistle. “Reckon the rest of us have to do it the hard way.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Darin winks and dissipates, following Father directly to the roof.

  Everyone else hesitates, and I realize all of them are waiting for me to lead the climb.

  But I’m not ready to give up. I don’t understand Darin’s magic, but this time I paid close attention to Father’s. He simply bound himself to the csar’s magic and willed it upward.

  I still feel the power of the csar, like Mother’s credit account when I went shopping. There was no limit to what vendors would extend me, but Mother could cut it off with a wave.

  Here, too, I can tap into seemingly limitless power, so long as Father allows it, and I need to set an example, and to give heart to our people by reminding them that we, too, are strong.

  I stride to the center of the well, Drawing the csar’s power and wrapping it around me like a blanket. Then I look up, and simply will myself to rise.

  And I do. Slowly at first, then faster as I grow more confident, flights of steps blurring past.

  The last thing I sense from the floor is another flare of injured pride in Asome’s aura. Then I am standing beside Father and Darin, staring out at the cavern and the hundreds of tunnels that exit into it from every direction.

  “We’re in trouble,” Darin says.

  “Courage, son of Arlen.” Father lays a hand on Darin’s shoulder, and, amazingly, Darin allows it. Memories flash in Darin’s aura, other times they have stood thus when Darin was young. Ahmann Jardir was more father to Darin than he ever was to me.

  I have right to resent that, but am surprised to discover I don’t. Arlen Bales was Father’s ajin’pal. His blood brother. I touch my Tazhan armor. Chadan’s armor. I know the pain of losing your ajin’pal.

  If anyone in the world needs a da, it’s Darin Bales. Ahmann Jardir wasn’t there for me, but I feel better knowing Darin had someone he could always turn to.

  Footsteps, and the moment is broken. Darin slides away as the others, legs strong from weeks of marching, join us on Sharik Vonn.

  “The alagai have us surrounded.” Asome states the obvious, but someone needed to say it aloud.

  There are too many tunnels to easily count, but all of them shine bright as stars to my crownsight, teeming with demons clustered right at the edge of the csar’s forbidding. Some are around the cavern floor, others high on the wall or ceiling. All of them alive with scales and talons.

  “Which one is the queen comin’ through?” Gared asks.

  All of us look to Darin, but he only shrugs. “Core if I know.”

  Darin has a way about him. He’ll answer questions to the letter, but won’t volunteer anything, as if the spirit of the question never occurred to him.

  I lay a gentle hand on his arm and move my eyes into his field of vision. “A lot of people are going to die if we can’t narrow it down, Darin. We need more than a shrug.”

  Darin nods, looking around again. “Queen’s already big as a ranch house, not counting her wings. Ent a lot of tunnels she’d fit through. Reckon I’ll hear ’em comin’ when they get closer. These ones are just clustered all around so there’s no bottleneck when she gets here.”

  “Father,” I say. “The alagai are vulnerable, clustered so close to the forbidding without cover. With your permission, I will lead sallies to thin their numbers before the queen arrives.”

  “And when she does?” Ashia asks. “What will the alagai do, in the presence of their queen? Will the greatward not still hold them at bay?”

  “Queen eats magic like sugar,” Darin says, oblivious to how his words dampen morale. “Forbidding is just a hard candy shell to crack.”

  “Olive, lead your sallies to thin the alagai numbers,” Father says. “We must seize every advantage.”

  I come to attention, punching a fist to my chest. “Yes, Father.”

  * * *

  —

  Rhinebeck is mounted with the Royal Angierian Flamework Corps when I reach the stables. At times bringing horses this far underground seemed a horrible mistake, but now the advantage of mobility makes up for weeks of difficulty.

  I mount my own horse and ride over to him, close enough so the others cannot hear. “Your orders were to keep position atop the walls.”

  He crosses his arms at me, and the indignance in his aura takes me aback. “Is that how it is now, Olive? Banished from your presence? All my loyalty and sacrifice forgotten? We will both be needed in the csar when the true attack comes. Until then, I will do what I came to do.”

  He leaves the last bit unspoken, but I can see it clearly written on his heart. Rhinebeck came on this journey to protect me, and for no other reason. His loyalty and sense of duty outweigh his hurt feelings. Even now, he would die for me.

  And I for him. Isn’t that the very definition of a spear brother?

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I am glad to have you along.”

  * * *

  —

  Darin Bales, easily running to pace my horse, is less pleased to have Rhiney along, as are the demons. He dissolves into mist as soon as the flamework weapons begin barking fire, sending a withering barrage into the demons gathered at the edge of the forbidding.

  As the creatures fall shrieking to the cavern floor, I use my crown to put up a bubble of forbidding around the injured creatures as we trample them under warded hooves and cavalry spears before the Cutters march in on foot to make sure they stay down.

  It doesn’t seem to make a difference. More demons cluster behind those we fell, and more behind those. The Flamework Corps are already rationing ammunition, and I am hesitant to expend too much.

  I call them back and send in the fighters, making sure to keep them covered with the crown as they charge. The forbidding does not hinder them as they smash into the foe with Sharum spear walls, Cutter axe mattocks, and the warded clubs of the alamen fae.

  We strike wherever we can, felling hundreds of alagai, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference as more press forward to take their place.

  “Like slappin’ at the rain,” Darin says, but then his head tilts. “Trouble’s on its way.”

  “Where?” I ask. “How long do we have?”

  Darin turns, pointing to one of the largest tunnels, this one near the cavern ceiling. Impossible to guard. “Movin’ fast. We need to go.”

  I close my eyes, using one of my crown’s gems as a resonance stone. “Father.”

  “I sense it, child.” Father’s voice hangs in the air around us. “Return to the csar and reposition the Flamework Corps atop the wall.”

  Rhiney catches my eye and winks before giving his horse a kick and riding back toward the csar.

  * * *

  —

  Darin rides behind me in the saddle as we gallop ahead of the foot soldiers. It isn’t fast enough. There’s a shrill cry as the queen appears high above.

  “Night,” Darin whispers. “She’s…bigger.”

  Even at a distance, the queen is massive. Still sleek and agile, but I’d guess closer to one hundred feet long than Darin’s reported forty.

  I focus my crownsight on the demon queen, peering deep. The power contained in her is terrifying, so bright I have to squint and adjust before I can see more than glare. Clutched in her limbs, I find the true enemy.

  “The queen is on the field,” I tell Father. “She has the Father of Demons clutched to her chest. He is weak, but alive. I believe the mating is done.”

  My eyes drift to her abdomen, and my stomach knots painfully. Thousands of fertilized eggs, all drinking that rich power, and growing. A first laying of many to come, but already enough to throw the surface lands into another bloody demon war.

  “I will deal with Alagai’ting Ka as soon as you return to take the throne.” Again, Father speaks for all to hear from the resonance gemstone.

  I do not understand what even he can do alone against this creature, but I put my faith in my father’s reputation. “We are coming.”

  Magic skitters across the forbidding as the queen lands upon it like a bee atop a flower. Her wings buzz frantically as she thrusts her mouth against the wardnet and begins drinking its power like nectar.

  The queen pulses and swells larger. At the same time, I see the forbidding contract, exposing the foot soldiers trailing our fierce gallop toward the csar. The demons massed against the wardnet surge forward. In seconds our forces will be overrun.

  “Olive.” Father says only my name, but his meaning is clear in the link between us. He feeds fresh power to my crown, until I think I might burst with it.

  “Rhinebeck!” The crown amplifies my voice for all to hear. “Take your men back to the walls! The rest of you, cover the retreat!”

  They have barely a moment to cast curious looks my way before I snatch my spear from its harness and slip my feet from the stirrups. Darin skitters back as I put my feet on the saddle. I sense the waves of magic flowing from the csar to power the forbidding and wrap myself up in one as I spring.

  It isn’t flying, precisely, but it’s no less impressive. The wave’s arc carries me across hundreds of yards in a single bound. I roll the shield off my shoulder and onto my arm, charging its wards to their limits. I smash into the center of the wave of demons bearing down on my warriors, scattering them like leaves.

  “Prince Olive’s a miser!” Gorvan cries, part of a chant the Princes Unit used to shout before battle. “It is time to haggle for our lives!” They clash their spears against shields, and turn to face the tide with me.

  I’d rather they continue their retreat, but I cannot bring myself to deny their glory as my warriors, Hollower and Sharum alike, charge the foe.

  I raise my bubble of protection, but the lines have broken and blurred into open melee. I can keep the tide from overwhelming us, but we’ll have to deal with the ones in close the traditional way.

  My spear is a thing of fire in my hands. After seeing Father do it, it’s easy to feed some of the csar’s magic directly through my body and into the weapon. Charged until they overflow with power, the piercing and cutting wards penetrate the hardest alagai armor as easily as soft flesh.

  I skewer a stone demon, picking it clear up off the ground. I swing my spear like a hammer with the demon as its head, bashing lesser demons into pulp. I’ve always been strong, but Drawing on the csar’s power through the crown I am orders of magnitude stronger. I fling the stone demon into a charging web of cave demons, knocking them over like tenpins.

  I leap again, feeling unstoppable as I ride another line of magic to smash into a reap of field demons charging the Hollow Soldiers. I feed power to the field demon wards on my shield, practically incinerating them on the spot. They fall as burned-out husks, but I am already turning to draw an impact ward in the air with the tip of my spear. The weapon is holding so much power the resulting blast crushes another group of cave demons beyond hope of healing.

  My warriors do the rest, their glory boundless as they shed ichor.

  It is glory enough. We cannot win the field. “Back to the csar!” I command. “Quickly!”

  Flush with power, I steal another glance at the queen, wondering if I can end this myself.

  My sudden wild confidence bleeds away at the sight. She’s grown again, as the forbidding continues to shrink. Even if I rode a current that high and managed to pierce her armor, against a creature that size, my spear is little more than a needle. She’d drain me of magic before I did her any harm.

  She’s getting closer to the csar, and her demons with her. Minoc exit tunnels in the ceiling, swarming the walltops. I see Rhinebeck there, leading the Flamework Corps in shooting them down while the stinger teams prepare for the demons coming into range on the ground.

  I keep our retreating ranks under my crown’s bubble, but gwilji penetrate the field, harrying our forces as we flee to the csar. One leaps onto a Hollow Soldier’s back, but Darin materializes atop it, cutting free its claws with his mother’s knife.

  “Hurry.” I hear the strain in Father’s voice, feel it in our connection. “I do not know how much longer I can maintain the forbidding outside the csar.”

  I keep to the field until everyone else is inside. The moment the gates slam shut, Father draws the forbidding back to the csar walls. The queen stumbles in midair, wings buzzing as the net she was sucking on disappears.

  I catch a wave of magic, riding it to the walltop to watch in fear. With the cavern’s forbidding down, there is nothing to stop the queen and her drones from fleeing to repopulate their hive. If they do, we’ve lost. Everything that happened this past year would be for nothing. All those deaths, all that pain, and the demons still win in the end.

  But the queen is hungry, and she hasn’t finished her meal. She flies in close, hovering outside the forbidding as she resumes her drain. The golden magic of heroes’ bones, of sacrifice, seems to give her pause. She does not cease to feed, but slows as she struggles to corrupt something so pure.

  It’s only a matter of time before she succeeds.

  Spears fly from every open door and window, the weapons of ancient warriors called back into service by Father’s will. Soldiers draw wards in the air as the spears fly past in a spinning, buzzing cloud. They stream toward the queen, only to shatter against her armor.

  Rhinebeck orders the flamework teams to open fire, but the bullets have no more effect than the spears, little more than an irritation to the massive creature as she keeps focus on her meal.

  “Attend me,” Father commands.

  * * *

  —

  I listen to the sound of artillery fire, but the wardwalls appear to be holding against the demons on the ground. I can feel the csar’s enormous power, but it grows steadily weaker. How long can we hold out before the queen consumes us all?

  Father sits rigid on the Skull Throne, slid back until his crown is touching the sacred bones. His hands, white-knuckled, clutch the arms of the holy seat. His eyes are far away and unblinking. He looks like a statue of some ancient warrior king.

  But Father isn’t dead. His aura is bright as a star, fused almost completely with the power of the csar. He is it, and it is him. Every bit of masonry has become a resonance stone, and his voice is everywhere, commanding the defense as our enemies mount.

  I can see the truth of it, though. More and more of Father’s concentration is going toward simply powering the forbidding that keeps the demon queen at bay.

  “I have consulted the Damajah.” Father’s voice fills the air around us, even though his lips have not moved. “She has put forth a plan, but its weight does not fall to me.”

  I feel the tension in my belly at the mention of the Damajah. I had thought us free of her manipulations, but it seems she still has a part to play.

  “The replica crown has an open channel to the csar’s power,” Inevera’s voice joins Father’s in the empty air around us, “but it is not as…durable as the Crown of Kaji.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “It means Mother is dissembling,” Asome says. “She is saying that if Father feeds the crown too much power, it will explode.”

  “Along with whoever wears it,” Amanvah agrees.

  “Core it will,” Gared growls.

  “Outrageous!” Rhiney shouts.

  It takes me a moment to understand what they’re upset about, but then I see it clearly. For us to win, I have to die.

  I look around the room. At my friends and my family, at the alamen fae, my spear brothers and my citizens.

  “The crown does not mean power,” Mother told me once. “It means sacrifice.”

  I don’t want to die, but I was taught in sharaj to envision it. To imagine the honor of spending my life on alagai talons, a hero’s death. Of having my bones bleached and added to Sharik Hora to protect generations to come.

  The drillmasters taught us to imagine every death, from the glorious to the shameful. A flame demon’s spit. Being cast from a great height. Stabbed in the back. Stoned for immorality.

  Death is the only certainty of life, and what greater glory could there be than to take the Mother of Demons with me, so my people may live?

  I look up at the throne, punching a fist to my chest and offering a bow. “I’ll do it.”

  * * *

  —

  I give no one time to protest, and myself no time to reconsider. I Draw power, wrapping myself up in the csar’s magic and willing myself to fly into the stairwell and up to Sharik Vonn.

  Darin’s already waiting for me up there, of course. “Came all this way to save you, Olive, not watch you die.”

  That black little seed of pain inside him is growing now, as fast as the queen sucking at our wards, but it’s only in my power to stop one of them. “I’m sorry, Darin. You’re the brother I never had, and I love you. But this is my destiny.”