Chapter 15

Steam drifted through the early morning air in thick blankets, turning all the busy figures in the train-yard into hazy silhouettes. Rhosyn lifted another crate, this one labeled "Fire Whips", onto the Archer's Circus train.

Her hair was hidden under a woolen cap to conceal the color, but the hazy dawn made it seem unnecessary, even the garish green and yellow on the train cars appearing dull and muted. Her eyes darted down several cars to where Ansel stood, directing traffic as the circus loaded up their supplies for a supposed tour. The confident clip of his voice and sureness in his gestures as he pointed to where things should go painted him as in his element, but Rhosyn could just make out the outlines of weapons through his sleeves. She had even watched him shove a small pistol into the waistband of his pants before they left the safehouse this morning.

They had to be prepared for anything.

Two figures emerged from the mist and approached Rhosyn. The shorter of the two peeked up from under a hat, revealing Contessa's determined face. The taller silhouette paused just behind her, and Rhosyn couldn't help staring at the king's face for just a moment.

Dressed in a worn, striped shirt and gray trousers, a cap pulled low over mussed hair, it was hard to believe he wasn't just another lower city worker. Still, Rhosyn's throat stuck with nerves as she went to speak.

"Grab that crate and take it to Ansel over there. He'll tell you where to put it." If the King took offense to being ordered around, he didn't show it, doing as Rhosyn ordered. Apparently, Contessa had prepared him for the situation well, and he understood how important it was for him to get on the train undetected.

The pair disappeared into the mist, and the circus performers made quick work of loading the remaining crates and barrels in an organized dance, speaking of how used to being on the road they were. Before the sun had risen a few more degrees, Ansel was at her elbow, jerking his head to tell her it was time to get moving.

As he stepped up into the rearmost car and offered a hand to help her in after him, she opened her mouth to admit she had never been on a train before. Instead, she snapped her mouth shut as he helped her into the passenger car. This was too important a moment to admit to her inexperience.

Still, he saw her hesitation and interlaced their fingers, even when she was inside, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle on her skin.

"Nate will catch Mr. Gower," he assured, voice soft enough to not be heard over the hustle and bustle of all the performers finding a place to wait out the journey. "Mr. Gower already accepted an invitation to go to the palace today to discuss his sponsorships and to bring his Talented servants with him. Once he has his entire Talented army at the palace, he won't be able to resist taking another crack at the king…or the decoy who will be stationed in his study at least."

Rhosyn nodded, but a lump still rose in her throat. "So many things could go wrong."

"And he's got the best possible team for thinking on his feet." Ansel's arm dragged up to her shoulder, warm against her skin that had been chilled by the morning air. "From what I heard of your friend Scarlett, I wouldn't bet against her in any situation. She'll be keeping a close eye on the situation from the shadows, especially given that her husband volunteered to be the decoy."

Ansel pulled Rhosyn further into the train car, toward the cabin Contessa and the king had disappeared into. "By this time tomorrow, it will all be over, and you'll be free to live your life."

Rhosyn tugged his arm, stopping them in the hallway, now sparsely populated as people had hurried to find their place on the train. Slowly, the steam engine rumbled to life, and they started to trundle down the tracks. The train whistle blew, and Rhosyn paused what she was going to say until she could be heard, the locomotive picking up speed beneath her.

"What is the life I'll be going back to?" Rhosyn asked.

"Well, you don't have to go back to the exact same life you had, if you don't want to." Ansel hesitated. "You have some…new opportunities now. Archer's Circus is always looking for more security and I—I would like to have you around."

Rhosyn swallowed. It was such a momentously huge decision—to leave behind the life she had built to follow this thief, who had plucked her heart out of her chest as easily as she picked purses from pockets. But maybe it didn't have to be. Maybe, for once she could make a decision based on her heart, instead of just volunteering herself to solve the biggest problem she could find.

She opened and closed her mouth, trying to find the words to say this to Ansel. Before she could speak, an echoing thud ran through the train car. Rhosyn threw her hand out to catch herself on the wall as it rocked side to side, nearly throwing her off balance. Ansel frowned as the lamps hanging from the ceiling swayed in response.

Contessa's head poked out of the compartment she had disappeared into with the King. "Did we hit something?"

"It sounded more like something hit us," Ansel said.

Rhosyn moved to ask what would hit a train, but he held up his hand to silence her, looking up at the ceiling. They all froze, when over the rattle of iron on rails came the tromping of footsteps on the roof.

Rhosyn's heart leapt into her throat. Contessa's eyes widened.

"Stay in there, and bar the door," Ansel ordered Contessa.

Then, he marched off down the hallway. Rhosyn wasted no time in hurrying after him, towards the door between cars. When he reached it, he slid it open and stepped onto the narrow metal platform between the two bobbing compartments. Rhosyn tried not to look down as she joined him, but the blur of rails flying by, just inches below her feet, made bile rise in her throat. She had enough fear about being thrown from a carriage, it hardly bore thinking about what would happen if she fell from a train.

With little hesitation, Ansel turned to the short ladder leading to the top of the car and began to climb. As his fingers reached the top rung, Rhosyn looked up and gulped. She might not have the advantage of his Talent for balance, or years of experience on a trapeze, but she would not let him face whatever was up there alone.

She scrambled up the ladder, knuckles white as she gripped each rung with all her might, following Ansel as quickly as possible. When she crested the edge to crouch on the swaying roof of the train, any fear of the climb was overshadowed by the sight that greeted her.

Four men in dark clothes crouched at the far end of the car. The silver of knives and pistols glinted in their hands, and while three of them were unfamiliar, the face of one stood stark in her mind.

The man she had stopped from killing the king, who had sunk through the floor as if it were water.

"They're Mr. Gower's men," she hissed, barely audible over rumble of the steam engine. "Our plan."

Somehow, they had been found out. Nate, Scarlett, and Benedict were waiting for an assassination attempt at the palace, but the real danger was here, on the train that was supposed to be their safe getaway.

Rhosyn didn't have time to wonder how Mr. Gower had discovered their deception, as the man in the rear of the pack stood and pointed towards her and Ansel.

"Get rid of them first, then find the King."

When he spoke, his voice had an odd echoing quality. Rhosyn found herself blinking in a moment of stunned stupor, when it hit her. It was similar to the effect of Paul's voice when he lulled somebody to sleep, but the tone underneath was different.

Hamish, the groom with the power of persuasion. These other Talented were under his thrall as they stood and began prowling towards her and Ansel.

"Don't hurt them if you can help it!" Rhosyn shouted to be heard over the train whistle, sounding again as they trundled towards the edge of the city. "They aren't in control of their actions."

Ansel stood as well, and knives slid into his hands. Rhosyn dipped her hands into her pockets and slipped on the pair of brass knuckles, which Nate had handed her with a heavy look before she set out.

Then, Ansel charged. She was hot on his heels, dashing across the roof of the train towards the attackers. Before Ansel clashed with the first one, he jumped, flipping over his head and landing on the far side as if gravity were just a suggestion. Before his opponent could get his bearings and turn, Ansel kicked out at the back of his leg, forcing him down to his knee.

As much as Rhosyn's heart jumped into her throat, she didn't have time to worry about Ansel, her own assailant facing off against her.

He swung first, broad and wide against her, as so many did when faced with a willowy woman. She ducked under his meaty arm before driving her shoulder up into his diaphragm. He stumbled back, lifting one hand palm out.

For a moment, Rhosyn was impressed with herself for forcing her opponent to surrender in one hit, until a ball of light started forming in the palm of his hand.

Name: Thomas Pemberton

Power: Combustion

The sponsorship paper flashed through Rhosyn's mind for a split second before she threw herself sideways to avoid the blast. A strangled yelp escaped her as the force of the explosion clipped her right shoulder, sending her spinning out of the way. Her feet slipped on the roof, slick with droplets of condensed steam. She scrambled for a foothold, but it was too late. She landed hard on her side, and the gentle slope of the roof sent her sliding towards the edge.

The world whirred by in a sickening mix of steel and smoke as she scrabbled for purchase on the hard surface with her fingernails. Her grasp caught on the edge of the roof as she reached it, but her momentum was too great to stop.

Her body swung over the edge, and for a sickening moment, the rails flew by beneath her dangling feet. Then, her weight caught with a jerk as she managed to hang on, body colliding with the side wall of the train car with enough force to make her eyes water. Her toes scraped against the surface, trying to get enough purchase to adjust her grip and climb back up.

Every sensation in her body screamed for attention, from the howling of wind in her ears to the sharp pinch in her shoulders as she tried to haul herself up. She tried not to think about the certain death, splattered on the cobblestones, if she were to lose her grip.

She had just managed to get enough traction to start inching up the wall when a shadow darkened her vision. She craned her neck upwards to find her opponent standing above her, looking down at where she dangled precariously on the edge of life and death.

Bile rose in her throat as he opened his palm, pointing his arm straight down at her.

He was going to blast her off the side of this train. She wasn't going to be able to protect Contessa like she promised Nate. And she wasn't going to be able to tell Ansel that she wanted more than anything to see the world with him and his circus.

Light began to coalesce in her attacker's palm, but a new bolt of fire shot through Rhosyn.

Their plan had gone to utter hell, but when had that ever stopped Rhosyn before? Chaos was where she thrived, and she could cause a little of her own.

Gritting her teeth, she peeled the fingers of her left hand free of their death grip, so she dangled by just her right. The train shook, nearly knocking her free, but she gritted her teeth as she dug her free hand into the inside of her jacket.

Praying that some of Ansel's skill had rubbed off on her, her fingers wrapped around the smooth handle of a knife. In the same motion that she drew it out, she threw it forward, aimed squarely between her attacker's eyes. The pommel struck him in the forehead, and he stumbled back. As he fell, his arm shot up, and his explosive burst shot straight into the sky, shimmering like a silver firework.

Rhosyn struggled to climb back up, but before she could get a hold of the lip of the roof once more, Ansel's worried face appeared above her. He grabbed her by the elbows, hauling her back onto the roof. As she tumbled over the edge, she landed on her knees, one of his arms wrapped firmly around her to keep her from toppling off once again. Adrenaline from her brush with death left her shaky, but ready for another brawl.

Her eyes darted around the roof, finding three thugs lying unconscious. One was conspicuously missing.

"The groom," she shouted, just as her eyes caught on a silhouette running towards the front of the train. His form was obscured by the steam billowing from the engine and wafting in thick clouds towards the back, and he disappeared into the thickening haze.

Without hesitation, Ansel hauled her to her feet and they took off after him. When they reached the end of the car, he didn't break his stride before leaping over the gap onto the next one. Rhosyn refused to falter as she followed, her mind offering her an image of how she did the same chasing the Hood over rooftops during their first encounter weeks ago.

She didn't waver then, and she wouldn't now.

Before they were halfway across the second car, Ansel skittered to a stop in front of her so suddenly she nearly crashed into his back. She was about to shout at him when she saw why.

The front of the train passed under a bridge, and as it did, several figures jumped off it, landing on the roof before them and cutting them off. Heavy thuds sounded behind Rhosyn, and she spun, finding at least half a dozen more adversaries there as well.

They were surrounded by Mr. Gower's army of Talented, and all Rhosyn had was her fists and a few spare knives.

She backed up a few steps, until her shoulders hit Ansel's. Standing back-to-back with him, she raised her fists. The thugs started closing in like a noose, and Rhosyn's heart hammered in her chest.

"Think we can take them?" Ansel asked over her shoulder.

Despite it all, fondness tugged like a string below Rhosyn's ribcage. If she was going to go down, then she wanted it to be fighting side by side with Ansel.

"You kidding?" she quipped back. "If I were you, I would be worried that there weren't enough for both of us."

"I'll be sure to leave plenty for you," Ansel promised. He shifted his weight against her back, ready to leap into action.

Rhosyn bared her teeth, a growl building in her throat, when a screech of horses and clatter of wheels drew her attention. An open-topped phaeton crashed along the street running parallel to the train tracks, and Rhosyn started as she recognized the man in the driver's seat.

She hardly had time to register Benedict's reckless driving before two figures jumped from the back of the speeding vehicle. A cloud of shadow fell over the train as wings of darkness formed around the figures, helping them sail onto the train.

Nate landed in a crouch beside her, the Beast in action. As knives sprang into his hands and he snarled, the thugs around them couldn't help but back up a few steps.

Scarlett stepped out of the dissolving shadows, the darkness clinging to her like morning dew. Her expression was no less feral than Nate's as black daggers of pure night formed in her hands, turning her into the dark shadow only referred to in feared whispers.

The hope that had sputtered in her chest flared again.

"Well, now there definitely aren't enough for all of us," Rhosyn mused dryly.

Scarlett leaped into action first, Rhosyn only a beat behind her. The satisfying thud of knuckles against flesh overtook her mind as she took on her first opponent. She struck his cheek first, before he landed a kick to her shin. The sharpness of the pain shooting up her leg honed her senses, and she threw a vicious uppercut. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes, but she spun to find her next enemy before he hit the ground.

Her gaze caught on Nate, currently warding off three enemies. Rhosyn's vision swam as one of them seemed to waver in and out of existence, as if the light around him bent out of his way. Lightning danced at the fingers of a second, while the third loomed large enough to eat Scarlett for breakfast.

Rhosyn darted forward to come to her aid, but Nate caught her eye and shook his head.

"Follow that one!" he shouted, jerking his head towards the front of the train. "Contessa—" he shouted before he was cut off by a bolt of electricity that forced him to dodge out of the way.

Rhosyn didn't wait to be told twice. She darted through the mayhem, following the shadow of the man who continued running towards the front of the train. She couldn't quite make out who it was, but her gut told her it was the groom. With the Talent of persuasion pulling all of these Talented into his thrall, Hamish was sure to be the leader of this whole operation.

Rhosyn pumped her arms, feet pounding against the metal roof as she gained ground on him. Up closer to the engine as they were, the smoke grew thicker, burning her eyes and nose as she panted for breath.

She could barely make out the groom's silhouette, forced to squint against the billowing haze and the roar of the engine in her ears. Then, he dropped down and disappeared, and Rhosyn skittered to a stop at the edge of a car.

He had gone inside the train.

Rhosyn hurried down the ladder, fear of falling far outweighed by the fear of what would happen if the groom made it to Contessa and the king before she did. She burst inside to find that the chaos in the train was nearly as dense as the pandemonium outside.

Some of Mr. Gower's Talented army had managed to get into the cars, but the circus performers seemed to share Ansel's fighting spirit. One armed man was cowering on his knees, arms over his head and two men pummeled him with juggling batons. Rhosyn tore her eyes away from the spectacle to search for the groom, only to find him slipping through the door at the far end of the hall, back towards where the king was.

Rhosyn pushed through the mayhem, ducking around a clown armed with a pie, which he enthusiastically smashed into the face of another of Mr. Gower's thugs. She crashed through the car, following the groom into the next. In this one, one of the Talented assassins had been backed into a corner by a snarling lion, while the lion tamer stood next to him with folded arms in satisfaction.

She gained on the groom, but he was still half a car in front of her when he slipped through the door to the train car containing Contessa and the king. Rhosyn shoved through as fast as she could, lungs burning and heart hammering.

The door slammed open as she shouldered through it, only to find the hallway…empty.

Rhosyn froze, head whipping back and forth to locate the missing groom.

A hand landed on the back of her neck, and her shoulders hunched up.

"Stop."

The word rung through the air with crushing weight and settled into Rhosyn's limbs like lead. She struggled, but it was as if the connection between her brain and body had been cut, leaving her dangling like an abandoned marionette.

A rough chuckle sounded behind her, grating against her skin like stone.

"Usually it takes me weeks of building influence over somebody to be able to command them with my Talent so thoroughly. But if somebody lets their guard down enough to let me touch them, skin to skin, well…" Hamish chuckled again, Rhosyn's current helplessness clearly illustrating his meaning. "It's how I got one of the King's Guard to tell me where he had gone when I suspected a trap."

"Why are you doing this?" Rhosyn growled, seemingly still capable of speaking, despite being otherwise immobilized.

"Why shouldn't I?" he spat. "King Byron is like any other powerful man, willing to step on the rest of us to maintain control."

"You don't have to do this," Rhosyn insisted, voice taking on a pleading edge. "Whatever Mr. Gower has told you, it doesn't have to be this way. King Byron ended the Inquiries... You're safe now."

"I'll never be safe while my Talent makes me useful," Hamish growled, but his voice broke on the last word. "Mr. Gower…he has my son somewhere. I don't know where, but if I fail, he'll hurt him."

Rhosyn's heart sank. Another parent and child separated by a Talent. As much as her heart stuttered in sympathy though, she fought against his mental hold. If he succeeded, the Inquiries would start anew, and many more children would be ripped from their parents.

"I can help you," Rhosyn insisted. Her fingers started to wiggle, as if her paralysis eased, but then his grip tightened at the nape of her neck once more. She went rigid.

"Oh, you will. You're going to kill King Byron for me. You were already blamed for the last attempt, and I can't very well get my son back if I'm in jail."

His words doused Rhosyn in cold like ice. She tried to shout, but her voice seemed taken from her now too.

"Go on," he urged. "Knock on the compartment door. Your friend will recognize you and let you in. Then one slice with one of your knives, and it'll all be over."

His grasp on her nape loosened, but the claws that gripped her mind only dug in further. Rhosyn's feet took one step forward, then another. It was the sensation of being in a dream, her unconscious mind taking charge and leading her down a perilous path while her conscious self screamed helplessly from the sidelines. But there would be no waking from this dream. Not until the King's blood stained her already dirty hands.

Her arm raised, knuckles poised to knock on the entrance to the compartment holding Contessa and King Byron.

A crash interrupted her actions. She managed to turn her head to see Ansel crash into the car from the same direction she had come, although she couldn't move away from her position. Ansel froze in the doorway, panting heavily as his gaze darted over the scene in front of him, rapidly cataloging the situation.

"Ah, the infamous Hood, I presume. You've caused too many problems already," Hamish mused. "I suppose I can knock out two birds with one stone here. Kill him first."

Horror rose in Rhosyn's throat, a palpable thing making her unable to draw breath. Still, her hands slid into her sleeves, the knives within settling on her palms with the weight of finality. Rhosyn might not be the knife fighter Nate was, but she had brawled with Ansel enough times to know that in a fair fight, his odds were slim. If he were holding back for fear of hurting her… Rhosyn could only hope help came in time.

Ansel raised his hands, but Rhosyn advanced on him as if pulled forward by a string. With her eyes, she begged him to arm himself—to grab his blades before she was forced to drive her own into his flesh.

She raised her arm, and in the instant before it came down, silver flashed in his hand. He grabbed his knife just in time to catch her blow on the hilt of his weapon. In a flurry, Rhosyn disengaged. Rhosyn swung again and again, but Ansel only dodged, making no attacks of his own.

Her mouth was not under her control enough to form words, but she managed to squeeze out a choked sob. She hoped it conveyed all that her voice couldn't say right now.

Fight back. Please. I'd rather die here than have to watch myself kill you.

When she raised her arm next, Ansel took his shot. A blade thunked into the wall behind her. As her arm swung forward, she was jerked back, Ansel's knife pinning her to the wall by her sleeve—just as he had the first time they'd met.

Another thunk, and her other arm was pinned.

"Break free! Kill him!" the groom shouted, his voice clawing into her mind as she started to struggle against her restraints.

Ansel rounded on him, advancing when a ripping split the air as Rhosyn's sleeve gave way. To her horror, she brought the blade in her hand to her own throat.

"Stop," the groom commanded Ansel. Hamish's voice was his own, with no Talent behind it, but he didn't need it. Ansel froze as Rhosyn's movement caught his eye.

"If you attack me, I'll have her kill herself," the groom announced triumphantly.

Ansel's gaze met hers, his deep emerald gaze pleading. Her hand trembled, against her throat, the tip of the knife scratching the delicate skin there. A warm rivulet of blood trickled down to pool in the hollow of her collarbone. The sensation did something to cut through the odd haze of her mind.

"Rhosyn."

Ansel had said her name many times before. To get her attention. In frustration when she challenged him. At the peak of his pleasure.

But this was different. This was both a prayer and a plea. Full of love and a promise that Rhosyn didn't want: that he wouldn't hurt her even to save himself.

It struck something within her, the blow forming cracks in the stone grasp around her mind. She squirmed physically, her muscles twitching in response to her commands, although not yet fully responding.

"End this," the groom growled.

His orders pulled at her muscles, but Rhosyn knew now she could break free. She had to.

An image flew to her mind unbidden. The last assassin's eyes clearing of their odd haze as the chandelier knocked him squarely in the forehead. A blow to the head had freed him of the grip of the groom's Talent.

If Rhosyn knew how to do anything, it was take a hit.

With an almighty roar, she lunged forward, ripping her sleeve free and leaping at Ansel. The groom still compelled her to fight him, but she used the foothold of control she had to lead with her head.

Her forehead connected with Ansel's with a resounding crack. They both stumbled back, Rhosyn hitting the wall behind her and sliding to the ground. The groom screamed at her to get up. To kill Ansel.

But Rhosyn didn't move.

Her mind was free.

Her vision swam and her limbs flailed uncoordinatedly as she tried to recover from the blow to her head. Her vision cleared and she looked up, only for her heart to stutter once again.

The groom had drawn a pistol from his coat, and she now stared down the barrel of it.

"I'll have to do this the hard way then," he growled.

Rhosyn stiffened as a bang split the air, but no pain bloomed in her chest. Instead, the groom's face smoothed in shock. He wavered where he stood, crimson blooming across his chest.

He looked down at the spreading stain, but no horror crossed his expression. Instead, his eyes filled with something like relief.

"It's over then."

That was all he said before he toppled sideways, dead before he hit the ground. Behind him sat Ansel, back propped against the wall as he held a small pistol in a shaking hand. Rhosyn met his gaze over a bloody and already horrendously purple nose.

The gun fell from his hand, and Rhosyn was on him before it clattered to the ground. Blood dripped over his lips, streaming from a crooked nose, clearly broken by Rhosyn's inelegant attack. But his eyes were full of life, and his arms were warm and solid as he wrapped her in them.

She sat there in his embrace, and she wasn't sure if the shaking in her limbs was from the rumbling of the train or the trembling relief running through her body.

"You saved me," she murmured into his chest.

He nuzzled into her hair, smearing blood all over it, but she didn't care. "You did that yourself. You fought tooth and nail, like you always do. And you won."

They inhaled each other's presence in silence for a moment, only for it to be broken by the creak of a door sliding open.

Rhosyn raised her head to find Contessa, standing in the doorway, a look of utmost relief on her face. If Contessa's Talent told her it was safe to come out, then the fight must be over.

Contessa nodded at the question in Rhosyn's eyes. "We're safe now."