Chapter 3

Soren's head ached with the constant chatter of a language he didn't understand. He knew Solarian, and he knew the trade tongue, but he'd never learned Ashionen, and the gap of his understanding was clear in every meeting he attended with Caris over the weeks since flying north. He knew she meant well by wanting to keep him included in the high-level talks with military officers and nobility, but all it did was leave Soren feeling as if he were a bug under an alchemist's microscope.

The room he'd been given in the small estate Caris called home was clean, the closet filled with clothes Soren rarely wore. His preference was still for the field uniform he'd worn for years as a warden, the leather and durable cloth a comfort, even if it made people question his identity as Caris' brother. The broadsheets insisted on referring to him as Prince Alasandair Rourke, according to Caris, much to her chagrin. She still called him Soren, as did everyone in her court, which consisted of exactly one lady-in-waiting in the official records so far and a man who Soren assumed was Caris' betrothed, despite not seeing any rings on either of their fingers.

Nathaniel Clementine was friendly enough, if more than a bit reserved. Lady Lore Auclair knew a bit of Solarian, though her trade tongue was better. Along with her mother and brother, they were the next highest-ranked nobles in the country after Caris, and the three of them had to be more than simply an old bloodline. The meetings they took with the military and others spoke of different roles that no one had yet to inform Soren of. But he'd spent enough time in the Imperial court to know the ebb and flow of political power, and Duchess Meleri Auclair had plenty of it.

Then there were the E'ridians, the jarl and his husband, who seemed quite content to remain in Cosian with their single E'ridian war airship despite the fact that country had no alliance with Ashion. Blaine and Honovi were fluent in the trade tongue. Speaking with them was always a relief, a soothing bit of sound after hours spent with the tutor trying their best to teach Soren Ashionen and the manners and habits of a people that had never been his.

The tea and food were different, and some mornings, Soren found himself acutely missing the strong tea or sweet chai he'd always had at Vanya's table and the savory, family-style breakfast spreads favored by Solarians. Ashionen food lacked the spices and chilis he'd grown used to over the years. The food shortage that had hit the eastern provinces meant not everything was available, but Soren didn't really think that mattered. Ashionen food was not as heavily spiced as Solarian, and he had yet to locate any sort of restaurant in the frontier city that served the dishes he missed.

He'd taken to brewing his tea in the kitchen without aid from a cook, making the black tea darker than was preferred by everyone else in the home. It wasn't as strong or as spiced as the kind he'd drunk in Solaria, but it did its job of waking him up before dawn every morning.

The early hours were always quiet in the estate, something Soren appreciated, knowing that it wouldn't be long before his ears were assailed with Ashionen. He was busy sprinkling a spice that smelled similar to one used in chai into his tea when someone cleared their throat behind him. He'd heard their footsteps in the hall before they arrived and so didn't jump at the sound.

"It's early," Blaine said in the trade tongue.

"I'm not leaving," Soren replied with a shrug.

He'd thought about it so many times since arriving in Cosian and stepping off that airship. But Delani had given him a border to guard, and Soren had never in his life walked away from his duty. He wasn't about to start now.

A brief pause before Blaine's footsteps drew closer. "Do you always walk around with your weapons on?"

Out of habit, Soren reached over his right shoulder for the hilt of his poison short sword, the clarion crystal embedded in the pommel cool to the touch. His gloves were tucked into his front pockets while he prepared his tea and the toast in a contraption that Caris had proudly said she and her father had modified together when she was younger. She'd shown him how to drop slices of bread into the two holes while the clarion crystal–powered machine heated the bread to the desired crispness.

His toast was currently resting on a plate, butter melting on both slices, and his tea was almost how he could drink it here. "I've learned it's better to be armed no matter where I am."

Soren tried not to think of everything that had transpired in the Imperial palace before Vanya burned it down to keep Calhames safe. The fight in the star temple would have gone poorly if he'd been without his gear, but even then, he'd still ended up in that coffin in the crypt. Only bowing to his need to survive and casting starfire had enabled him to escape, starting an avalanche of decisions that ended with all his lies laid bare to Vanya, but his princeling and Raiah safe.

"I can't say I disagree with that," Blaine said after a moment.

Soren picked up his teacup and plate, turning to carry them both over to the small prep table the kitchen staff typically ate their meals at. Blaine was already pulling one of the low stools out to sit down, dressed in his sleep clothes, the mechanical prosthetic limb Soren rarely saw him without missing. The stump of his left arm was scarred, skin faintly reddened but healed. Blaine absently massaged his left elbow, wincing as he did so.

"Need a potion?" Soren asked.

Blaine blinked at him before glancing down at his arm. "Ah, no. Just phantom pains that interrupted my sleep. Potions don't do much for that, and I didn't want to disturb Honovi any more than I already have."

Delani had told Soren how Blaine had come to lose his arm. To know that a warden had sought monetary gain over their brethren during the attack on the Warden's Island had been devastating to learn.

Soren sipped his tea, eyeing Blaine across the prep table. It was early yet, the sun just starting to break on the horizon when he'd stuck his head out the window before coming downstairs. The estate was small, with only a limited number of servants, most of whom didn't live on-site. He expected the kitchen staff to arrive shortly, taking back the prep table.

"Your husband was an ambassador, but he's here as a jarl," Soren said.

Blaine nodded, letting go of his left arm to prop his elbows on the table. "He's here because I am here, but he isn't speaking for E'ridia."

"You want to stand witness for Caris. Seems odd E'ridia would be invested in that if they aren't invested in the country."

Blaine's mouth tugged downward at the corner. "Yes, well, the Dusk Star gave me my road, and I must follow it. Honovi is working to convince the Comhairle nan Cinnidhean that supporting Ashion in this fight is a worthwhile decision. We'll head back to E'ridia soon enough to continue that argument. Eimarille won't stop her war at the Eastern Spine."

Soren grimaced and couldn't even blame his expression on the tea. "She won't stop until she has the whole of Maricol under her crown."

"I agree, but I'm not in charge, and Ashion needs more support," Blaine said tiredly, reaching up to rub at his eyes with his one remaining hand. "Urova is allied with Daijal, so we can't ask for assistance from that country. Caris' diplomats have petitioned E'ridia and Solaria for aid, but both countries keep refusing. There's been talk of trying to reach the Tovan Isles, but any outreach would run through another country, and I don't think permission would be granted. I fear Ashion as a country won't survive to winter without finding an alliance somewhere, and no one is offering a lifeline."

The tea Soren had taken a sip of went sour on his tongue. He was acutely aware of the vow that hung from his throat. "And if E'ridia won't give it? Will you stay?"

Blaine looked away, expression becoming troubled and resigned. "My road leads to Caris, and it always has."

Soren knew Blaine's history with Caris, how he'd taken her out of Amari when she was just an infant, both of them put on an airship captained by the Dusk Star. Nilsine had left Caris in Cosian and given Blaine to the clans in E'ridia, and the price for Blaine's life was the knowledge he couldn't leave his birth country behind. Soren found they had that in common, if little else. "Your broadsheets talk about me being her heir, but you can't stand witness for me. There are plenty of people who don't believe the story she's trying to sell."

"If you could cast starfire?—"

"Even if I could, that proves nothing," Soren interrupted. He still refused to acknowledge that skill, despite the way everyone in Cosian seemed desperate to know if he could command starfire the same way Caris and Eimarille could.

"Doesn't it?"

"Starfire is a rarity, but people argue it shouldn't be a requirement to rule. Look at your clans. Look at the Tovanian ship-cities." Soren picked up a slice of his toast and took a bite, chewing angrily and swallowing before responding. "There are no records of my past or where I come from. Anyone could be Caris' brother. Starfire had nothing to do with it. You all just chose me."

"You told Caris you would be her heir."

"Yes. That doesn't make me Alasandair. The moment you get her on the starfire throne, I'm leaving." Blaine appeared taken aback at that statement, mouth opening to speak, but before he got a word out, the piercing sound of a siren rent the air. Bone-deep instinct yanked Soren to his feet, attention sharpening. "Revenants?"

Blaine winced as he shoved himself to his feet. "Yes, and most likely another aerial attack. The Daijal army has been pairing both together more and more these days. We need to get below."

Soren shook his head. "I'll make my way to the wall."

"Soren—"

But he was already moving, racing out of the home and bypassing the Royal Guards out front who were coordinating with the ones on duty on the street. Captain Maurus Nash was near the gate barking out orders when he caught sight of Soren heading straight for his velocycle.

"What do you think you're doing?" Maurus furiously called out in the trade tongue.

Soren slung himself over the seat of his velocycle, kicking up the stand and starting the engine with a twist of the knob and a wrench on the handlebars. "Heading to the wall."

He'd left his gear on the velocycle since landing in Cosian, still somehow believing he could attend to his duties as a warden even when Delani was insistent he could no longer be one. The warning sirens echoing through the air was a call no warden could ever ignore, and Soren wasn't about to stop now. He grabbed an extra pair of brass goggles from the storage container behind his seat and yanked them on. Then he looked at the closed gate and the soldiers guarding it. "Open the gate."

Maurus' expression twisted. "Your Royal Highness?—"

"You want me to be your prince, then you're going to listen to the orders I give. Open the damn gate, or I will do it for you."

The captain swore, hesitating only another second before gesturing sharply at those under his command. A soldier hastily undid the lock on the gate and shoved it open. Soren revved the engine and drove forward, wheels biting into the cobblestones as he headed off the grounds.

Cosian was a city whose streets he'd learned the first week of his arrival inside its walls. Soren knew exactly the path he needed to take to get from the center of the city, through its inner walls, and toward the massive outer ones. The route was one Enmei had suggested when Caris had first introduced him to the other warden.

That had been an awkward meeting between the two, but the other warden had heard him out when he'd requested the best roads to travel if they were called to the walls in an emergency. This definitely counted as an emergency, and Soren was glad for his velocycle as he weaved through streets full of abandoned vehicles as people ran for cover.

He'd not been in Cosian for an attack, though it was impossible to miss the number of soldiers mixed in with civilians. They were the ones racing to their assigned defensive positions, and Soren did his best not to run any of them over. The warning sirens never stopped, and beneath the sound was a repeated warning in Ashionen of the oncoming threat.

Soren pushed his velocycle faster, the vibrations from the engine thrumming through the frame between his legs. He leaned into the curve as he took corners at speeds he normally wouldn't push in a city, but he didn't have a choice. Neither was he the only warden gunning for the outer wall.

Other velocycles turning onto the main boulevard were driven by wardens, more than Soren was used to seeing when on the road. But the war had upended everyone's borders, and the influx of wardens that had once guarded Daijal and Urova now found themselves handling the dead in the wake of a war.

When they all got to the main city gates that led to the trade road, the doors were barred shut. Automatons up on the wall had their Zip guns pointed at the land beyond, while the heavy anti-airship guns were being rotated into position.

Enmei was already at the gate, talking to a soldier whose epaulets and ranking pins showed him to be captain. Enmei didn't look pleased with whatever the captain was telling him, judging by the tight, narrowed-eyed expression on the warden's face.

"—not safe for you to be in the line of fire," the captain argued in the trade tongue.

"Waiting for the bombs to drop inside the city puts us at just as much risk. Your airships are launching to meet the ones coming our way. If we don't deal with the revenants now, we'll be hunting them for days in the basin," Enmei replied.

"General Votil wants the gates kept closed."

"The general doesn't speak for us wardens when it comes to revenants."

Soren braked to a stop, back wheel skidding sideways a little until he planted his feet. He shoved his brass goggles on top of his head to better pin the soldier with a hard look. "Open the gates."

The captain did a double take at his order, blinking rapidly as he stared at Soren. "Your Royal Highness?"

Soren grimaced at the title but didn't protest it. "Our duty is out there, so open the gates."

"You heard him," Enmei said, jerking his thumb at the gates. "Let us through."

The captain swore under his breath before spinning on his feet and shouting out an order. Within moments, the metal gate was pulled upward. Soren looked at Enmei, giving the other warden a tight nod. "Orders?"

"Airships are incoming from the west, but the horde is less than two miles out and moving quick. We think Daijal dropped the revenants sometime before dawn and waited for them to make the trek to the walls. It's been their typical practice as of late."

"What's the defense we take beyond the walls?"

Hordes were typically found in the wild beasts population, though travelers who got lost in the poison fields or near bogs and died were known to cluster together as revenants. Thanks to the death-defying machines, this war produced hordes in terrifying numbers, and a single warden couldn't hope to stand against them.

Enmei strode over to the makeshift armory that had been built, reached down, and flipped open the lid of a crate by his feet. "We keep position by the outside walls, near the trenches. That will ensure we stay under the line of fire from those above. The gates will remain closed after our departure, which means if we need to get clear of the ground, we use a grappling wire."

Wardens were already there, hauling away crates and extra gear that they normally didn't travel with. Enmei handed Soren a grappling crossbow, which he secured to his back over the sheath for his poison short sword with the other warden's help. Then he helped Enmei carry a crate to his velocycle, where they secured it behind the seat. A quick check inside showed the disassembled mechanical pieces of a portable grenade launcher. They were shoulder mounted, meant to be handled by two people.

"How good are you at loading grenades?" Enmei asked.

"I handled them on the island when assigned to the fort's walls," Soren said.

Enmei nodded sharply. "Good. You're with me. I don't care what the governor says. You're still a warden in your blood and training, and we need every last one of us in the poison fields right now."

Other wardens loaded up their own velocycles as they arrived, everyone moving with a grim sort of purpose. Soren was itching to leave by the time the Ashion captain returned to them, a troubled expression on his face. "General Votil has asked that I request you stay within the walls while the wardens do their duty, Your Royal Highness."

Soren kicked up the stand on his velocycle and started the engine. "No."

The Ashionens could want to parade him around all they liked to rally their people, but Soren wasn't about to walk away from his duty as a warden. He followed Enmei through the gates and into the flat land of the Eastern Basin, their tires eating up dirt.

Sparse grass and scattered prickly shrubs stretched across the dry ground on either side of the wide trade road. In the distance, on the horizon, a shadowy smudge that could have been fog was steadily growing larger—Daijalan war airships coming to bomb Cosian. More threatening than that was the moving mass of revenants stalking their way toward the city.

The wardens split up, driving in opposite directions to their assigned positions. The Ashion army had dug trenches into the ground some distance from the outer wall, with heavy artillery positioned by each one. The trenches had been abandoned when the warning sirens started up. The Ashion army couldn't afford to lose its soldiers to revenants and spores and had pulled everyone back inside the walls. If this war was being fought with only the living, the trenches wouldn't have been abandoned, and the wardens wouldn't be out there fighting to keep Cosian safe.

"The wall defense will cut through the horde from a distance. We're to handle those that break through," Enmei said after they reached their position outside the wall.

The poison in the grenades would incapacitate the revenants, keeping them unmoving long enough for the wardens to gather the bodies for dozens of pyres. The chemical concoction had been brewed by the remaining alchemists on the Warden's Island and put into production on an expedited notice for use in the poison fields while the war raged. They were far more potent than what the army could produce. Cleansing the poison fields afterward was going to be the work of a generation once the war was won.

If it was won.

"And the airships?" Soren asked. Before Enmei could speak, a fast-moving shadow passed over them, the wide expanse of it causing him to look up. An Ashion airship flew overhead, gaining altitude, followed by another and then another.

"They'll try to keep Daijal's from bombing the city."

They parked their velocycles on the ground near a trench. Neither of them jumped into the trench itself, instead setting up behind it. The crates were taken off the velocycles and the shoulder-mounted grenade launcher assembled with a speed that spoke of Enmei having done this plenty of times before.

Soren flipped open the lid of the crate that held the poison grenades in padded compartments. He picked one up and loaded it into the rear metal tube of the launcher, listening as the gears clicked into place with sharp sounds. Enmei stayed kneeling, fingers resting against the body of it, near the switch and buttons that would launch the grenade.

In the distance, coming closer, was the horde of revenants.

"Ready on the wall!" someone bellowed above a few minutes later.

"Ready below!" Enmei, Soren, and other wardens ranged down the way shouted back.

Seconds later, the sound of Zip guns going off above filled the air, the heavy rat-tat-tat of the rapidly fired bullets loud in Soren's ears. The revenants at the front of the oncoming horde were torn to pieces by the bullets and fell. The ones behind marched over the ruined bodies, some of which still tried to crawl forward, before they, too, fell beneath the onslaught of bullets.

Those on the wall knew not to aim so close to the trenches, which meant when the inevitable happened and revenants lurched forward past that invisible line, Enmei and the other wardens acted. The flare of light and smoke from the grenade launching smelled like hot metal. Soren couldn't follow its trajectory, but he saw when it hit. The explosion of dirt and body parts was obvious, as was the way the revenants within the blast radius all abruptly fell to the ground, the poison from the grenade incapacitating them.

Soren reached for another grenade and loaded it with grim determination, never taking his eyes off the horde of revenants that just kept coming.