Chapter 4

Soren finally left the wall and returned to the estate Caris called home late in the afternoon. The drive through Cosian this time around went much slower, his way impeded by new damage done from dropped bombs. Damaged gas lamp lights meant the city had to cut off the flow of gas in certain areas while rescue crews dug through the rubble of collapsed buildings, looking for survivors.

Only two airships had managed to break through the Ashion defense, but they'd dropped a dozen bombs between them in the city's outer neighborhoods before being harried off by ground-to-air defenses and eventually shot down. If there were any survivors of those crashes out in the wilds of the Eastern Basin, Soren hoped the bodies burned before they rose as revenants.

His fellow wardens had nearly been overrun at the end, sections of their defense having to pull back and use their grappling crossbows to get hauled out of reach of the walking dead. The poison grenades had gone off closer than any of them would've liked, requiring the need for alchemist intervention starting tomorrow before some of the trenches could be manned again. The outer wall remained intact, which was the only positive.

The damage he passed was difficult to observe, knowing the death count would rise. But it was the Ashion people moving about with grim determination—either directly helping with the search and rescue efforts, pitching in to start clearing debris, or feeding those working—that caught Soren's attention. The resolve he could see and hear in those he passed was proof that Daijal hadn't broken them, but how long they could hold out was anyone's guess.

He braked to a stop at an intersection beyond the second inner wall, staring past the makeshift peacekeeper barrier that had been set up to block civilian traffic from the debris of several collapsed buildings. Bodies were laid out in the street under makeshift funeral shrouds consisting of torn sheets. A star priest moved from one body to the next, providing rites to the dead to see them onward to the stars.

Another velocycle drew up beside his. Enmei's attention was on the dead, a frown tugging at his lips. "The Ashion army needs better air support."

"Isn't there an E'ridian airship in the airfield?" Soren asked, thinking of Blaine and Honovi.

"They were in the air, but one war airship won't win a fight against half a squadron."

Soren looked away from Enmei, returning his attention to the efforts of the living. "How long before Ashionens burn their dead?"

"An aerial attack last autumn destroyed one of the city's crematoriums on the western side. It's only half rebuilt, delayed because of the winter storms. The other one is in the southeast side of the city. The dead will burn tonight, for however long it takes. Mourning will take longer."

It seemed senseless, all these innocent lives lost, simply because Eimarille wanted to rule past the borders she had been given. Soren raised a hand, pressing his fingers over the outline of the vow tucked beneath his shirt, a quiet discomfort eating away at his thoughts.

"Ashion won't win as they are, will they?" he asked quietly.

Enmei twisted his velocycle's handlebars, revving the engine. "No, I don't think so."

The other warden drove off to wherever he stayed in Cosian. Soren watched the survivors work a little longer before leaving, not wanting anyone to recognize him. He drove back toward the center of the city at a slow speed, mindful of the abandoned vehicles and the people working to put their city back to rights again.

When he finally turned onto the street that held Caris' estate, the Royal Guard let him pass without argument, the number having doubled since the morning. He drove his velocycle up the estate's drive and parked it behind a motor carriage. He removed his brass goggles and shoved them in the travel compartment, along with his gloves. He'd cleaned up as best he could at the facilities assigned to wardens near the main gate, removing any excess poison that might have transferred during the fight.

He needed a bath more than anything, and he couldn't help but think of the bathhouses in Solaria that he'd shared with Vanya. Those didn't exist in Ashion, and he'd have to make do with the small copper tub in the estate's guest washroom. As much as he was looking forward to a hot soak, it would have to wait. When he entered the home, the hallway beyond the foyer rang with loud, arguing voices.

Moments later, a door slammed open, and Caris stalked out of a room down the hallway, heading in the other direction with jerky strides. She disappeared around a corner right as Lore darted out of the room and skidded to a stop in the hallway. "Caris!"

She didn't run after the other woman, though, hands fisted at her side as Blaine stepped out of the room, expression resigned. He said something too low for Soren to hear before touching Lore's shoulder and heading off in the direction Caris had gone in. Lore let out a heavy sigh and turned on her feet, jerking slightly when she caught sight of Soren. With determined steps, she closed the distance between them, a mix of relief and anger on her face.

"You went past the wall when General Votil told you not to," Lore said by way of greeting in stilted trade tongue.

"Your general isn't mine," Soren replied. "I had my duty."

"You aren't a warden anymore." Soren didn't even bother replying to that, merely stepped around her and walked away in the direction Caris and Blaine had gone. "Alasandair!"

Soren grimaced at the use of that name and refused to respond to it. He bypassed the room where Meleri and a handful of people he didn't know were huddled, ignoring the cry of his name the duchess let out.

In the scant few weeks he'd lived in the estate, he knew the one place Caris always went to when she felt out of sorts and needed to clear her head. The door to the small laboratory in the rear garden was shut, but the gas lamp lights were turned on, a soft glow shining through the windows. Soren didn't bother knocking, and instead let himself inside to the furious sound of Caris venting her frustration to Blaine.

Soren couldn't really understand what Caris was saying, but he understood the look of frustration in her gestures, and the grief on her face, even if the tone of her voice was all anger. Caris made a sound not unlike a furious hawk might make. The machinery and chunks of clarion crystals scattered around the worktables vibrated in place, a few tools rolling off the edge to the floor.

Soren watched her take a deep breath, hands clenched into fists, and squeeze her eyes shut. The shaking stopped, everything settling back down. The temperature in the laboratory took a nosedive, the heat Soren had thought had accumulated during the day actually coming from Caris.

"What's wrong?" Soren asked in the trade tongue.

Caris wrenched her eyes open, startled, and stared at him. "You're back."

Blaine twisted around, relief writ clear across his face. "Captain Nash was furious you decided to fight. Caris wanted to join you, but General Votil forbade it."

Soren stared at Caris. "You're not a warden. You can't go past the walls during a revenant attack."

"I could burn them from the top with starfire," Caris shot back waspishly. "I did it on your island."

The shores of the Warden's Island still retained black glass scattered through the sand from her efforts. He'd nearly cut through the sole of a boot from the shards once. "Maybe next time."

Caris smiled thinly, gray eyes hard. "If Meleri has her way, I'll never see the fighting up close."

Blaine sighed tiredly. "You know why we can't have you on the front lines."

Caris raised her hand and spread her fingers. The bright, incandescent glow of starfire crackled into existence against her palm, the shine of it as brilliant as its namesake. "I think I would have better reach than even our best artillery."

"Not if you're dead," Soren retorted.

"I feel as if I'm useless here, treated like a child, when I could be helping people."

"You are helping people," Blaine said.

Caris' lips twisted bitterly. "Not enough. You know it doesn't matter where I stand. Eimarille wants me dead. She wants Soren dead. It's the only way she can claim the starfire throne. So long as we live, the North Star's decree can be put out, and she will stop at nothing to make sure that doesn't happen."

The vow hung like a noose around Soren's neck, a weight that had never felt as heavy as it did in that moment. He'd thought about it in the weeks since his arrival and he'd learned what Ashion was up against, what it would mean to finally use what was promised, and what would happen if he didn't. But this war was about more than just the starfire throne—it was about the whole of Maricol, even if some countries refused to act. To let Eimarille win would see the subjugation of the wardens, and Delani had tasked him with guarding them.

"If there was a way to get Solaria to ally with you, would you take it?" Soren asked.

Caris curled her fingers over the starfire burning in her hand and snuffed it out before crossing her arms over her chest, giving him an odd look. "Of course, but my diplomats have been unsuccessful in convincing the Imperial emperor or his Senate to change course."

Soren hooked his thumb under his collar, snagging the gold chain of the vow and dragging it free. The medallion spun at the end of the links, glittering in the gas lamp lights that burned in the laboratory. "I saved Vanya's life some years ago. I am owed a debt, and he will pay anything I ask. If you need an alliance, I can get you the Legion."

Caris' eyes went wide, and she didn't immediately speak. Blaine, on the other hand, had no qualms about expressing his shock. "You're that warden?"

Soren let the chain go, and the vow thumped heavily against his chest. It took effort to get his answer out, feeling as if the vow itself was strangling him. "Yes."

"What are you talking about?" Caris asked.

Blaine waved his left arm at Soren, gears clicking subtly in his mechanical prosthetic. "When the Imperial emperor was a prince, he was nearly assassinated and thought dead for a few days back in 931. The news made it to E'ridia via telegraph and broadsheets, and then an update came a few editions later, stating he'd survived with the aid of a warden. We never found out the warden's name, though."

"A rival House tried to poison Vanya. At the time, they didn't approve of his marriage. I reached him before the poison could take effect," Soren said.

Caris came around the worktable and approached, only stopping when she stood toe to toe in front of Soren. Her eyes were locked on the vow, gaze unreadable. She didn't try to touch it, which Soren was thankful for. "Would the Imperial emperor truly lend us his Legion?"

Soren wrapped his hand around the medallion, the imprint of the lion cutting into his palm. He tried not to think about the devastation in Vanya's eyes during their last night together. "He will if I ask."

It would forever bar him from Vanya's side, no chance of returning to the man he wanted more than anything. He hadn't lied when he'd told Vanya he would never ask for himself, but Ashion—no, Maricol—was worth losing Vanya forever.

It had to be.

"Then you're my newest Solarian diplomat. I assume you know the language?"

Soren smiled tightly. "Better than Ashionen."

"You're lucky we're fluent in trade tongue, or it'd be a headache for all of us." Caris looked over at Blaine, looking more hopeful than she had mere minutes ago. "If Solaria joins the war effort, do you think that would prompt E'ridia to as well?"

Blaine made a face. "The Comhairle nan Cinnidhean wouldn't take that as a sign to ally ourselves with your country. It would take more than a given vow to bring the E'ridian air force into play. Honovi is set to fly to Glencoe in a few days. He will argue your case, as always."

"If I can't have your airships, I'll take Solaria's Legion. Let's bring this news to Meleri and Clarence. I anticipate a long evening ahead of us."

Blaine was the first one out of the laboratory while Caris lingered behind. Soren was astute enough at social hints now that he kept his feet planted as well. She met his gaze with a frank steadiness that he returned. "Is there a chance the Imperial emperor would deny your vow, despite your assertations?"

Soren had a feeling Vanya would try, if only fleetingly. The Houses who already distrusted Vanya's decisions wouldn't trust this, but Soren told himself he couldn't think about that. Vanya had offered the vow with no restrictions, and Soren had never thought he'd ever use it, for he'd had no intention of painting Vanya into a corner. But he knew if he brought the vow to Vanya and demanded payment, Vanya would keep his word because if he didn't, the House of Sa'Liandel would lose all the loyalty left to it.

"He won't," Soren said with a sureness he felt down to his bones.

Vanya was, above all else, an honorable man. He would do what was right; of that, Soren had no doubt. It would just break Soren's heart in the process.