Chapter 12

When the bombs dropped north of the palace, they shook the earth and walls of the vast structure. Eimarille wavered on her feet as if it were an earthquake, gripping the war table with tight fingers before finding her balance again. Kote glanced up at the ceiling where the gas lamp chandeliers swayed from the shaking, a grimace tugging at his mouth. "The bombing runs are getting closer."

Eimarille rested one hand on the long dining room table that had been repurposed for command use. Kote had taken over one wing of the palace for use by the Daijalan commanding officers overseeing the war effort. The officers in the trenches around Amari and those trying to keep New Haven from succumbing to the siege kept relaying updates back to Kote and his high command, searching for guidance.

"What is the likelihood of our airships being able to initiate a counterattack?" Eimarille asked.

"Low. We've lost too many over the last few weeks trying to hold back E'ridia's push west. Any airships in reserve would have to be called away from New Haven."

Which was impossible, given the travel time, to be effective. They were needed to support Daijal's capital against the siege. Eimarille had exchanged one unsafe capital for another, but while her son was hidden away in the safe room beneath the palace, she could not join him. If ever Eimarille was to claim what was rightfully hers for Lisandro's sake, then she could not hide.

A communications officer hurried through the door at the far end of the room, making a beeline for where Eimarille stood with Kote. The young man handed over a piece of paper to the high general, the message written out in blocky script. "Sir, a message from the Klovod."

Eimarille extended her hand to Kote. "Let me see."

He passed it over after sparing the message a brief glance. Eimarille read it, lips pursing. "He has Nathaniel Clementine with him."

"Which means the usurper is past the walls," Kote said.

Eimarille's hand drifted toward the televox clipped to her belt beneath her day jacket. Terilyn had yet to ring her, and her lack of communication was worrisome. When they'd received the call from soldiers in the city of the supposed wardens being transported under guard by a rionetka, there on the Klovod's orders, Terilyn had left to coordinate the ambush at the Amari jail. "The Klovod doesn't mention Terilyn."

"Have faith in your Blade's work. I am certain she is?—"

The echoing boom of an explosion rattled the room's window and sent everyone stumbling. Kote braced her even as he barked out orders to the soldiers around them. Eimarille's ears rang, her thoughts going immediately to her son.

"They're hitting the palace. We need to get you to the safe room," Kote said in a low voice.

"No." Eimarille carefully shrugged out of his grip, standing up straighter. "That hit was a mistake. They won't risk a heavy run without knowing where their precious traitor is, and they won't turn the starfire throne into rubble."

She knew that in her bones, confident she was right. The Ashionens and their allies had refrained from bombing Amari directly until now. Many of its citizens were loyal to the other side, and she'd kept the capital closed over the last year to use them as a deterrent. As harsh as the fighting was in the trenches, the city had so far been spared heavy bombing runs.

Kote inclined his head at her statement. "We must stay vigilant. They've already broken through the outer wall, despite our best efforts."

"The inner walls will hold. They won't want the city to succumb to revenants more than it already has."

She'd made a calculated choice to flood the catacombs with revenants. Causing cave-ins risked the buildings above, but the dead could remain down there as a threat indefinitely. Eimarille had believed the Duchess Auclair would reveal the existence of the catacombs to the Ashion army and their allies. So Eimarille had ensured the way through the tunnels would remain perilous, even if one could cast starfire. However the traitors had gotten inside Amari, Eimarille would ensure they didn't leave the capital alive.

"I will see Lisandro, and then I will need an escort to the starfire throne," Eimarille said.

Kote looked as if he wanted to argue but held his tongue in the face of Eimarille's order. "Of course, Your Royal Majesty."

Eimarille left the command room surrounded by the royal guard, who whisked her to the safe rooms beneath the palace. The gas lamp–lit hallway leading to them bristled with soldiers, all of them willing to lay down their lives to ensure her son's safety. They saluted her arrival and had the heavy iron door at the far end open for her by the time she reached it.

Eimarille took the stairs down on light feet, the space below brightly lit. Soldiers were posted inside as well, standing up against the wall and not interfering with the servants, nursemaids, and governess in charge of keeping Lisandro distracted from everything happening above.

"Mama!" Lisandro cried out, abandoning his lessons in favor of running toward her in a way unbecoming of a little prince, but she hadn't the heart to chastise him.

Eimarille knelt, gathering him in her arms and hugging him close. His small arms wrapped around her neck, and she breathed him in. Eimarille stood, carrying Lisandro with her over to the nearest armchair. She sank into it, barely aware of the servants curtsying and leaving deeper into the suite of rooms, the soldiers trailing after them.

For a moment, it was just herself and her son in the city she'd been born in thirty-one years ago. She'd wanted to make Amari home for him, and she would, once the war was over. Eimarille smoothed back Lisandro's blond hair and kissed the top of his head. "My darling little prince."

"Mama, will you stay?" Lisandro asked. "It sounds loud upstairs."

Eimarille hated that he was scared, but she braved a smile for him, wishing desperately that Terilyn was there with her to help soothe him. "I promise to make it quiet for you. Until then, you must stay down here and be my brave boy. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course!"

Eimarille hugged him tight, squeezing her eyes against the sudden hint of wetness that dampened her lashes. But her voice was steady and calm when she said her goodbyes. "I will always love you. I promised you the world, and I will give it to you."

He was too young, even at five years of age, to understand the lengths she had gone and would go to secure his future. She'd bided her time as a hostage ward in Daijal growing up, bowed to the pressure to marry a man she'd never loved in exchange for a chance to eradicate the Iverson bloodline and take their throne. Lisandro would carry on her bloodline, ever a Rourke, and she'd pave his road as best she could. Which meant leaving him behind in the safety of that suite of rooms and returning to the fight above, where Kote met her, grim-faced and determined, in the hall.

"What is it?" Eimarille asked.

"Amari is burning."

Eimarille froze, some long-since-buried fear coming alive once more to grip at her. For a moment, she could smell smoke, could feel the ash that choked the air coating her skin. But it was all just a memory of that long-ago, frantic night when Innes had orchestrated her escape from the old palace and taken her west under the watchful, covetous eye of Daijal's ambassador at the time.

Innes, who had been silent in the face of her prayers the past few days.

"Show me."

Kote led her down the hallway and then another, taking her to a room that overlooked the forecourt of the palace. The tall windows let in weak afternoon sunlight, the balcony doors locked tight. Eimarille undid the lock and stepped outside, ignoring Kote's protest. The air was on the chillier side, the breeze carrying with it the scent of gunpowder. Airships dotted the sky above the city, plumes of smoke rising in their wake throughout the city from bomb drops.

Eimarille breathed in the smell of smoke, the glow of fire eating through buildings in the city's civic center, creeping ever closer. "Tell the Klovod to meet us at the starfire throne."

"I'll ready your escort," Kote said.

It was time she faced the North Star's decree. Eimarille had carried the Rourke bloodline since the day she was born, her name written in the royal genealogies. Aaralyn might favor another's road, but Eimarille's was still just as valid. She was Rourke, and she would put out that ever-burning starfire to take the throne.

It was what Innes had promised her, after all.

It was everything that was owed to her.