would’ve made a great reality TV show. The Sol and Empress Show.”
“The shit show,” I muttered. The way I felt right now, I would’ve gotten top billing.
_______________
Day 392 A.F.
“Drive faster!” I told Sol, all but bouncing in the truck seat. From the bridge, I’d spied Fort Arcana’s outline up on the windy bluff.
I was concerned about the lack of lights, but maybe they were conserving after the massacre. Or they’d gone dark for cover.
Being this near the fort made me feel closer to Jack. Excitement welled inside me as I ran my fingers over the ribbon in my pocket.
When Sol got his first good look at the fort, his lips thinned with disgust. “Pedazo de mierda. What is this piece-of-shit place?”
I had my hand wrapped around his neck so fast, my claws dripping. “This is a place where people dreamed of having a better life. While you were holed up in your coliseum stronghold, others were out in the Ash fighting and scrapping for everything they got.”
“I-I’m sorry, Empress.”
I released him with a glare. “You’re like the Hermit Card—you crawled into a ready-made shell. It cost you nothing.” Choking back my fury, I commanded, “Drive around that stretch of dirt.”
At the edge of the minefield, a rutted trail meandered this way and that. Tire tracks. As if from a mass retreat. “Follow those ruts. Carefully. There are mines everywhere.”
He swallowed, and drove along the trail. As the truck closed in on the fort’s outer wall, we passed chunks of some charred animal. A huge one with frizzy black fur. “Oh, my God.” Cyclops. Or half of him.
“What was that?” Sol’s eyes went wide. “A giant dog?”
I muttered, “Something like that.”
Tracks and furrows led away from the legs and tail, as if the wolf had dragged itself from its severed hindquarters. Why was his pelt riddled with bullet holes?
Who would’ve shot him?
Though a favorite of mine, he’d remained here to help Finn reunite with Lark once the Magician had healed enough to make the journey.
I reminded myself that the wolf couldn’t die. Not as long as Lark lived. Cyclops could be holed up in the neighboring rock forest, regenerating. He might even pick up my scent, and then Lark would know I’d survived.
I told Sol, “Drive up to the entrance and park.”
As we neared the gates, I replayed my memory of Jack riding through them with his chin up, his bearing proud. All the army soldiers had respected the legendary Hunter, as he’d been known. They’d made him their general. So many of those men had died.
Not permanently. Not if I can help it.
Sol had just turned off the ignition when the gates swung open, wind battering them against the wall. No one manned them. The metal groaned like a Bagman’s wail.
“Come with me,” I said, climbing from the cab. When Sol joined me on the ground, I stretched the stalks circling his wrists to bind his ankles as well.
“Is this really necessary, pequeña?”
“Really is, Sol.” As I approached the wall, I cried, “Hello! Is someone here? Please answer me!” Aric! Finn! Tess!
I half expected to find Aric waiting here for me. Would I hear his horse nickering in the stable? Had Thanatos survived the flood?
Had Aric?
Of course, he would have. So where is he?
Inside, I swept my gaze around and found a ghost town. No fires, no animals, no voices. Just the blustery winds and desolation.
This place was a shell. Fort Arcana had . . . died.
Crates of supplies had been abandoned. The fort’s inhabitants must’ve thought the Emperor would continue his path of hell straight for them.
Maybe some Azey South survivors were camped across the river? I hopped onto a plankway and ran to the tower. Sol hobbled after me, but I couldn’t wait for him.
I climbed the stairs, then peeked from the lookout, hoping to spy a campfire, any sign of life.
Nothing.
I turned back to the fort. In one corner, I saw the orange tree I’d grown for Tess. Without sun, its leaves had already begun to brown.
Beside the tree was a mound of dirt. Was that a . . . grave? Whose? A horrible idea arose—no. No. I quashed it as I raced down the stairs and lurched past Sol.
I tripped over another plankway, blundering around empty animal pens. I passed Jack’s tent and imagined I heard his deep voice saying, “Ma fille aux yeux bleus.” My blue-eyed girl.
Heart in my throat, I slowed when the mound came into sight. The ground was trampled as if someone