Ascension banquet to bring two hundred Third Estaters into Ledôme to kill the Patriarche. And now that we know his strategy, we can stop him. We can defeat him.”
Chatine and Cerise exchanged a wary look. But Alouette somehow seemed to be following what Marcellus was saying. She was gazing up at him, her own eyes alight with something that looked like pride.
“How?” Chatine asked, still trying to keep up.
“My grandfather always says that the only way to win is to analyze your opponent and plan your attack accordingly.”
“But couldn’t we just, I don’t know, warn the Patriarche?” Chatine asked. “If he knew what the general was planning, he’d probably cancel the banquet and have the general arrested.”
“It won’t work,” said Marcellus. “We’d never be able to get close enough to the Patriarche in time to warn him, and the general has installed guardian controls on the Patriarche’s TéléCom, making it impossible to send him an AirLink without the general knowing about it. Which means we have to stop him another way.”
Marcellus turned to Chatine, his eyes as grave and unwavering as his voice. And in that moment, she suddenly understood. This tall, determined man standing before her was not the same Marcellus Bonnefaçon she’d met less than a month ago in the Vallonay Med Center morgue. That shiny-haired, goofy-smiled, inept young officer was gone. And in his place, Chatine saw what she knew his grandfather had always hoped to see.
His protégé.
A little sliver of General Bonnefaçon.
Chatine felt a shiver ripple through her. “So,” she began warily, “does that mean you have a plan?”
- PART 6 - THE PATRIARCHE
High over the boulevards, the ornate gardens, the gushing fountains, and the bustling boutiques, the Paresse Tower soared above all else. A beautiful curving crescendo of crisscrossing metal, which dazzled in the artificial Sol-light of Ledôme. It honored the ruling family with its name, and under its twinkling antenna, their supremacy was safeguarded. Protected, locked up, and secured for generations to come.
A vault in the skies.
That only a bird could reach.
—From The Chronicles of the Vangarde, Volume 13, Chapter 2
- CHAPTER 62 - CHATINE
A SHARP WIND WHIPPED OFF the icy land, causing Chatine to yank the hood of her puffy coat tighter under her chin. The Sols had risen just a few minutes ago, lighting up the blanket of clouds above and the frigid ground below. Idling nearby was Etienne’s ship, which had delivered them all the way out here, far from the camp and its hidden location. Out in the distance, somewhere beyond all this frozen nothingness, was Vallonay. Beckoning them. Waiting for them. And behind, past kilomètres of craggy rocks and sweeping bluffs, was the community that had welcomed Chatine with open arms. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. If she looked back, toward the memory of their chalets, and walkways, and the warm glowing lights of the lodge, she might lose her nerve. She might never leave.
Two worlds. One in front of her. One behind her. Both somehow hers and somehow not.
“He’s nearly here,” Cerise said. Chatine looked over to see the Second Estate girl jabbing at a TéléCom with gloved fingers. Beside her stood Marcellus and Alouette, both bundled in thick, glimmering jackets. And nearby, huddled by themselves next to the ship, were Etienne and Brigitte.
“Do you really think this plan is going to work?”
Chatine recognized Alouette’s voice, but it took a moment for her to realize she was talking to her. She glanced over to see Alouette shivering slightly in the coat she’d borrowed from Brigitte. Her hands were wrapped around a silver canister, which Chatine had been told held the last remaining vial of this miraculous inhibitor that was supposed to somehow neutralize the general’s weapon.
Chatine took a deep breath, pondering the question. Do I really think this plan is going to work? She stole a glance over at Marcellus. There was an intense flicker in his hazel eyes as he stared out at the frozen wilderness, pensive yet determined, brave yet terrified.
“I think … ,” she began haltingly, “I think it has to work.”
“There he is!” Cerise called out as a sudden gust of frigid morning wind kicked up and the purr of an engine pulled Chatine out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a cargo transporteur emerging from the frozen mist. The vehicle looked like a giant insect with its sleek black sides shimmering in the early light. It slowed to an idling hover in front of them, and then the massive