I never want to see him like this. Each passing second is a ruin. I’ve been shot; I’ve been stabbed; I’ve been hollowed out. This is a thousand times worse.
Silver skin is a colder color than our own, as if drained of warmth. But I’ve never seen a Silver look like he does. His lips are blue, his cheeks like glowing moonlight, every inch of him soaking or bleeding. His eyes are shut. He isn’t breathing. Tiberias looks like a corpse. He could be a corpse.
Time stretches. I live in this cursed second, trapped, doomed to watch little pieces of his life ebb away. Kilorn survived in New Town. Will I lose Tiberias in Harbor Bay?
The healer puts her palms to his chest, sweat beading on her brow.
I pray to any god who might exist. To anyone who might listen.
Then I beg.
Water sprays from his mouth as he coughs violently, his eyes flying open at the same time. I almost collapse, and only the electricons keep me standing against the sudden rush. Gasping, I put a hand to my mouth to stifle the sound, only to feel tears on both my cheeks.
The crowd of people around him surges, Anabel moving to kneel at his side. Julian is there too. They croon over their boy, smoothing his hair, bidding him to lie still as the healer continues her work.
He nods weakly, still getting his bearings.
I turn away before he sees me and realizes how much I want to stay.
Ocean Hill was a favorite of Coriane, the dead queen I never knew. It’s a favorite of her son as well.
The palace is polished white stone with blue domed roofs crowned in silver flames, still magnificent even through the trailing smoke and falling ash. We circle the plaza in front of the palace gates, usually a mess of traffic. The only activity seems to be at the neighboring Security Center, now overrun with coalition soldiers. As we pass, they rip down the red, black, and silver banners, as well as the hung images of Maven Calore. One by one, they set fire to the symbols. I watch his face burn, blue eyes locked on mine through a devouring tangle of red flame.
The streets themselves are empty, and the fountain I remember, beautiful beneath a dome of crystal, is dry. War walks the stones of Harbor Bay.
The palace gates are already open, yawning wide for Farley and me. We’ve been here before, as intruders. Fugitives. Not today.
When the transport slows, Farley is quick to clamber out, gesturing for me to follow. But I hesitate, still haunted by the events of the morning. It’s only been a few hours since I watched Tiberias almost die. I can’t get the sight out of my head.
“Mare,” she prods, her voice low. It’s enough to snap me into action.
The cerulean doors of the palace swing open on silent hinges, revealing two members of the Scarlet Guard keeping watch. Their ripped scarves are ruby bright, hopelessly out of place, and a sharp, unmistakable sign.
We have returned here as conquerors.
Ocean Hill still reeks of disuse and abandonment. I don’t think Maven ever set foot inside once he became king. Coriane’s faded golden colors hang from the walls and vaulted ceiling. It remains a tomb to a forgotten queen, empty but for her memory and perhaps even her ghost.
I see an odd reversal as I walk, noting the faces around me. A few Reds of the Scarlet Guard keep watch, their weapons openly displayed, but most seem without purpose. Recovering in the wake of battle, dozing against opulent columns or lazily exploring the many salons and chambers branching off the central gallery. It’s the Silvers who busy themselves with more menial work, probably on Anabel’s orders. They have to prepare Tiberias’s new seat, his palace, to mark him as a legitimate ruler and king. They open windows, pull the covers from furniture, even dust off sills and statues. I blink at the sight, overwhelmed. Silvers doing housework. What a concept. The Red servants must have fled, and the Reds still here certainly won’t do it for them.
I don’t recognize anyone in passing. No Julian. Not even Anabel supervising as her sworn soldiers prepare the palace. It worries me, because there’s only one other place they could be. And clearly they have to be there.
I’m almost sprinting when Evangeline catches me, springing out from around a corner. Her armor is gone, discarded for lighter underclothes. If the battle was difficult for her,