Katya had barely helped me to my feet when I felt the thunder of hooves.

  I spun to face the sound. Every nerve in my body was running at maximum and everything was threat. My mind was still reeling from finding myself so cornered by Lance. No. Not by Lance. By the power that F’ael seemed to have bestowed on him. I hadn’t even begun to really consider how that had come to pass. What I knew was that my power, vast as it was, had been crushed. I had been prey again for a few minutes and my hammering heart had not forgotten the experience.

  A dozen mounted knights appeared from around the near wall of the castle. In that instant all I could see were twelve threats barreling toward me, my suit and body still recovering from the damage inflicted by Lance. My sword flared with light and I leveled BEAM.

  Then a soft hand on my arm. Such a small hand, and yet so firm. The moment should have been terrifying for her. My power, the power of a near level 50 Griidlord, humming through me, it should have shaken her like an apocalyptic presence.

  She spoke calmly, “No. They’re friends.”

  I paused and let the sword dip down. I peered beyond the blazing blade and saw them.

  Most of all I saw the short, squat figure who rode the largest of the horses. He came galloping toward me at the lead of the formation.

  I let the fire sputter from my sword and lowered the weapon to my side. The tension eased, but didn’t escape me completely. Leona had named Cornelius as one of the conspirators who had worked against me in the Choosing. I had become aware that a tension had emerged between them. I’d seen him vote against the others. I’d seen him argue with them. Now he was here, and they were elsewhere, in this pivotal moment in the war for control of our own city.

  The horses eased up, their gallops slacking to a canter and then a trot.

  I stared at Cornelius as his horse slowed and came to a stop some twenty feet away from me.

  He shifted in his saddle, watching me. A moment passed between us. Maybe he could sense the accusation in my stare. Maybe he was simply guilty for being part of something that had gone too far. When he found his voice it betrayed nothing of the nervousness I could clearly see in him.

  “Lord Bloodsword! Thank the Oracle! You are a sight for sore eyes.”

  I heard my voice, “And you, Cornelius. It’s good to see that not all the good men of Boston have turned against her.”

  He faltered, but then, “Not this good man! Not an Oakcrest! It’s a vile thing they’ve done today.”

  I said, “It seems they’ve done everything but secure total victory.”

  His bushy eyebrows surged upward on his brow. “Not so! Not so, Lord Bloodsword! It’s true they control the city, and they have a mighty host of arms. But there are more good men unaligned than set on any course.”

  I said, “The Darkwaters, Farseers, and Ironveils, along with your house, control the majority of the military might of the city.”

  He said, “That’s not untrue, but the Oakcrests stand against them. And there are dozens of houses yet unaligned. Don’t forget, Lord Bloodsword, there are the regulars.”

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  I said, “They mostly hail from the major houses.”

  He shook his pudgy head. “Not so! Many are common folk. Many are from houses that can’t support second or third sons. And they all have a common allegiance!”

  I said, “Boston.”

  He shook his head. “Oh no. No no no. Both sides in this madness claim to be Boston. The traitors and the loyalists. No. The regulars fought in the field during the Falling. They fought against Buffalo before we slaved the Tower. They all hold loyalty to another!”

  I dipped my head in confusion.

  His grin was so broad and complete in its childishness. “You!”

  “What?”

  Cornelius leaned forward in his saddle. “You were there in the Falling, leading them to victories! It was you who fell on the Tower of Buffalo from the Eagle to save them and their city from the Green Men. You are the People’s Champion, the Blood Butcher! Blood Prince and Doom Slayer! I’ve been riding hence and forth proclaiming that we ride for the banner of House Bloodsword, but I dared not believe you might actually be able to stand with us! I’ve heard the Griidlords are all captured in the city. I assumed you to be among them!”

  I said, “I very nearly was.”

  That caused him to blink a few times. Then, “Well thank the Oracle you weren’t!”

  When I next spoke I could feel cold dread settle on me. I hadn’t surrendered myself to this outcome, but the monumental nature of the enemy made me pause. I had rocketed to heights I hadn’t imagined possible. I was standing on the doorstep of level 50. And Lance had handled me easily. He’d toyed with me and defeated me. I wavered on the precipice of true godhood. In a single year I had gone from the underdog in the Choosing to one of the most powerful Griidlords alive. Even thinking those numbers made my head spin. And yet I stood here, with this hopeful lord, alone without my team, against an alliance of the most powerful houses in the city and a warrior cloaked in the armor of a demonic deity.

  My words sounded hopeless. “You don’t know what we face in this.”

  Silence buffeted me. I regretted the words. The truth was that I would fight on. I would fight until victory or destruction. Why? Maybe it was because I had no other path. My pod and my future rested in the Tower, and if I really wanted to live for centuries in the suit, then the only path to that was to fight and win. Maybe it was the very real passion I felt for my city and my people. I had started a journey with Balthazar and Dirk and the Blood. I wanted to see that journey to its end. Lance and the traitors stood between me and access to the conclusion of that voyage.

  But the truth was simpler. They had my friends. They had Alya and Magneblade. They held Balthazar, and for all the mixed feelings I had about him, he had been an ally since the beginning. Far greater, they held Olaf and Racquel. Olaf was the truest and only friend I had made in this mortal world. He was the rock, the virtue. He was an aspiration I reached to be like.

  And Racquel? She had become my rock when the world shook. She had become my refuge when the winds of the storm threatened to sweep me away.

  The only future envisionable for them was execution. If I had only a hundredth of a hundredth of a shot at freeing them then I would take it, even if the alternative was my destruction. As I saw it, there were dozens of paths opening before me, twisting away into the darkness. Only one of them ended in a future I could exist in.

  Katya’s voice was the one that broke the silence. “You killed Danefer Ma’at Ra.”

  Cornelius’s eyes widened and suddenly burned with passion. “You slaved the Tower. You did that AFTER they slaved us!”

  Katya added, “You’re the Doom Slayer!”

  Cornelius’s voice rose. He was a man who delighted in stories of war. It shouldn’t have surprised me that my exploits might excite him so. “You rebuilt Dodge! Lord Bloodsword, you won Locked Orbs in your first year! You’ve killed Griidlords by the dozen!”

  I spoke flatly. “I’ve won one Locked Orb. And I haven’t killed a dozen Griidlords.”

  Katya said, “Yet.”

  The flatness of the way she said it made me pause, and then made me smile. I heard myself laugh as I looked at her. She was an electric angel. She was something from outside our world. She was light and energy and weird mad inspiration. She returned my gaze and her sternness cracked into that wild aloof smile I knew and loved.

  I’d thought myself in love with her once. I didn’t think that to be the case anymore. But I recognized a friend, an ally. I heard myself laughing in response. The laughter was manic and hopeful.

  Then I heard myself again, as if from afar. “Alright. Not yet.”

  She said, “Then let’s do this next part so we can get there.”