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“My left hand can’t have a mind of its own.”

At my command, ten black-clad Howlers file out of the Necromancer. The chameleon properties of their pulseArmor ripple to match the pale ice. Felix tilts his buzzed head.

Harnassus’s face falls. “You would use Howlers…on me?”

“That choice is yours.”

The most terrifying Golds, Obsidians, and Grays in the legions stare him down. Each one would kill him for me, or slam cuffs on his wrists and throw him in the brig. Harnassus glances at his Blacksmiths, wondering if they would do the same. He comes to the correct conclusion and lowers his voice. “If you are forced to choose between saving our army and killing theirs, I need your word you will choose us.”

“We are an expeditionary force. Our mission is to find and destroy the enemy.” I grin. “Well, we’ve found ’em. Your answer, Imperator.”

He stares at the ground, hands quivering at his sides. He lost the army as soon as I returned. I understand him well enough to know he once harbored thoughts of stepping in if I took us to the edge. Now he knows that was never an option. “Damn you,” he says and looks up. “Damn you.” Though the anger never leaves his eyes, he delivers his salute with a precision few would think his slumped body could manage. He holds it far too long for my tastes. “Hail Reaper.”

“Sir…” Rhonna says from behind. “It’s Pup One.”

In the Necromancer’s communications bay, a meter-tall hologram of Alexandar warps in and out, eroded by the jamming tech from Atalantia’s fleet. Harnassus and Orion crowd in behind me.

“Lost…Fear…in the…Ladon.”

“Does that mean Fear’s going after Eleusis?” I ask. “Did he take the bait?”

“…bait…no…from…Ang…” Harnassus crosses his arms and strains to hear Alexandar. “Distress…from…No…cation.”

“Repeat. Pup One. Repeat.”

“Did not take bait. No movement on Eleusis….received a distress call from Angelia. Communication from…Angelia…since 06…”

“Angelia…” I murmur. Angelia is a small city in the mid-eastern Ladon, one we used for civilian evacuation from the cities surrounding our killbox. It’s under the Northern Shield Chain, but not a generator nexus like Eleusis. Atlas was supposed to attack Eleusis. I left it wide open for him, practically begging to be assaulted.

Perhaps it begged too much.

Harnassus’s jaw muscles work overtime.

“The bastard knows. He guessed your plan.”

“Specious assumption,” Orion replies. “Angelia doesn’t have a generator like Eleusis. It’s under the shadow of Kydon’s.”

“Then what does he want there?” Harnassus asks. “What does it have? Darrow?”

I can’t wait for further intel. A decision must be made. But if I play my hand too soon, it all falls apart. Dammit. What went wrong? “Harnassus, you’re done here. I want you back in Heliopolis.”

“Away from the fight with the civilians and rear echelon?” he asks.

“The fight will be at Tyche. When we lose the air, we’ll need you to continue to supply us reinforcements via the gravLoop. And we need to protect the integrity of the command chain. If I fall in the desert and Orion falls with the engines, the army must have a commander.”

That’s the thing about Harnassus. Whatever our differences, when the enemy comes, he’s got my back. He snaps a salute. As he turns, he glares at Orion. I watch her as he departs. One by one, my bodyguards slide down the passage into the garage below. They know what’s coming. Here we go again. The thought fills me with exhaustion.

“I need you at BlueReach One,” I tell Orion. “Take any of the shuttles, get the rest of the pilots to their engines.” I grab her arm as she moves to the passage. “We do not raise the Storm Gods above primary horizon. Swear to me.”

“On my life.”

I bring her forehead to mine. “From Vanguard till Vale, sister.”

She smiles in remembrance of that old ship where we met. “Vanguard till Vale, brother.” She departs and takes something of me with her. You never know anymore when you will see a friend again. Or if. Of all the people I know, Orion has never said what she would do after the war. I feel a need to know now, but she’s already calling to her storm pilots and shoving them toward shuttles.

“You think she’s all there?” Rhonna says from the disembarkation plank. “If she goes Blood Red…”

“I have an insurance plan.”