Page 49

Amphirans are suffering because my father is letting it happen. I see it now on his face. He was fooled by the Talhuskin’s cloak. But it has not deterred his hatred for Genesis or his desire to torture anyone who betrays New Order.

More Denarsoans pour in through another portal that a Royal has opened on a Denarsoan ship.

“Is this really what you wanted?” I ask my father. “To kill your own people?”

He glares at me. “You believe in the natural order of life. Natural selection means the strongest survive. The strongest are my people. You get to keep whoever is left.”

I want to destroy all the kings and Elders and delegates, all who accept the deaths of their own kind simply because they have different beliefs about instincts and love. My Storm stutters, trying to ignite me and burn, but I am under triple arrest. Such a task is impossible.

Come on, Storm. They hurt Jovie! Why won’t you wake up?

I know it’s futile. But I’m livid that the kings would bring death and destruction here.

“I will not…” Eluni peels a king’s hand off of her throat and spins around, back-kicking him in the chest. “Let any of you Royal asses take another Lightbringer’s life, ever again!”

She punches a ball of electric fury into his core inside his shield, knocking him back and to the ground with a smoking hole in his center.

A Royal guard tackles her to the floor, and they become a tornado of fireworks and Arkus shield bursts.

Blaize is in a wrestling match with a different Rogue. Fieri slashes his way through Denarso, freeing females, while Jorusk continues his battle for dominance with the Talhuskin.

And I’m lying here like a worthless slug.

I’m jailed in an arrestor ring, in an arrestor net, with ship dampeners on. It’s an impossible set of shackles to break for any Royal.

But I don’t want to accept my fate. Pronkus and all the others who ever hurt our people or tried to keep us from listening to our Storms deserve to suffer.

Especially Pronkus.

And I’m not an average Royal.

I fight inside the restraints as gunfire slices up the air from all directions.

Amphirans are down, some shot, some bleeding out from Denarsoan teeth.

Denarsoans lie interspersed among them, holes in their chests.

But so many more flood in through the portal that I know Genesis on Gravion is going to be annihilated if I don’t do something.

Portals open all over the plaza, dumping in Rogues and Royals, New Order members, and green-striped Genesis. I am happy to see some Royal portal-wielders have chosen our side.

Vybron comes through with his team, sees us, and starts in our direction. He slows when he notices how many Amphiran Genesis refugees are down.

“Dampeners!” I shout.

Pronkus punches me in the face, knocking me sideways as the plaza lights up with gunfire and savagery.

The forces collide like colorful rivers, and I have to close my eyes just to process it all through the wave of hot pressure building in my skull.

My kingdom, the one I was destined for, is in shreds.

Amphirans that didn’t need to die have. Denarsoan soldiers have died because they were led into our ship under false pretenses, and we defended ourselves from an internal threat and a circle of treachery.

And the one thing that makes it worthwhile has been taken from me.

I wish Pronkus’ hit would’ve knocked some sense into my Storm. “Stars, you’re a pissy thing. Did your mama not love you as a child?”

He hits me again. My muscles bulge from my frustration. A cable snaps.

Warping blasts light up Pronkus’s Arkus shield, throwing him back. A metal ball rolls through the crowd, spouts legs and a gun, fires, and turns into a ball again, rolling away. All I catch is RAM-4 on the side. Talros isn’t far, sniping Denarso from behind a pillar.

I look down at my arresting net. I still have a tool that arrestors can’t take from me.

I tense my whole body and push outward. Thinking of Jovie being hurt when she’s not even involved in this war, not really, gives me motivation. And slowly, the arrestor pulls apart.

Cables snap. Arrestors dim and blink. And finally, they switch off. But I am still magnetized to the ring in the floor.

Rolling myself over is a fight, but I get myself onto my stomach and push my body up with everything I have. The core of the arrestor pad spins with Storm light. I brace myself, knot a hand into a fist, eye the arrestor’s core, and punch the glass.

“What are you doing?” my father growls.

I punch it again and again, venting my built-up rage. A fracture shoots through the panel.

A bolt slams into my Arkus shield. I glare back at my father. “You do not deserve to be king.”

I rear my fist up again and put everything I have into the punch.

The unit crunches and fizzles. The arrestor dies. The invisible force weighing me down vanishes.

I get to my feet, turn around, and face the kings, Elders, and delegates who remain protected in their corner of the plaza by New Order Royal guards. When I step out of the circle, it earns me the attention of many. They shield up, and I soak in their fear for a moment as my Storm surges.

“ You don’t deserve to be called Amphiran!” I let go of my training and allow the natural fury of my Storm to guide me. Kings stumble back from the arcs my body throws.

Guards launch defensive flares. Shields hold, knock together, burst, and reignite. I don’t care if I live or die, but I want them to feel my pain, my wrath, and know never to mess with Genesis again.

Commoners and Rogues scamper away. A Denarso gets in the way and vaporizes.

This is a new skill.

I throw another high-voltage surge and take out seven Royals.

Someone tackles me from behind. I stagger a step from their weight, reach over my back, and fling them off of me.

Pronkus crashes into me. He is the only male of those close by who has the weight to go toe-to-toe with me. We tumble into a flurry of electric fists. But he does not know my kind of rage. He has not had anything truly worth fighting for if his people mean so little to him.

I leverage myself free of him and pick him up by his tactical harness, arcing wildly as I fling him into the crowd of Royals. His body flattens many.

And suddenly, the mass of people isn’t as divided. Kings are hiding from Denarso behind their guards. Delegates and Elders are at war with Rogues.

“I’m so tired of you!” A bolt slams into my shield. “Why won’t you just die ?”

I turn toward my father and return his gesture. But I’m at a disadvantage, surrounded by so many Royals while shield dampeners are active. They start to team up, and their combined pressure and heat take me to my knees. But I am not letting them take me down this time.

Someone calls my name. I think it’s Fieri.

I squint through the coalescing light of the New Order Royals and see him on the ground under a Denarso.

He fires a gun and finds it empty. Eluni gets kicked in the back by another enemy soldier, shouting something about closing their portal. I can’t see the others.

Soon, the crackling is too loud for me to handle. I hang my head and just try to endure the Royal barrage as it closes in. My Storm sputters and threatens to give out from the heat, but I hold my ground. I will until I have nothing left.

Let them tax themselves. It will give Genesis time.

For what I don’t know. I know only that my Storm wants me right here, draining the Royals. Maybe it’s because I can take it.

Slowly, Royal guards, Elders, kings, and delegates pull back. Arcs die down. The light of their Storms disappears.

Someone speaks in the distance through the humming still in my head. “What is that?”

My body steams as cold air wraps around me again, and the Royals turn their attention to another priority.

The figure in white armor walks calmly into the chaotic battle, arcs flying off of her body like wild, untamed fury. I squint at the being, wondering if it’s Eluni.

Brown hair, not Amphiran black.

Soft brown skin. Not purple.

She slays Denarsoan soldiers without more than a glance, their cores burnt from their bodies. Genesis members take a knee.

An Elder dares throw a bolt, but it is stopped and thrown back by one double in size. Arcs thrash around her, killing enemies and charring holes in the ceiling and the floor.

Jovie— my Jovie—gives Lightbringer a whole new meaning as she ends the battle one purposeful step at a time.

My heart slams against my ribs, begging me to run to her, but I can’t seem to get my legs to work.

She’s alive?

“Jovie—” I sway and stagger as I get my feet under me.

With every step, she crushes Denarsoan forces. Royals of all stratums launch backward from her bolts. RAM-4 runs from her to hide in Tal’s arms behind his pillar. Kings shield themselves behind others. Even my father moves behind Pronkus and Lareux.

She has a Storm? A white Storm!

Jovie brings a wave of calmness to the ship that’s palpable. Bodies fly back and fall. She is the most gorgeous, destructive force I’ve ever borne witness to.

She slows before us and scans the kings, guards, Elders, and the others who have gathered around my father and me.

My weak body fails me on my way to her. I stumble, my armor steaming, make myself get up, and fight my way to her. “Jovie—”

My legs give out before her. Jovie looks me over, threads of green light dancing in her brown eyes. Her voice is a soothing song in my ears. “Hello, Aura.”

I sit in fragments before her until she wraps her arms around me and pulls me back together.

“You’re real.” I laugh and cry all at once. She’s okay!

She smiles. “Allele saved me.”

Jovie turns to the cluster of Royals. “I see you have your heads so far up your asses that you’ve forgotten that shit stinks.”

I choke out a laugh in disbelief.

“I had hoped for more because Aurelius is so kind, caring, and considerate,” she adds. “He is protective and loves his people above all other things.”