Mere minutes later, they all disassembled. Ripred went to find out what was happening and let Teslas, Ares, and his dad take Gregor back to the code room. Nerissa went another way, saying something about duties, and Nike declared she'd return to help at the front. Howard headed straight for the hospital.

On the way to the code room, Gregor inevitably explained to his dad what the Regalians thought about the prophecy and that he had decided he'd do his best to help. Although he took care to emphasize that he wasn't letting it control him. He thought Henry would be proud of him when he said, "They think they have to make these things happen, but if they're real prophecies, they'll come true anyway, right?"

"I was thinking this. Why worry about it at all?" Then his dad paused, giving him a somber smile. "I'd love to tell you to forget everything and stop putting yourself at risk, but you want to do that, don't you? You want to fight?"

Gregor nodded silently, and his dad made a face. "Just don't do anything you don't want to do," he heeded Gregor. "And . . . be careful out there. I know I don't have to tell you that. You're a good kid. But still."

Gregor stopped in the middle of the hallway and stared at his dad wide-eyed, then he hugged him tightly. He felt the immeasurable trust and sincerity that he was offering him, and suddenly he wanted even more to find a way to survive the prophecy, just so that he didn't have to make him regret his choice.

His dad had disappeared a month before Gregor's tenth birthday, and since he had found him again, he'd been sick almost constantly. Suddenly, Gregor considered that they had missed out on so many milestones of his preteen and early teenage life. To his dad, it had to be devastating to see him and know that he wasn't the little boy he'd been back then anymore. But maybe it also made it easier to trust him, knowing that he'd survived and handled himself on his own—even in the Underland.

In the end, he'd only said, "I love you, Dad," and his dad had said it back.

Back in the code room, all that had been forgotten anyway because they'd found Lizzie on the verge of a panic attack. Their dad had rushed over to console her, and they'd narrowly prevented the attack. At first, Gregor thought he could block out the eerie scratching, yet half an hour later, he was thinking he might have a panic attack himself if things continued in this manner. The sound reminded him too much of back when Ripred had ordered the normal-sized rats to drive them out of their New York apartment.

Shortly after, Ares explained that this was the point. "It is a technique the gnawers use to instill fear," he said. "Yet have no worry. They cannot scratch their way into the palace."

It had only made Gregor feel a little better. He eventually sat by a wall and attempted to distract himself by listening to the ongoing conversations, yet the scratching was slowly but surely driving him mad.

Some ten minutes later, Ripred finally stood in the doorway. "The gnawers are in the city." He heaved as if he had just run a marathon, and Gregor froze to solid ice. Of course . . . if they heard their sounds here, they had to have reached the palace.

"They say they've gotten their claws on some explosives and blown a hole into the wall." Ripred shook his head. "That "gotten their claws on" is nonsense, if you ask me." His gaze was loaded with a dreadful meaning, and Gregor shivered at the thought that someone might have . . . given it to them. "They're conducting some great evacuation." Ripred sat down beside Gregor's dad with Lizzie. "The citizens will be granted shelter in the palace, I hear."

Ares' wings fluttered. "They might need my help then." He looked back at Gregor, who just nodded.

"Go. We'll be fine."

The bat was out of the room in seconds.

Gregor's dad left Lizzie with Hazard and Teslas and moved toward Gregor. "Did he imply that Solovet gave them explosives?" he asked Gregor. "I thought he said that she is on our side."

"She might have to make concessions to keep her cover," said Ripred, overhearing him. "Perhaps she thought it was an insignificant sacrifice since the palace remains impenetrable."

Gregor thought about all the people in Regalia who were currently losing their homes, and also their lives if they couldn't be evacuated fast enough. "She really doesn't care about how many of us she has to sacrifice," he said quietly. "All she cares about is that end goal. Like that's somehow a justification."

"One more reason to be vigilant of her," said Ripred.

"If you can watch Lizzie, I'm going to be with Grace and Boots in the hospital," announced Gregor's dad, getting to his feet. "They have to be paralyzed with fear."

"You better stay there too," said Ripred. "It's probably safer. Don't worry about Lizzie. We have her."

Gregor's dad gave him and Ripred one final nod, then walked over to hug Lizzie. Then he was out of the room, and the only remaining conversation was the one that resumed between Lizzie and Hazard.

"Does each letter stand for another letter?" Hazard asked her, and Gregor shifted his attention back to them, trying once again to distract himself from the obnoxious scratching . . . Also from the fact that the rats had reached Regalia and were killing people out there this instant, all because their own commander had deemed their lives less important than proving her "loyalty" to her fake ally. And there was nothing Gregor could do about it.

Teslas and Ripred now flanked Hazard and Lizzie on each side, and the rest of the code team inched closer to form a circle around them.

"Yes, but there's some extra trick on top of that. Like maybe you're supposed to throw out every third letter or something, and then it will make sense," Lizzie replied, staring at the scroll intensely.

Gregor sighed and stood up, unsure where he was even going. A wave of discomfort with how useless he truly was in here hit him, and he began pacing. Why was he even here? He wasn't a code cracker like the code team and Lizzie or an innovative, out-of-the-box thinker like his dad, Ripred, or Teslas. He was a . . . Gregor frowned and stopped in his tracks. What even was he? A warrior.

He bit his lip at the thought of how much he had always protested against the name. Ironically, it seemed to be the only thing he was actually good at down here. At least once the war was over, he'd have to find something else.

"Gregor, what's the matter?" Teslas beckoned him toward their circle as well.

"Hey, maybe I should go to the hospital and my mom as well," he suggested. "I've not seen her since the battle."

"I hear from your father that she's doing well," Teslas replied. "Even that she's allowed out of bed now. Well, when the palace isn't on lockdown, of course," he smiled. "He mentioned that she's been getting along really well with—"

He was cut off by Lizzie's excited cry: "An anagram—of Gregor's name!"

They both turned to her, and Gregor opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but then Reflex the spider recited in a quivering voice: "In the naming is the catching . . ."

"Maybe . . . that line wasn't about my name at all!" Lizzie dropped her marker and snatched up the piece of code. Gregor frowned and took a step toward her, yet she ignored him as she read, her lips moving silently over the letters.

When she looked up, her next words were barely audible. "Gre-gor. Gor-ger. I think . . . I know how to break the code!"

***

Click.

Gregor could barely keep his focus on the ceiling as he sleepily clicked his tongue. He was exhausted beyond belief, but sleep wouldn't come to him. He had managed to get a few hours in after spending what must have been the rest of the day decoding endless scrolls of old code.

At least the rats had ceased scratching, shortly after Lizzie had cracked the code. Like they had somehow felt it. Gregor shook his head, making a face. Far more likely they just needed to sleep too.

She'd done it, Gregor thought and smiled proudly again. Although—all the while the code team had celebrated, while Ripred had carried Lizzie around on his back, while Gregor himself had spun her in a circle, praising her—he'd also realized that he'd barely been there for the whole code-breaking process. It almost felt like yesterday that she'd first entered this room, and now she had already succeeded. Gregor blew out another breath. He'd had so many other things to do and worry about that it had prevented him from being a genuine part of Lizzie's journey to the title of Codebreaker.

She'd succeeded anyway . . . Gregor allowed the powerful mix between pride and melancholy to flood him once again. She hadn't actually needed him to succeed. It was jarring and comforting at the same time, somehow.

Less than half an hour later, Nerissa had come to visit, bringing food and news about how the evacuation was going. The palace was overflowing with refugees from the city, and the hospital was getting fuller with the day, but a majority of people had been evacuated successfully. Nerissa said that they would move some of the refugees to the Fount soon, whenever they could travel safely.

They had done without an official coronation this time, due to the general state of emergency, and Gregor knew she hated being queen again, yet he couldn't help but think she was doing a great job. She'd had to go back soon, though, as with her new duties.

Once she'd gone again, Ripred had enlisted him, Lizzie, Hazard, Temp, and Teslas to decode whatever they could find in the hope of finding something useful, yet it had mostly been mundane junk.

At some point, his dad had returned and sent Gregor and Lizzie to bed, claiming he'd take over for them. Gregor hadn't protested; despite not being injured, he still felt banged up and sore from yesterday's battle.

His dad had also confirmed that his mom was doing well, although the scratching and the evacuation had unnerved her. Once the hospital had started to become too crowded, Boots had been brought back to the nursery that harbored Dulcet, Cartesian, and the baby mice, where she was better cared for and entertained.

"They all miss you. And your mother tells you to come visit yourself soon, or she'll break every existing rule to come here herself and drag you there," his dad had said and ruffled his hair. And Gregor had nodded, despite not knowing if he'd have the chance.

Maybe half an hour had gone by since he'd retreated to bed, and despite his exhaustion, he failed to calm his thoughts. Lizzie had broken the code. Since the princess is the key / To unlock the treachery / She cannot avoid the matching / Or the scratching, scratching, scratching. Gregor moved his lips to form the words he had by now memorized. When a secret plot is hatching / In the naming is the catching / What she saw it is the flaw / Of the code of claw.

Who would have thought that his name, of all things, would be the key to the code? Actually, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Why had they used Gorger's name as the key and not . . . the Bane's? Or at least someone who hadn't been dead for two years?

Acknowledging that the prophecy had caught up to this point, Gregor shuddered. "When a secret plot is hatching" definitely referred to Solovet—or their own plot to stop her—and Lizzie had just seen the flaw in the code of claw. The next part was . . . When the monster's blood is spilled. He swallowed. When the warrior has been killed.

Irritated, Gregor rose from his sheets. He'd neglected to ask Nerissa if she'd intentionally changed that line for his family in the manner that she had, and suddenly he felt very conflicted. He clicked his tongue so as not to run into anything and crept out of the human bedchamber, past his sleeping dad and Lizzie, into the dark code room. Was it time now? Now that they had discovered the secret plot, now that the code had been broken, was it time for him to have his final battle with the Bane? For him to . . . die?

If they looked at the prophecy chronologically, he couldn't have spilled the monster's blood yet.

Gregor pressed his lips together and attempted to evoke the determination to live that he had felt when he had thrown away the sword. No one seemed to have noticed it was missing yet, and Gregor hoped no one ever would. But for as hopeful and resolved as he'd been to spite the despicable words, he could suddenly no longer feel anything other than terror.

Telling himself that he would live was one thing, but what if he . . . didn't? What if Sandwich, no matter how evil he might have been, had actually seen his death, and that's why he'd worded it so unmistakably? What if Gregor went into the next battle, telling his dad and Lizzie that he'd be fulfilling his role and coming home afterward, only to never come home at all?

Gregor leaned against the wall, panting. For one more moment he fought, then he felt all the intrusive thoughts he'd blocked out so far break down the dike he had erected around his mind and flood him: There were images of his parents and of his sisters, whom the Regalians would have to inform of his death.

I am afraid he will not come back. The warrior has fallen by slaying the Bane, as the prophecy foretold.

Gregor valiantly fought the panic that swept over him. He shook his head, yet only when he pressed his forehead to the cold stone did he feel his churning thoughts calm a little. He inhaled deeply, then slowly sank to the floor, doing his best to breathe steadily. His thoughts wandered back to New York, to his . . . home? Was it his home? Gregor clicked his tongue again and took in the room. It had been for such a long time, yet . . .

If I really die here, he thought, maybe I should . . . make a list. He remembered a day when he had been around six; he had overheard a conversation between his dad and his grandmother. She had wanted him to take her to see a Broadway musical. He had argued the tickets were far too expensive, yet she had insisted it was something from her . . . list.

It's called a bucket list, she had explained later. A list of things you make to do or see before you die. Then she had patted his head, saying he could take his time making one as his death was decades away. Well . . . Gregor inhaled unsteadily. Maybe not anymore.

He didn't want to die. The thought swallowed him, and he felt tears rising in his eyes; he didn't even attempt to combat them. But he might. He might have to, no matter how resolved he was to live. Why might he have to die?

. . . To kill the Bane.

Gregor tried to revoke the resolve he had felt when he had decided that killing a monster like the Bane was worth dying for. But at that moment, all he felt was despair.

It wasn't fair. He swallowed repeatedly. It wasn't . . . None of it was fair, Gregor thought. The mice dying in that pit wasn't fair. Luxa's having to run and hide from her own grandmother's blind hunger for retribution and power wasn't fair. Henry's being forever condemned to being an outcast wasn't fair. He could barely list all the unfairness that he knew about. What was his own prophesied death on that never-ending list? Just another entry.

The thought was oddly sobering. Gregor sniffed, clutching the fabric of his pants. He might die, and it wouldn't be fair or just. At least . . . he looked up. At least his family wouldn't be shunned or left in the rain. The Regalians would protect them, and harbor them for as long as they needed . . . if his friends could deal with Solovet before she could get her hands on any of them, at least.

Gregor thought about Luxa and Nerissa, the once and future queens. He thought about Ripred and Henry, the two most invincible individuals he knew. He thought about his dad, who now knew the depth of Solovet's corruption and might do his part in protecting his family from her. And he just had to believe that they'd win.

As for Gregor . . . the thought that tormented him more than any other was that he could do nothing. Nothing besides doing his best in trying to kill the Bane and come out of it alive, even if he couldn't be sure whether he would. Well, that, and . . . the bucket list. If he was ever making one, now was the time.

His hand cupped the spot where he expected the pocket of his pants to be, yet his Underland garments had no inbuilt pockets; he'd left the belts that he wore sometimes to carry flashlights and other trinkets on his person in his room.

Gregor hesitated, then made a face when he acknowledged the darkness. He clicked his tongue and located the oil lamp that had previously illuminated the room, then got to his feet, walking toward it. Maybe there would be a pencil around here somewhere too. After all, who knew if he'd be sent into battle again tomorrow? Who knew if he'd ever find another quiet moment? He could not afford to put this off for any reason.

He used his echolocation to locate and light the lamp. In its flickering light, he found a stash of code scrolls scattered on the floor and randomly picked one up. Maybe he could use the back. Then he inspected the scroll closer and realized they hadn't even decoded this one yet.

Might as well see what it says before I scribble all over something important, Gregor thought, picking up a pencil someone had dropped in a corner. He sat by the lantern and quickly noted down the text in letters before applying Lizzie's system: UXJUDIUJQ. ETDBQEF. QJU.

Gregor's heart skipped a beat, and the scroll nearly slipped from his hand. He just about prevented a hysteric fit of laughter.

"Something funny?"

Gregor jumped when he suddenly heard Ripred's voice from the archway to the room where he had slept. "Oh, I . . ." He held the scroll up. "They found out Twitchtip escaped. That's what it says."

"Of course they have." Ripred drew closer. "Anything useful in there as well? Like . . ." He moved closer and sat down next to Gregor. "Solovet's name, perhaps?"

"That would be . . . proof," mumbled Gregor.

"Indisputable proof." Ripred picked up a scroll for himself before lowering it again. "So, have I truly heard you click your tongue earlier?"

Gregor shrugged with deliberate nonchalance. "Yeah. I figured out the echolocation a while ago."

"And you didn't even tell me?" exclaimed Ripred.

"What's it to you?" retorted Gregor. "It's not like you're my teacher anymore."

Ripred broke into suppressed laughter. "Oh, no—are you actually sassing me? Seems like the lad's really had a bad influence on you."

"He told me to not let you bully me." Gregor shrugged, looking back at the scroll he was holding. "And so I promised. Hey, by the way, why didn't you invite Vikus to your little meeting earlier? He should know that Luxa is alive. Or Mareth? We can trust both of them."

"But can we?" asked Ripred. "One of them is under Solovet's direct command, and the other is married to her. We can't afford to let them in on her treason just yet."

Gregor gritted his teeth, thinking he could see why Ripred didn't want to try to explain Solovet's treason to Vikus yet. He didn't even want to imagine having to be the one to tell him.

"I think Mareth would help us," he mumbled after a while. "I really don't think he'd condone any inhumane tactics, or killing all the rats."

"Maybe," Ripred conceded. "If we ever need his help or that of the army, we'll tell him first. But it's safer not to risk it yet. If Solovet begins suspecting that we suspect her, who would be the first one she'd ask about that? What do you think?"

Gregor sighed. He wagered she and most people knew how close he and Mareth were.

"That aside . . . if neither of us can sleep and you're so opposed to my echolocation lessons, how about we get some of this work done instead?" Ripred used his tail to flick some newer scrolls toward Gregor, who nodded, reluctantly dropping the one with the note about Twitchtip. Anything was better than an echolocation lesson with Ripred.

As they worked in silence, Gregor couldn't help but wonder why the typically lazy rat wasn't in bed. He could hardly be kept up by pain, could he? His injury had been treated, though it still looked vicious.

Then, for the first time, Gregor asked himself how he had even received it. Who ever even came so close to Ripred that they could scratch him? But, in the end, he didn't disrupt the quiet to ask. That answer seemed insignificant compared to the work they were doing with the code.

After roughly ten minutes of focused work, both of them could finally decipher the chicken scratch and the encryption on sight. Gregor was so engrossed that it took him a while to notice that Ripred had lowered the scroll he had been studying to look at him.

As Ripred passed it to him silently, Gregor's eyes widened. "When—signal—comes—launch—attack." He looked up as about a hundred alarms went off in his head. "We need to . . . Wait, what signal?"

Ripred snatched the scroll back. "One from Solovet, I wager. The important part is, it says that the attack is to be launched from the river. And as luck—or a certain commander—would have it, we have no defense there."

"She would do that?!" exclaimed Gregor. "I thought you said—"

"I know what I said," hissed Ripred. "But I cannot read her mind. I have no inkling what she and Twirltongue agreed upon. Maybe she aims to lure the Bane out by exposing a weakness. Maybe to bring Regalia's forces to the cusp of losing so that they might be more open to her morally questionable means of warfare. I have no clue."

All Gregor did in response was nod. There was no point in sitting around, speculating.

As if Ripred had read his mind, he sprung to his feet, letting out a long howl, unlike anything Gregor had ever heard from him. Within minutes, the code team was all up and on their feet, and Ripred and Gregor disclosed what they had discovered.

"This scroll is only half a day old," Ripred informed them as he paced restlessly. "So it is not too late yet. I will tell Nerissa and the council, and you all—" He glanced around. "You will have to split up. If the gnawers should enter the palace, we can't have you all sitting in one bunch. I want this team disassembled in the next hour."

When he mentioned that the rats might enter the palace, Gregor's stomach sagged. Perhaps luckily, Ripred didn't leave him enough time for anxiety. He took charge, ordering Lizzie, Hazard, their dad, and Daedalus to remain here and shred every piece of evidence that they had broken the code. Then he directed Min, Reflex, and Teslas into the war room.

Yet before he could continue, Teslas interrupted him: "I will seek out the council first, if you don't mind." He exchanged a glance with Gregor's dad. "The code is broken now, and if I remember correctly, Blake, Gregor, Lizzie, and you too claimed that my skills could aid the soldiers. I've got something in mind already. Just have to ask where to set up a workshop."

Ripred eyed him, then nodded. "Very well." His gaze wandered to meet Gregor's dad. "What about you? I'm sure you've got skills to aid us too."

Gregor felt his dad's hand on his shoulder. "I will . . . after this attack." He glanced at Lizzie. "I cannot leave her alone now."

Ripred acknowledged his decision with a nod, and they watched Teslas leave first, closely followed by Min and Reflex. Finally, he ordered Gregor into the prophecy room. "I'll send someone with a key," he pondered. "Lock yourselves in and don't open it until you're told to."

Gregor made a face. "Shouldn't I get ready for battle instead?"

"This is no time for you to be risking your life," said Ripred. "For all we know, this attack is staged or a distraction. You cannot rush into it mindlessly. You . . ." He came to a halt in front of Gregor. "Prophecy or not, are you willing to fight the Bane for us, boy?" he asked, almost solemnly.

For one moment, Gregor hesitated. Then he nodded. "I'll fight him. If I can get some help . . ."

"Any help we have," said Ripred, smiling almost proudly. Then his expression darkened. "In that case, you must prepare to face the Bane as soon as the opportunity presents itself. And that means you can't risk getting injured now. We can't conjure up another warrior from the air."

Gregor clenched his fist, realizing that left him to once again do nothing but sit idle while all his friends were fighting. Well . . . he blew out a frustrated breath. Maybe he would at least get to make that bucket list now.

"If the Bane shows up, I'll fetch you," said Ripred, patting his back so hard that Gregor almost stumbled out of the exit. "But honestly, I doubt that. You took good care of his tail last time. We'll see how he manages. Whether the spinners will help him. If I remember correctly, you all didn't include them on your ally-gather trip, did you?"

Gregor shook his head. They had indeed neglected the spiders . . . and he shuddered at the thought of that coming back to bite them now.

"What about my mom and Boots?" he asked before Ripred could usher him out of the code room.

"We'll move Boots and the nibbler pups to the hospital. It can be sealed," assured Ripred, then he gave Temp a nod. "The crawler may accompany them. Don't worry, just go! This isn't your battle. Let us fight for you so that you can fight for us later. I've got it handled! Although . . ." He threw Gregor a suspicious glance. "Where's that sword of yours, actually? Better go get it and bring it along, just in case."

"Yeah, yeah!" Gregor waved dismissively, hasting along the hallway before Ripred could ask for more details. This was definitely not the time to come clean about what he had done with it.

Plagued by his anxiety, he made a quick stop at an armory to pick up a sword before continuing on to the prophecy room. When he arrived there, he found waiting for him Nerissa with a lamp and a key, as well as a young woman in the attire of a servant with a stack of blankets and pillows, some food, and several canisters of water.

Gregor had already opened his mouth to ask why Nerissa was here when he looked closer, and his eyes widened as he recognized the other woman. "You!"

"Yes, I," Dalia said with a smile while Nerissa unlocked the door.

"You've met, haven't you?" Nerissa asked. "She followed the children of York and Susannah when they were ordered to Regalia some week ago. Their parents are in battle, and they've deemed Regalia safer than their home."

Gregor nearly tripped over the doorframe when he attempted to follow Nerissa inside while also keeping his eyes on Dalia. "I . . . it's good to see you!"

She smiled again. "You too, Overlander."

"Hey, how have you been doing?" He helped her haul the stuff she had brought into the room, and when he caught his first good glimpse at her, his smile widened. "You look great!"

He vividly remembered the bony girl with the nigh-translucent skin and the rings around her large, violet eyes and stared in disbelief at the woman who shared the features, but nothing else. She had gained weight, and the rings around her eyes had disappeared. She looks like she smiles a lot now, Gregor thought and inadvertently smiled again.

"Thank you." Dalia set down the stash in a corner and turned to watch Nerissa lock the door. "I've been doing quite well."

"I can see that—hey, are you staying with us?"

Dalia rummaged through the goods before handing out pillows and blankets. "So I've been ordered. Chim, Hero, Kent, and Stellovet are at the hospital with Howard."

"Well," Gregor said, sitting down cross-legged and tossing the sword he'd brought into a corner. "At least I'll be having nice company in here, then."