"Wait, wait . . . I leave you alone for like, two hours, and you mean to tell me that you, in that time, went from nameless outcast to Lord Commander of the Regalian army?"

"I don't know how that happened either, okay?!" Henry groaned at Thanatos and picked at the metal bracer that Miravet had chosen for him. "I just . . . one moment I was speaking, the next they all suddenly wanted me to lead them . . ."

"And you're not getting yourself out of this one easily either!" He barely dodged as Luxa suddenly leaped at him from behind.

"YOU!" He glared at her. "This was all your doing!"

"You're welcome!" she chirped and despite his frustration, Henry laughed along with her.

"She did the right thing." Henry turned again as Miravet approached, thoughtfully holding up a pair of gorgets. "This one." She made her choice and held out the darker one. "It will compliment your attire without obstructing your movement. Had I more time, I would make something to improve your saddle gear, but for now we may only work with what we already have available. I still feel I must say that thing is marvelous."

"My words exactly." Teslas appeared behind her and eyed Henry, who had reluctantly strapped on the gorget. "Suits you. The armor and the title."

Henry groaned again. "Sure . . . And how am I supposed to live up to it? I cannot even lead them into this battle, for Gregor must go to the Plain of Tartarus, and someone else must go after Solovet—and I cannot simply send anyone after her! I must go myself to ensure we get every bit of information we can, and perhaps take out Twirltongue in the process. And . . . and now, if my plan fails, if a single part of it fails, they will all hold me responsible, for now I AM the one responsible. Dammit, Luxa, why did you DO this to me?!"

She merely smiled at her distraught cousin. "Because . . . you are the only one who can fill the position."

"But why not Mareth? Why not Perdita or Ruvin? They are far more—"

"Did any of them stand up on that table, advocating for reason and peace?"

"No, but they would have—"

"They would have . . . but they did not." Miravet placed a hand on his shoulder. "Most will agree with a just cause, but only a true leader will stand before a crowd to openly voice it. And, as far as improvised speeches go, I cannot remember a single one as inspiring as yours, earlier."

All Henry voiced in response was an exasperated groan.

"It is as simple as that you deserve it," Luxa patted his shoulder. "Now come on!" She tugged at his cloak. "You're all kitted out now, right? Your army awaits. We must go over the plan once more before our five hours run out and Solovet will call for departure."

Henry reluctantly picked up his backpack, preparing to follow her, and went over his entire plan in his head. He had raised his hand to count everyone he had to assign a role on his fingers when, from the corner of his eye, he spotted Miravet staring at him.

"He is by far not all kitted out," she said sourly. "Not the way he should be. But he persistently refuses to put on proper armor. Because it "negatively impacts his maneuverability more than it aids him" . . . Are you perhaps challenging my skill?" she shot in Henry's direction. "Know that I would accept such a challenge!"

"Challenge?" Henry swiveled back toward her.

"To design a suit of armor you would be willing to wear." She eyed him up and down, tapping her chin. "Movable, scale-shaped components . . . we must leave some of that fur in there, for you seem to love it so. The saddle gear must be built in, obviously. A removable cape, your fur boots . . . And all will be in black, befitting that gorgeous Greatsword of yours." She smiled. "There is one with the hardness of countenance for black armor if I've ever seen one. Thoughts?"

Henry stared at her with a widened eye, then grinned. "Man, that's one suit of armor I'd like to see one day . . . you have yourself a challenge." Too late he realized that, to see it happen, he would have to see her after the war had ended.

Miravet didn't allow him to take it back; she smiled undauntedly. "I will not fail."

***

Most of the army had retreated to get a few hours of sleep; in the large cave remained the captains, their lieutenants, and only about half a dozen or so soldiers, alongside the remaining questers.

As soon as Henry entered, all eyes were on him. Mareth and Perdita, who had stood at the table with the map, interrupted their conversation, Ruvin, who'd been talking to Gregor, Ares, and the representatives of the rats, did the same and straightened out his cloak.

Henry suppressed the rising unease. Despite what had become of her now, it was Solovet's very first lesson that shot through his mind: If they are to respect you as their commander, you have to act like a commander too. A commander, he thought, and instantly stood taller. With large steps, he approached the table and nodded at Mareth and Perdita. Who'd have thought I'd be using Solovet's own lessons against her, one day? The thought almost made him laugh . . . almost.

"So, we've made our rough plan, but there are some details that we must discuss." He leaned on the table where Mareth and Perdita had made room for him and raised his voice. "Will you all assemble for a moment?"

In less than a minute, the dozen or so who had remained in the cave had circled the table. Even Ripred, Lapblood, and Splintleg found their spots alongside them all. Luxa leaped to sit on the edge of the table next to Henry; Thanatos and Nike joined the rest of the fliers on the ceiling. They had a better view from there, and it was more comfortable than squeezing in between the humans.

Once they had all gathered, Henry took a deep breath. "So, we have our plan—three tunnels for three divisions." He placed three red pyramids in the respective tunnels. "You captains may coordinate who will take which one between yourselves."

Mareth, Ruvin, and Perdita exchanged surprised glances. "Yes . . . we can," Perdita mumbled and gazed up at the bats. "We best consult with our scouts to decide this."

Henry nodded. "Take time to distribute the provided ignifer pellets after Solovet has departed. Otherwise, she might get suspicious. And instruct your soldiers to be sparse with the stuff; we have not enough to give everyone a spare pellet. Ensure that everyone carries a firestone, and mind that it only burns for fifteen minutes, so do not give the command to ignite it before battle will be imminent."

"Yes, Lord Commander." All captains nodded in unison.

"So." Henry looked up from the map for the first time to make eye contact with the Captains. "Do any of you have questions, concerns, or suggestions? Voice them now or never."

The Captains exchanged another baffled glance. Around the table arose a quiet murmur. Henry frowned. "What's the matter?" A wave of anxiety hit him; he pushed off the table and frowned—had he made some sort of obvious beginner mistake?

"Oh, nothing." Mareth, having sensed his unease, placed a hand on Henry's shoulder. "It is just that . . . none of us are used to being asked for our opinion anymore. Solovet has . . . Well, she used to be open-minded and just in the past, but ever since her re-instating, she hasn't taken well to any form of criticism. She has not even named a Lord Deputy, after the passing of the last one."

"Oh well . . ." Henry grinned in relief. "Her loss. More heads are always better than one."

Another collective murmur ran through the little assembly, and when Mareth spontaneously started clapping, the others quickly joined in.

Henry grinned ear to ear; he felt almost sorry for having to break up the applause. "Well, I do appreciate your all's appreciation, really, but we have more business to discuss." He waved, and all fell silent instantly.

"He's actually way too good at this. Like, unsettlingly so," Ripred whispered audibly into Luxa's ear and they both giggled.

"See?" she nudged Henry. "And you moron ask me why I called upon them to vote for you!"

Henry slowly turned to her. "Did you just call your Lord Commander a moron?"

Luxa's smile fell. "I—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Henry shoved her off the table with one swift motion. She yelped and plummeted, but instantly poked her head up over the edge again to death-glare him. "HEY!"

Henry ignored her. "Anyway, does anyone have suggestions?"

All shook their heads, and Henry tapped the map. "Then we move on to what the rest of you, who are not soldiers, shall do." He forced himself to put on a stern face and did his absolute best to ignore how they all fought laughter at the disheveled Luxa; she now sulkily climbed onto the table again.

"Lapblood, Splintleg?" The rats gazed at him with a mix of suspicion and intrigue. Henry cleared his throat. "I know I am not technically your commander, but you would be most useful if you assembled all the gnawers who are still willing to fight for us despite Whitespur's passing to infiltrate the Bane's camp. Mingle with his army, tell them you changed your minds or something. And when the battle then begins and the enemy is drawn out of the camp by our army, defend the tunnel openings from the other side to prevent a retreat."

Henry rummaged in the bag with the pyramids and picked out a handful of green ones to position one at the opening of each tunnel.

Lapblood and Splintleg exchanged looks. "We can do that," Splintleg said.

Lapblood nodded. "It is a smart plan. A plan . . . not unlike one of Whitespur's own."

Henry stiffened, caught somewhere between pride and sorrow. The memory of her still stung too fresh, but he could not afford to grieve now. "It must be showing that I studied under her for almost eight months."

Before Lapblood or Splintleg could ask him to elaborate, he cleared his throat again. "Is anyone present who represents the scouts?"

A man clad in black raised his hand. "My name is Bertram. I am the High Scout's second in command." He pointed at a woman next to him, also in black. "My wife, Henna, is also with us."

Henry gave the two a nod. "I have a special mission for your squadron. Luxa, Gregor, the others, and I have, on our quest to gather allies, gained the support of many a species. I would like you to send your scouts to alert all those we have befriended; Ripred can brief you on who all that is after this meeting. And . . . the spinners too; just make sure you stay out of Solovet's way. Give them, like, ten buzzer wings, and they'll move a whole mountain for you."

Bertram and Henna exchanged glances. "As you wish, Lord Commander."

Ripred threw Henry a glare for the unannounced side task, but he just glared back. "You . . . After you brief the scouts, you must show Gregor and Ares the way to the Plain." He hesitated. "And . . . where else do you think you'd be most useful?"

"Me? Useful?" Ripred chuckled. "Oh, I don't know . . . Perhaps I can convince some of the deserting fleabags that Whitespur's death's no reason to give up on our cause. I'll find and drag some of their scattered hides back into battle. How 'bout it?"

"Perfect. I'm sure you'll do as good a job as she would have." Ripred actually averted his gaze, and Henry gave him a wide smile; then his eye fell on Gregor. "You and Ares must venture to the Plain of Tartarus, as Solovet announced, I'm afraid. Let Ripred show you the way."

Gregor glanced up at his bond and shifted. "Yeah, I know."

"Which is why—" Henry rummaged through the backpack he had preemptively packed, "—I am giving this thing to you." Gregor's eyes widened as Henry produced his old ignifer dispenser. "Give me that sword of yours."

The Overlander hesitantly unsheathed Sandwich's old, jewel-adorned sword and slid it over the table toward Henry, who swiftly clasped the dispenser around the upper part of the blade. "This thing can hold, dispense, and ignite three pellets, so you will have readily accessible fire for forty-five minutes."

He slid the sword back over to Gregor who inspected it with a mix of concern and intrigue. "And before you dismiss it," Henry grinned sourly, "do not neglect its use as a light source. The Bane, despite his weakness from what you did to his tail, is a fierce opponent. If somehow possible, do not allow him to drive you out of open space into any tunnel. Use your advantage well."

Gregor gritted his teeth but then determinedly sheathed the sword. "Thank you. I'm sure it'll be a great help . . . Lord Commander."

Henry froze and frowned, staring at the Overlander with surprise. Everyone but him he had expected to use this title. But before he could comment on it, Nike from above spoke: "And what of yourself?"

"Thanatos, Aurora, Luxa, and I . . . we will follow after Solovet." Henry quelled the uprising murmur with the raise of his hand. "Someone has to. I mean, who has ever confirmed that she is really meeting with the spinners? And I'm already sending the scouts out for our allies. I . . ." He picked at the table. "I apologize for not leading you into this battle personally, but I trust you will succeed without me. Solovet must be monitored; from this point on, we must make note of any information she might pass on to the enemy. Luxa is safest with me, so we'll go together. Gregor," he gazed at the Overlander, "if the opportunity arises, we'll join you by the Plain afterward. But I trust you all have this battle here handled."

Everyone looked at him silently for a heartbeat, then Perdita slowly nodded. "This is perhaps the best plan . . . Thank you for your trust. We will not disappoint." She gripped the handle of her sword tightly.

"We will drive those wretched gnawers out, as they deserve!" Ruvin cried, then somewhat awkwardly glanced at Lapblood and Splintleg. "I mean—"

"You mean what you said." Lapblood nodded. "For it is indeed what they deserve. Only the biggest of fools still follow the Bane."

Ruvin and Lapblood exchanged a pensive look. "So it will then be."

She approvingly twitched her tail. "So it will be."

"Well then!" Henry clapped his hands. "I suggest you all—save the scouts and the gnawers—use the last remaining hour to get some rest. You," he regarded Bertram and Henna, "must leave at once to reach everyone in time. And you," he faced Lapblood, "better get going as well. The sooner you mingle with the enemy, the more time you have to prepare yourself and, if the chance arises, perhaps convince one or the other gnawer to join us. For, as you said . . . only the biggest of fools still follow the Bane. Maybe there are fewer fools than we believe."

Lapblood and Splintleg exchanged glances. "We'll do our best."

Henry took a deep breath, then released it again. "Thank you. And to you others—it's been my honor. You are dismissed."

The group gave a unanimous salute and dispersed; only Mareth and Luxa remained by the table. Ripred hesitated, then pushed Gregor forward toward the scouts who gathered in one corner of the cave.

As soon as they stopped paying him attention, Henry slouched forward on the table. "Man, I'm spent . . . This is exhausting as hell . . ." he groaned.

Luxa and Mareth laughed. "You were fantastic." The Captain patted his shoulder. "Our army hasn't been run this fairly and reasonably since the war started."

"Mhm . . . I'm going to go to sleep, okay?" Henry mumbled but jumped up when Thanatos landed in front of him on the table. "On the fly, maybe, but we also must leave at once. Otherwise, Solovet will wake, and we are not gone yet. We can wait for her where we are concealed from sight."

"After Solovet," he mumbled. "Who'd have thought this is the way I'd become what she wanted out of me anyway? I can't say it isn't the slightest bit satisfying to steal her own rank from her like this." He determinedly avoided all thoughts about what that meant for his decision to never return. Whether anything about that had changed, whether he wanted anything to change. He had greater concerns right now. He'd deal with his inadvertent entwinement with civilization when he absolutely had to, and not a moment sooner.

Luxa and Mareth exchanged grins. "I knew you'd say that," she laughed.

"Yeah, and besides . . ." Henry pulled at his collar. "Doesn't she still have my Commander Crest too? Have to get that, don't I?"

Both of them broke into proper laughter. "Ah, there is the true reason you meant to go after her." Thanatos leaped from the table and nudged him.

"Of course it is. What other reason would there even be?" Henry lay back down on the table until Luxa pushed him.

"Oh, come on, you great Commander, or they'll start looking again."

Henry rose unwillingly and adjusted his bracer. "At once, Your Majesty."

***

"Won't Twirltongue smell us?"

"We're still in the Firelands; with the air here, there's a good chance she may not distinguish our smell as fresh."

"A chance?" Luxa threw Henry an unreadable but amused gaze as they cowered on a ledge, maybe fifty feet above the ground where Solovet had made her camp, some hour ago.

Luxa, Aurora, Thanatos, and he had departed together with the scouts and the rats, roughly half a day ago, and had not left Solovet out of sight since; as Henry had suspected, she had no plans of actually contacting the spinners. Earlier, she and Ajax had talked about meeting with Twirltongue though, and now they were all waiting for the rat to arrive—the humans and fliers above, Solovet and Ajax below.

"Being smelled out would be inconvenient," mumbled Thanatos. "Solovet does not know for certain that we still live, and we will keep it that way. But if we are smelled out, we will grasp the opportunity to take Twirltongue out, at least."

It was silent for a moment, then someone unexpected spoke: "How much is he in on her betrayal? What do you wager?"

The little group up on the ledge all stared at Aurora, whose pensive gaze was on Ajax. The rust-red flier hung on the other side of the cave; his eyes were closed. Solovet sat close by, cross-legged; in the light of her torch, she sorted through her backpack. She stood out against the grays and browns of the rock around them, for she still wore the white armor she had donned for the counterstrike. Henry couldn't help but find it a fitting color for her—not just because it harmonized well with her silver-white hair.

Before anyone could respond to Aurora, the fliers both perked up, and Henry's focused hearing picked up on the distinct scrape of claw on stone.

"You left me waiting," Solovet said curtly, standing up.

"Pardon that." Twirltongue slid out of a narrow tunnel on ground level, across from their ledge. "Ever since your warrior did such a number on the Bane's tail, he has been . . . hard to deal with. Harder than before. Much." Henry heard the underlying irritation in her otherwise pleasant voice perfectly.

"It couldn't be helped." Solovet shrugged. "I would have roused suspicions, had I not seized the opportunity and sent him to battle, then. The tail was not my idea."

"You say that a lot." Twirltongue slowly circled around her. "Your "It would have roused suspicions"."

Instead of replying, Solovet produced a pocket-sized map from her backpack. "I came to tell you that your gnawers are facing a counterstrike, but they shan't worry; I have chosen a terrain that will make a swift victory on your end likely." She spread the map and pointed at the tunnels.

Henry couldn't help a satisfied grin; he lamented how he could not go down there and rub it in their faces that he had already averted that. As they had agreed, nobody had told her about the ignifer, and he thought the longer it was that she didn't know, the better.

"Well, well! This shouldn't be an issue." Twirltongue's tail coiled. "But what of the Bane? Didn't it "rouse suspicions" that you didn't send any troops after him?"

"My army believes he is in the camp with the rest of you." Solovet lied so seamlessly that a part of Henry wanted to applaud her.

"Of course!" Twirltongue chirped. "So I wager the warrior will be among your troops as well?"

"Indeed. Feel free to take care of him at your will."

Twirltongue purred approvingly. "Excellent. You have not broken the Code of Claw yet either?"

"I doubt we ever will," said Solovet sourly.

"You know . . ." Twirltongue sank to her hinds between Solovet and Ajax; when he felt her presence, the red flier opened one eye.

"For a human," she said, "you are an excellent aid. Far more useful than any we have ever had so far. At least, so mother told me. I was too young at the time to meet any of her informants, but she never ceased telling the most amusing of tales about their utter failures. But you," she regarded Solovet. "You are not gullible like Prince Henry, or weak-willed like that girl Dalia. You know your place and your goal. Even I find your determination and strength inspiring, you know? It isn't easy for me to admit this, given our species, but, whenever I must act like a leader, I think of you."

"Flattery is unquestionably your strongest asset."

Twirltongue laughed. "I know you don't care much for it, but it is a powerful tool. So powerful that it may rule nations and minds, move mountains, and seal fates. Don't you at least agree with me?"

Ajax twitched when she nudged him. "Powerful," he said after a moment of hesitation. "But not for me. I prefer to be direct and swift."

"Oh, you two are no fun!" whined Twirltongue, and Henry almost laughed. "Although it is quite fortunate that you two share such similar mindsets. I imagine it would be hard to hide something such as this from each other, no?"

Nobody replied, but Twirltongue was looking at Ajax now. "Say, have I ever expressed my gratitude for your nothing short of excellent services as well? Pardon if I—"

"Shouldn't we get going?" To their all surprise, Ajax fluttered down and landed before Solovet, disregarding Twirltongue entirely. "We meant to seek out the spinners."

Twirltongue and Solovet seemed taken aback. Solovet shrugged. "I don't think that will be necessary. I merely used it to excuse our absences. Of what use will they be to a condemned army?"

Ajax said nothing, but it was then that something within Henry stirred. His eyes were on the large red flier and his spread wings, the way he cowered before Solovet and Twirltongue, and especially the way he looked at them. Them both.

"He is—"

Before Aurora could voice what Henry presumed they all thought, Twirltongue shrugged. "This reminds me—you may not have anywhere to be, but my prolonged absence will be noted. I must return." She raised her head, and Henry's heart skipped a beat when he feared that she had smelled them after all. But the silver rat only twitched her tail in Solovet's direction, mumbling, "We may meet again after this battle has been won," and disappeared out of sight, the way she had come.

"What was that about?" Solovet hissed as soon as Twirltongue was out of sight and presumably earshot, and whipped around to Ajax, who hadn't lost his defensive stance. "I was going to ask her for the condition of the Bane and how much of a threat he will really pose!"

"Does that still matter?" Ajax growled. "You have already sent the warrior out to kill him. Any further information could not be relayed to him either way."

"And what if he fails? Have you considered that?!"

Both Ajax and the spectators on the ledge winced when Solovet spat out the words.

"The prophecy says that he will succeed . . ."

"The prophecy says that he will die," Solovet said curtly, and Henry felt a cold shiver down his spine. He had entirely forgotten about . . . "If he succeeds in killing the Bane in the process, we shall take that advantage. But if the monster's blood is spilled without resulting in his death, we may have to take care of the Bane ourselves. Did you not consider that?"

Ajax dug his claws into the ground. "I have not," he admitted after a while. "But we mustn't—"

"We must keep up appearances until, between the warrior and the Bane, one or both of them are dead. We have gone over this a million times!"

The red flier beat the loaded air with his wings. "I do not like what you have in mind for when the warrior will be dead."

Solovet scoffed. "What? Why? Where have I overlooked something?"

"You have not overlooked anything," Ajax hissed. "I merely—"

"Then cease complaining and let us depart. If possible, I would like to witness the battle between the Bane and the warrior. Perhaps if we are there, we can ensure that they are both taken care of by the end of it."

But Ajax didn't move an inch. Henry swore he could hear him mutter something under his breath; judging by Thanatos' and Aurora's peeking ears and standing-on-end fur, they had heard it too.

"Ajax, he . . ." Luxa broke off. "Does he disagree with her actions?" she finally asked; it was apparent that she hadn't even considered this before.

"He is unhappy," mumbled Thanatos.

"With the way she treats him, more than anything, I believe," added Aurora, and Henry stiffened. "He spoke in flier; an approximate translation may be "I am now an unheard voice"."

"I cannot say whether he condones her actions," Thanatos said after a short pause. "But Ares said that, although he hides it well, he is full of anger and sorrow."

"Can we not . . . do something for him?"

Everyone was baffled by Henry's words.

"Do . . . how?" asked Luxa.

"Perhaps we should discover whether he condones and shares Solovet's rage and hatred before we rush to any conclusions about him," mumbled Thanatos, and Henry sighed.

"Fine." His eyes fixed on Ajax and for some reason, Henry felt guilt well up in him. He hadn't considered that he may have an opinion that differed from the one of his bond either; despite Solovet's treason, they had been inseparable, hadn't they? But that wasn't his concern; Henry clenched his fist. What irked him so much was not how close they appeared, but . . . the way she had spoken to him. "I still think that—"

"What's the holdup?" Solovet spoke before Ajax could finish the sentence. "Is there a problem?"

Even from where they sat, Henry saw the flier's fur stand on end. "There are problems, but you have decided a while ago that they shouldn't be concerns of yours."

"What are you talking about?" She scoffed, whipping around to him with something she meant to come across as irritation, but Henry saw it in her wringing hands and her pulled-up shoulders . . . she was nervous.

"I mean that, before our first meeting with the slippery silver one, you told me to have faith in your vision. To have faith in your choice. In you." He paused. "I have had faith in you for over three decades, so it was not as hard as it may have been, had we no history."

"Then what is your problem?" Solovet cried. "I thought that was just it—there was no problem."

"With your false cooperation with the gnawers? There are none. With your announcement that Luxa had lost her life? It was a jarring move, yet you asked me to trust your vision, and so I did. However . . ." Ajax drew his wings in. "With your pointless sending your army into their deaths? Why have you decided so, and that while sending me on a pointless errand that I now recognize to have been a distraction? You deceive so many so expertly, even yourself. But you are not to deceive me."

They were all silent, Solovet as much as the party up on the ledge. Nobody—Henry wondered if even Solovet—had ever heard Ajax say so much in one stretch.

Before his exile, Henry and Ares had spent more time with Solovet's bond than most, due to their special military training, and Henry recalled Ajax as a quiet and reclusive type, not unlike Aurora. But now, his raspy, albeit surprisingly melodious, voice echoed from the walls with more than just warning. With rage and sorrow, as Aurora had said. So much of both that the emotions trickled into Henry's mind and tingled on his bare palms.

"I . . . sent you away because I anticipated that you would disagree," Solovet eventually replied. "I wanted to spare you the choice between openly contradicting me or pretending to agree with something you disagree with."

"And what if it was not your choice?" Ajax hissed. "What if I wanted to make it?"

Solovet stilled. Henry saw that she was surprised by the response; she wasn't used to being openly contradicted, and he would have loved to break into applause on Ajax' behalf, for daring something that so few ever did but that, so he found, Solovet desperately needed.

"I trusted . . . your vision," the red flier said slowly. "As you asked of me. There was no reason for me to doubt you or your intention. But now . . . I feel inclined to at last inquire about the full extent of this vision. What is it that you plan to do besides win the war? To rule in Luxa's place? Are we plotting one, or maybe even two, queenslayings? Tell me!"

They all winced when he yelled out the last words. She hadn't told Ajax about her attempt to kill Luxa herself, Henry deduced, more surprised than he probably should be. The flier had taken a long time to fetch her, back then. Was it because he wasn't supposed to see or hear?

"Of what use is more information to you?" cried Solovet. She held herself defensively, but Henry saw that she trembled. "The more you know, the more burdens you must carry. Burdens of secrets and of—"

"I must know because I must judge whether I can still trust your vision," Ajax said calmly, and a tremor ran through Solovet. "Let the number of my burdens not be a concern of yours. To end this war and drive out every last gnawer, to bring an era of peace and prosperity—so is the vision we dreamed of," he said with overflowing sorrow.

"Yes," Solovet replied with a shaking voice, but this time it was the flier who cut her off.

"No. So spoke the Solovet of Old," he said. "The Solovet of Great. The stern yet compassionate leader who believed so strongly that she would sacrifice everything, even herself. Even, as it would seem, her integrity by fighting with unjust weapons. Is she still the one I call my bond, I ask?"

"What are you—?" Her voice cracked, but Ajax cut her off again.

"Is she able to reclaim her integrity?" he said. "Or is it I who is clinging to delusions because no matter how much I wish to believe, that Solovet no longer exists, and the one before me can only run in circles in this bottomless quicksand until she drags not only all whom I still . . . whom I still love . . ." He dug his claws into the stone until it cracked. ". . . down with her, but me as well. Me, who must remain shackled to her despite how she is morphing and shifting into someone . . . someone else entirely."

For a moment, Henry wondered whether Ajax had meant to say, "Someone I wouldn't bond to if given the choice." But he was too captivated by the solemn words to ask whether his companions had similar thoughts. All he could do was stare.

"You . . ." Solovet stepped closer. "You and I . . ." All animosity had vanished from her voice now; Henry only heard anxiety. "You are not . . . shackled. You are my bond."

"And as such, I am also condemned by your self-condemnation. Does the Solovet in front of me know that? Would she sacrifice . . . me too?"

"It is not sacrifice! Not condemnation!" she cried. "It is our—!"

"What happened to our retirement?"

"Retirement?!" Solovet froze; with something like fear, Henry registered that her hand was at the hilt of her sword. "You and I are not fit for retirement; we are in our prime!"

"We are not; you know that perfectly well. And although I do not feel weak, I feel tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of the scheming. Euripides says he is tired too. When will we be at peace? When can we finally be at peace?"

"Peace is for the WEAK!" Solovet yelled, and it was only then that Ajax genuinely tensed. His wings snapped open. "Peace," Solovet forced out of her throat, "is for the vision-less. The task-less. The weak. The WEAK! I am not . . . WEAK!"

"You—"

"I have . . . labored . . ." She laughed . . . or so Henry presumed. It was a maniacal wheeze more than anything else. "Labored, sweated, and bled for your wretched peace. For the extinction of this war's source. Once and for all. And I will prevail! I hear what they say!" Her voice cracked. "Behind my back! They say . . . They call me a criminal. A traitor. And for what!?"

"For the development of an unjust and uncontrollable weapon that nearly backfired and killed many of our own," hissed Ajax.

"Oh!" she scoffed. "Oh! Is that what you really think? What, do you agree with them? Do you call me a traitor too? Would you like to? If that is what you think, then you may say it to my face!" she spat. "Say it!"

Henry heard the distinct sound of a drawn blade and twitched. He watched the tauntingly pointed sword in Solovet's hand and suddenly felt a small hand on his arm. "Do not be rash," Luxa whispered into his ear. "I hate this as much as you, but we must not give away that we are here. It is not worth giving away that we live, and that we overheard everything between her and Twirltongue."

"But Ajax—"

"Solovet will hardly harm him," mumbled Aurora. "They have been bonded for over three decades. No matter what madness may have befallen her, I will not believe that a bond as solid as theirs may try to cause each other serious harm." Despite her apparent confidence in her words, Aurora's voice was shaking.

"Yes. She is likely only trying to intimidate him," Luxa whispered, but it did nothing for the sinking sick feeling in Henry's stomach.

"But Solovet . . ." Ajax retreated a few steps; his wings jolted open again as though he were preparing for lift-off. "It is not a rumor or a conspiracy—it is a fact. You are a traitor. Not for the plague, but for this." He beat the air with his enormous wings. "This, what you are doing now. You have betrayed your army the moment you sent them into this battle."

"But I—"

"You are a traitor," said Ajax, and Henry felt a shiver from the unsettling dejection in his voice. "And so am I. For being by your side . . . as I vowed. For not seeing, or for refusing to believe. Refusing to . . . refuse."

"That is not how this works!" she cried. "As my bond, you cannot . . . refuse."

"Exactly. I cannot," said Ajax. "And you do not care about what that entails for me. I am unsurprised by how you do not care about what consequences your actions have on yourself, but I am not a mere part of you! I am . . . am . . ."

"Our life and death are one." Solovet spoke the words with so much seething contempt that Henry felt a shiver down his spine. "One. Which means—"

"That I do not matter?!" Ajax cried. "Is that what it means to you now?!" He lunged forward, and Henry's hand twitched to his boomerang reflexively, but the flier didn't attack Solovet; he flung himself in the air and began flying frantic circles above her head.

"Come back!" she yelled, pointing her sword up as if she could still intimidate him, high in the air.

In the last moment before Ajax would have run straight into them on their ledge, Thanatos pulled Henry and Aurora back and into the crevice that bordered it; Luxa still clung to Henry's arm, and he dragged her along. There was a narrow path leading out there, but they didn't think about fleeing.

"I am not done!" yelled Solovet below. "Not done! Not done with you!" Her breath hitched, and Henry thought she was moments from either losing the last bit of her sanity or breaking into tears. Or both.

"You are not?" Ajax replied, hovering over her. "But how could you not be if you do not care? Care about . . . whom or what you drag with yourself; whom you hurt! I have bonded to you, so my fate by your side is sealed."

"Bonded! Yes! So, you cannot run!" she pressed out. "You cannot BETRAY me!"

"I have not betrayed you . . . and thereby betrayed myself. I will not betray myself any longer," Ajax said and veered. "I will not drown slowly at your side. I will be free."

He flew one more narrow loop around her head, and before anyone had the time to process what he meant to do, let alone act, Ajax dove and plunged into Solovet's bared blade.