Cassie was well aware that the music was playing. It was her cue to leave the supply room and circle toward the chapel's entrance.

But she couldn't.

It came on so quickly. She was dizzy and light-headed. The suffocating weight of her dress and her tight undergarments were making the problem worse. 

She reached for the doorframe to stabilize her sway. She could barely breathe. There was something drastically wrong. Something else. She could feel it in every fiber of her being.

Bang, boom, crash. . . 

Glass scattered across the hall in front of her.

Cassie retreated into the clutter of the room. And that was when the screams began.

She knocked the candelabra to the floor on purpose. The wicks dimmed and went out as she backed between a cupboard and a cracked, floor-standing mirror. She bundled the dress into the hiding spot as best she could.

A blur of red and blue whizzed by—Andromeda's Crown Champions—in pursuit of those fleeing for their lives.

Even in the dark, it was only a matter of time before they discovered her too. Her dress was designed to catch the light, any light.

The room had one stained-glass window to her left. It felt impossibly far away. She'd have to step into the open. Get something to break it.

She didn't leave herself a choice. It was the only way.

When the hall to her right cleared, she picked up a broken chair, swung it hard, and shattered the glass on her first try. She kicked one jagged shard out of her way and climbed to the sill. 

The drop to the ground wasn't terribly far. So she took her skirt and train in her arms, crouched, and eased herself over the ledge.

Her high-heeled slippers did very little to ease her landing. She fell to her hands and knees. The dress cushioned her fall, but it wasn't helping her to get up. There were too many layers to scramble through.

And it didn't matter how fast she worked or how hard she tried. Her mother's Gray Coats had her surrounded moments later.

She slowly rose to her feet, refusing to cower on the ground before them. 

"Look what we have here!" one of them taunted. He lifted her chin with the tip of his sword.

Another one gripped onto her dress. Cassie ducked away from the sword and snatched back her dress. She turned in a full circle. There were six of them in her immediate vicinity, and many more at a discouragingly close distance.

"A feisty one!" 

"This must be the princess we've heard so much about. Isn't she beautiful?"

Two hands. Four hands. More. She was being groped all over. As she attempted to jerk free, the dress tore.

"You could hide three fairies under there!" the one in back of her said, lifting up her tattered train.

"What reward can we expect if we hand her over?"

"What's the hurry?"

They all snickered.

A seventh Gray Coat pushed onto the scene. He came in from behind. "The princess is to come with me!" he commanded, his sword propped in his ready arm.

He was so angry. It was so intense it was making her ears ring.

"Under whose orders?" the mercenary across from him spat.

"Direct orders from the queen."

The new Gray Coat took hold of her by the waist and covered her mouth with his forearm, his sword locked in a fist behind her ear. He started carrying her away.

For someone supposedly loyal to the queen, he didn't smell right, feel right, or sound right.

Though five of the mercenaries scattered, the sixth one, the one giving her new captor a hard time, did not. "You're not a Crown Champion. No one would entrust such a mission to a lowly faceless Gray Coat." He approached with his sword looming in in front of Cassie's exposed eyes. "You want her for yourself! What's your identification code? I'm going to report you for this!"

In one swift motion, the arm covering Cassie's mouth maneuvered the sword into a stab position. The blade went directly through the opposer's throat. Cassie's captor then kicked the dead inconvenience free of his blade.

It all happened so quickly. So seamlessly. Cassie couldn't even attempt an escape in such a limited timeframe. She didn't even have a chance to scream.

He continued carrying Cassie off, cutting across the graveyard, doing his best to keep them both from view with uncanny speed and skill. It was quite the feat, but he didn't struggle with it. He had such . . . determination. Did he want her dead or alive? There was no "gray." It was black or white. One or the other.

He crossed Royal Way and slipped between two residences. He kept his forearm over her mouth until he encountered a high brick wall. After glancing back at Royal Way, he released her.

She was free to run. Scream. Do something. But, he never hurt her. Never taunted her or threatened her.

She stood still, watching him pace away.

He went to scope out the wall. It was lit with two torches. There was one lantern hanging over a doorway and another bright one on the inside of a building but beside a window.

It was dark, but not dark enough.

She glanced over her shoulder. The mouth of the alley was clear. For now.

"Who are you?" Cassie demanded of him once her gaze returned. "If you were a legitimate mercenary to the queen, I would be dead or in her possession by now."

He wandered back over and pulled off the helmet, setting it at his feet. "Someone whose life you once saved," Christopher MacRae said to her, no longer disguising his voice. "I figured I ought to return the favor. And maybe now, you have one less reason to hate me."

Chris gauged her reaction, but she was too shocked to give him more than just that, shock. And with each passing moment, she felt the hope abandoning him. His chin dropped and his eyes flicked back to the road.

Cassie took that opportunity to move closer to him. She couldn't come up with the right words, so she eased her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest instead, wishing she could breathe in just him, and not the lingering putridity of the uniform he must have stolen.

Chris gripped her lightly at the head and back. His affection was hesitant, but his relief, pure. "Are you all right?"

"I am now." She wanted to hold him longer, but there was also anxiety pouring from him. Distance was their friend, time their enemy, and they had enough enemies already. She released him and turned around. "Can you get me out of this dress?"

"Uh . . . yeah," he agreed after a blip. It was an embarrassing request, for them both, but a necessary one. The dress would slow her down and attract far too much attention. "Is there some kind of trick to this? I can barely see anything."

"You can slice it open."

With his sword, Chris cut through the back of the gown. Though far from ideal, her corset and petticoat were a lot less cumbersome. While she slipped off her shoes—too impractical to keep—Chris removed the "Gray Coat" and turned it inside-out to change its appearance. Then he draped it over her bare shoulders. 

"Thank you," she murmured as she accepted the oversized jacket, slipping her arms through the sleeves. "And I don't hate you."

Chris half sighed and half chuckled. "C'mon." He tapped her once beneath the chin, like he occasionally used to do, probably unaware he had fallen into an old habit. "We should go. Get you someplace safe."

Chris looked back at Royal Way and then at the wall blocking their escape. The top of it was over his head, beyond his reach too. But a loose brick about knee high provided him with an idea. He kicked at it to loosen it further and jimmied it out of the wall.

He hoisted Cassie up first. Then, using the foot hole and Cassie's help, he joined her on the top of the wall. Below, there was an alley. He lowered her down with her good arm and landed beside her.

"Cass, do you think you can get to Aurora Borealis without me?" He fumbled through his pockets beneath his pockets—it was now obvious he was wearing two pairs of pants—and put a key in her hand.

"You're not coming with me?"

"I wish I could, but. . ." He glanced at her bad hand. And then at her feet—no shoes, only stockings.

"Your family," she finished for him, slipping the bandage back beneath her oversized sleeve.

Chris had a difficult decision to make and one he had to make quickly. He was obviously hesitant to let Cassie go alone, but he also feared for the lives of his father and brother. If they used magic and worked together, they could probably hold a dozen or two of Andromeda's soldiers at bay. But there were thousands of them and there was no easy way out of the chapel. 

"Yeah, my family. . ." 

Chris didn't have the opportunity to suggest a plan and Cassie never decided if she would go on without him. A hellish creature with the head of a dragon landed on The Mainway at the mouth of their alley. It emitted a blood-curdling screech and a blast of fire. Chris grabbed her by the wrist and ran with her in the opposite direction.

They turned a corner at the first opportunity. With the wall still to their left, going right was their only option. The new pathway was long and empty. The buildings were square, no gaps between them, and there were no major inlets, walls, or turns in their immediate view.

The creature shrieked, clearly not pleased that it had been outrun. They were pursued by heavy, deliberate footsteps that made the rock pulse beneath her shoeless feet. The alley was narrow. The creature was massive for Pyxis' streets, but still, it was gaining on them.

Chris and Cassie split up to check every door, every window. The fourth building on Chris's right was locked, but the cellar door had a pane of glass by the knob. When they heard another screech, he broke it with his elbow, opened the lock, and ushered her inside just as the creature turned its scaled head to look for them.

Cassie scrambled behind a crate on the floor. At her first peek out, the beast was passing by the broken glass, inspecting the hole with particular interest.

Smoke puffed from its snout. A monstrous rattle erupted with each breath it took.

Chris was stuck with his back against the wall beside the door. The only movement came from his closing eyelids.

Then, the sound of the beast's heavy wheezing faded. Chris opened his eyes and gasped for air. He crouched and scurried over to Cassie's hiding spot. 

They were in a poorly lit storage area—their only light came from a streetlamp nearby. The windows were small and filthy. It was darker behind them, in the shape of a rectangle—most likely a stairway—but they would have to work their way around broken cauldrons, liquids in peculiar glass bottles, and jars of disturbing solids—eyeballs, human by the size of them—preserved fairy limbs—arms, legs, wings—and huge creepy-crawly things.  

With a squeeze to the arm, Chris urged Cassie to go ahead of him. She crawled toward what they presumed were stairs, and they were right. As they climbed, light became entirely absent. Step by step, they moved quickly and cautiously.

Cassie soon stumbled upon an object that moved once disturbed. It fell, rolling to the side. Cassie reached out to stop it. So did Chris, but it slipped from their fingertips and bounced down the stairs, landing with a shatter.

They sprang to their feet. Chris stumbled around her. Crash. Whoosh.

The dragon-like beast roared. He was inside. And then Cassie and Chris were no longer in the dark. The entire cellar burst into flames.

The door at the top of the stairs was locked. Chris threw his shoulder into it—one, two, three times—and finally the wood splintered.

Overheated and gasping for breath, flames practically licking their ankles, they shuffled into a corridor that led to another doorway. This door was open. 

"You're not supposed to be back there!" a clerk at the counter shouted as they barged into the storeroom.

They continued to hustle toward the front exit. Cassie and Chris tripped onto The Mainway just as the whole building exploded. Shattered glass rained down on them as they worked their way into the crowd.

The Mainway was in a state of pandemonium. Terrified fairies were trying to avoid Andromeda's soldiers by flying at unsafe speeds, pushing their way into businesses and homes, and flocking into the back alleys. 

Since Cassie and Chris were too recognizable to linger on The Mainway, they headed west, almost to the river. It wasn't a safe area to traverse, but it was safer than the alternative—villains and beasts of unimaginable iniquity. She had full faith that Chris could handle any and all else.

They kept a fast and steady pace until Cassie couldn't keep up anymore.

Chris sat her down on the steps of a boarded-up building. "Is everything okay?"

Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She feared she might lose consciousness. "What . . . was that . . . back there?"

"A Fire Breather. Wasn't he fun? Or she. When it comes to evil in Pyxis, I suppose we shouldn't discriminate."

She gave him a weak smile. "Have you ever encountered one before?"

He took a second to remove a few shards of glass from her fancy up-do, which was showing signs of wear despite being anchored in place by no less than a hundred pins. "No, and from what my father told me, they're nearly impossible to kill." He tilted her chin from side to side to capture the light from a distant streetlamp. Suddenly his eyes went wide. "Oops, one gotcha." He pulled out a shard of glass from her hairline by her temple and obscured the trickle of blood with the pad of his thumb.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

She had his full attention in an abandoned alley and wanted to make the most of it. "Before we come across another one or something worse, I want to apologize for what I said to you yesterday." 

His expression darkened. "You don't have to apologize. I'm the only one who should be begging for forgiveness."

"That's not true. I was surprised. And angry at the situation . . . not at you. I wish I could take it back."

His face was full of raw emotion just like it used to be, more often than not. Only now, she had a harder time interpreting it. She was out of practice. And Chris didn't appear to have any intention of saying what was really on his mind.    

"Feeling any better?" He rubbed the back of his hand over her forehead, worry flooding into his smoky, mysterious, blue-green-brown eyes. "You look . . . pale."

They were a swirling, changeable, contingent upon the light, his mood, the color-he-wore hazel. She had to look away from his gaze, but that was so much worse. Anywhere else, and she wasn't just dizzy. She was freefalling. Her stomach was floating up and her mind was spiraling to a depth she refused to go in his presence.

"Yes, and sorry for the delay. I should be fine. Ever since. . ." Cassie started to explain. Then she changed her approach so she wouldn't have to mention her shoulder and near-death experience. "Well, let's just say I'm not as energetic as I used to be."

"Okay, well . . . we can try to slow down. But just a little!" he teased, helping to her feet, both of her hands in his.

The contact lingered. Their eyes met again, and just as abruptly, he broke the connection and they resumed walking. But, not more than a few steps later, he reached back. His palm opened. It was an offer to take his hand. And she gladly accepted.

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