The Groundhog landed a swift kick to his ribs, earning a gasp of pain as he fell onto his side. But that was all the damage he was able to deal. The next second, a bright light flashed into the fog, punching through the darkness. It was so sudden, all three of them paused to glance up, searching for the owner of the light.

  A metallic voice boomed through the gardens. “The fun is over, Groundhog. You can walk away, or I can drag you away.”

  Helios recognized the heavy footsteps crossing the gardens. In a second, S14 appeared by his side, his wrist cannon activated and aimed right at the bandit. Beside him, Patuú stood nervously, a blade in one hand, a shield in the other.

  “Papa!” Faire cried, scrambling over to him.

  Helios swallowed. “You made it.”

  “Did you really think I’d let you die to some talking rocks, Pooky?” S14 offered his free hand, helping the prince to his feet. “I was on my way up here when I saw the kid running from what I thought was a landslide. I didn’t realize the rocks were alive until after I blew half of them to dust. Then they unfolded themselves and ran back up the mountain.” He shuddered. “It was gross as heck. I promise you.”

  Leo let out a strangled laugh, wincing at the pain in his ribs. “That’s good,” he murmured. “That means Maka is—” he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he collapsed into the dirt, giving in to his nerves and his injuries before he’d even hit the ground.

  ------X------

  Helios opened his eyes with a groan, blinking at the harsh sunlight pouring into his tent. His entire body ached. His ribs screamed for mercy as he tried to sit up. A headache swelled in the middle of his forehead.

  “You’re awake,” said a familiar voice beside his bed.

  Helios blinked away the blurriness in his eye to find Patuú at his workbench, tinkering with a radio. “How long—”

  “Three days,” the old man said. “Fourteen carried you back.”

  “Faire?” he said, unsure what to expect.

  Patuú set down the radio and turned on his stool. It screamed from his weight; the screws stripped raw underneath. Helios could see the exhaustion in his eyes, a kind of tiredness that had nothing to do with sleep. He was a father who’d gotten news that his daughter had been attacked by bandits in the mountains in the middle of the night. And the only one there to protect her had been a one-armed prince.

  Leo sighed, clutching the blankets still covering his lower half. “I’m sorry.”

  Patuú leaned forward, scratching his red beard. “Sorry for what?”

  “For not being able to keep Faire safe.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Helios glanced up. “I did my best,” he offered sheepishly.

  “Son, you did more than I could ask for.”

  Leo blinked. “I got beaten up.”

  “You got beaten up protecting my daughter. She’s perfectly fine because of you.”

  He looked away, trying to ignore the fact that Patuú didn’t deny that he’d gotten beaten up. In truth, Helios had expected Faire to be of more use. She was a Plutonian, which made her stronger and faster than humans. And she was a mechanic with strong arms and legs and plenty of muscle to spare. Yet, she had cowered in the face of the bandits.

  Helios wrinkled his nose. It had been a scary ordeal; he couldn’t entirely blame her for her nerves. He’d been afraid too, and Maka had straight up lost it.

  “I lost my wife to bandits,” Patuú confessed. He sat on his stool, staring down at his massive hands liked a wounded bear. Subdued by the pain of the past.

  Helios had wondered about Faire’s mother before, but he couldn’t get himself to raise a question. It seemed a topic too sensitive for him to bring up. Now, Patuú was inviting him into his confidence, readily providing answers to the questions that’d been stirring in his head and he felt awkward. Like he shouldn’t be listening to this confession.

  “They were Groundhogs, just like the ones that attacked you,” Patuú said. “It was years ago, when Faire was only a child. But…” his voice trailed off as he buried his face in his hands, trembling with emotion. “She was there. She watched as they—as they—” he couldn’t finish the sentence, though Leo didn’t need him to.

  He stared down at his blankets, wishing he hadn’t heard that little story, thankful he’d never asked about the Plutonian woman before. It made sense now. Why Faire had frozen and reduced herself to a sniffling damsel in distress. The last time she’d seen bandits, she’d had to watch as they murdered her mother.

  “Did you have your revenge?” Helios asked, voice low and laced with anger.

  Patuú looked at him, blinking in surprise. Then he sighed slowly. “Son, I didn’t charge up that mountainside for revenge. I ran up there with your Skel to protect my family.”

  Embarrassed, Leo made it a point to look everywhere but at Patuú. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought since leaving the Pyramid behind. Old habits die hard.

  “I’m sorry. I meant—did you deal with the bandits?”

  “Fourteen got rid of most of the ones that’d been chasing Maka. But when you fainted, he moved to catch you and—”

  “He lowered his weapon,” Helios said, leaving the rest unspoken. Because S14’s weapon had been lowered, the bandit in charge got away. But the only reason Fourteen wasn’t aimed and ready was because Leo had passed out in his arms.

  “They won’t be back,” Patuú assured him. “Groundhogs are crude, but they’re not stubborn. If they don’t think it’s worth the fight, they’ll steer clear of the area.”

  Helios nodded, feeling somewhat better. The bandits wouldn’t be back anytime soon—at least some good had come of this.

  “Thank you, son,” Patuú said, his gratitude filling the silence. “Thank you for risking your life for my daughter.”

  Helios only nodded in response, unable to form any words. He couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat, replaying Patuú’s words in his head. Thank you, son. It was a simple word; one he was sure Patuú didn’t even mean in a serious way. Still, being called son summoned a fit of emotions Leo hadn’t felt in quite a while. He couldn’t even remember the last time his father had held such tenderness in his voice, such conviction.

  Patuú was twice as big and thrice as strong as King Rion, yet, he was weeping before the Crown Prince of the Vale Republic, unashamed to display such intense emotions. Helios didn’t even know how to react. He squirmed, trying to swallow his own feelings. Trying to understand what it meant to be called son. Somehow, the word meant so much more when it came from a man who wasn’t actually his father.

  And he’d said it because of Faire. Because Leo had risked his life to save her. But he hadn’t been thinking about Patuú or Faire’s dead mother when he’d picked up that rake. He was only trying to do what was right. Protect the people he cared about. Save his … family.

  The word made his features crinkle in confusion. Faire wasn’t his family. Maka wasn’t his kin. But he cared about them. He felt something for them, even though it was something he couldn’t describe.

  Maka, the goofy kid who could stir a mean pot of soup, was like his brother. Patuú was certainly like a father. But Faire … Helios exhaled slowly as he tried to categorize the burly woman. She wasn’t like a sister.

  Then, Leo wondered, what is she to me?

  The flap to the tent opened, letting in S14. He stopped when he realized what was going on, his red eyes glowing brighter at the sight of Patuú’s tears. “Oh—uh, sheesh—I’m sorry—”

  “Come in,” Patuú insisted, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “You’re not interrupting.”

  Fourteen glanced at Helios, waiting for approval. It was something the prince hadn’t seen him do since before his Core had been dismantled. But he gave a firm nod without even thinking, taking up his natural leadership without hesitation.

  S14 entered the tent. “I heard Leo’s voice over the lunch bustle.” He pointed to the side of his head where his ears would be if he were human. All he had was holes in his head instead. “I’ve got killer hearing.”

  Patuú chuckled. “What’s for lunch?”

  “The kid made a roast.” S14 held up a corn husk, revealing hot meat and rice wrapped up inside. “I brought some for the prince.”

  “Guess I’ll have to go get my own plate,” Patuú joked, rising to his feet. He gave the Soldier a pat on the back before leaving. “I’ll give you boys a moment.”

  S14 waited until Patuú was well and gone before he dropped the husk of food onto Leo’s lap and stood over him. “Welcome back, Pook.”

  Helios rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the food.”

  “It’s the least I could do for my little slugger.” He snorted a laugh. “I heard you charged that rock thing with a rake. A rake!”

  Leo stuffed his mouth full of meat so he wouldn’t have to answer.

  “Faire hasn’t shut up about it since it happened. Apparently, you’re Prince-Freaking-Charming now.”

  “Well,” Leo said around the rice in his mouth. “Patuú says the bandits won’t be back anytime soon. Technically, I saved the village.”

  S14 blinked down at him, then he crouched, bringing his red eyes level with the prince’s green one. “I’m the one who did the saving while you were passed out in my arms.”

  “I heard you let the leader get away.”

  “You mean the same leader you tried to beat with a stick?”

  Leo grumbled, taking another mouthful of meat.

  “Anyway,” S14 said, glancing sideways for a moment. “I came to talk about the bandits.”

  “What about them?”

  “Did any of them recognize you?”

  Helios chewed slower now, remembering how Maka freaked out and nearly exposed his identity. The bandits seemed confused by their shouting match, more interested in getting some new jewels rather than turning in an exiled prince.

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “But are you sure?”

  “How can I be sure? I didn’t see every bandit face to face—only the one I was fighting.”

  Fourteen looked at him for a long moment. “I think we should go, Helios.”

  It was the first time he’d used Leo’s real name. Most times it was Your Majesty or Your Highness, in a mocking tone. Plus, all the stupid nicknames too. Princey Poo, Pook, Pooky—Helios grinded his teeth just thinking of all the absurd pet names Fourteen had come up with so far.

  But now he was using his real name. Helios. Like this was serious.

  Leo swallowed. “Go where?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “Because of the bandits.”

  He nodded, still crouched in front of him.

  “Patuú said they won’t come back soon.”

  “I’m not afraid of them coming back,” Fourteen said. “I’m afraid of what they’ll do now that they’re gone.”

  “I don’t understand. They ran away. The village is safe—even safer if we stay, so we can protect them if the bandits ever return.”

  S14’s eyes dimmed as he squinted. “You don’t get it, do you? What if those bandits were spies? What if they report their findings to some scouts in the mountains?”

  Helios pursed his lips. “They didn’t find anything, Fourteen. There’s nothing to report.”

  “That’s not the point!” he said sharply. “The bandits are a wake-up call. Don’t you see? If one group found this village hidden in their precious fog, there’s a chance more will come. And every day you’re here is another day this place faces danger.”

  “Those bandits weren’t here for me,” Helios growled, his anger boiling. “They were here for jewels. My presence was a coincidence.”

  “And soon it will be an outright danger,” Fourteen said calmly. “You’re not thinking straight because you like these people. But if you truly cared, you would do what needs to be done.”

  If you truly cared. The words pierced the prince’s heart. Because he did care—he’d cared enough to put his life at risk and face a bandit armed with nothing but a rake. But when it came to the decision of leaving, his care for the villagers seemed to stop short. It wasn’t enough to make him leave. Because he was selfish. He wanted to be in the village more than he wanted to protect it.

  Helios bunched his shoulders in agitation. If you truly cared. He did care, he would swear he cared. That was why he exhaled slowly and said, “Give me a few days to say goodbye.”

  Chapter Eight

  Bastion stood at the edge of the camp, peering through the darkness at the men and women around him. Tents jutted from the earth, pointed tips dotting the desert, small fires glowing in the night. They would sleep hungry tonight, just as they had the night before. The journey had been grueling. Dragging carts over rugged terrain, struggling to find food, constantly searching for reasons to keep going. It was difficult. Especially when you were the one in charge.

  Bastion could feel all their eyes on him. Blinking through the inky shadows of the night, glaring at him, hating him for dragging them out there. Some had even accused him of being a turncoat, leading them into the wilderness to kill them. The accusation was so absurd, it almost didn’t bother him. Almost.

  “They don’t hate you as much as you think,” X5’s voice came from behind.

  Bastion turned just enough to glimpse the Skel over his shoulder. “Would it mean anything to you if I said I hate them about the same amount?”

  X5 made a noise, something like a chuckle. “There isn’t a hateful bone in your body.”

  “I’ve had a few bones replaced over the years,” Bastion told him. “You’d be surprised.”

  Now X5 did chuckle, stepping fully into his view. “You need to sleep. I haven’t seen you rest since…” his voice trailed off.

  Neither of them had spoken about the incident since X5 had stumbled back into their camp, angry and yelling. Bass shivered at the memory, recalling the Guardian’s glowing eyes and how they seemed to burn into the Soldier he’d called reckless.

  S187 had killed three Purebloods and a Guardian unit. The action would have gotten her dismantled and destroyed if she were anywhere else, but out in the middle of nowhere, the only punishment they could offer was a set of restraints and strict supervision.

  Bastion took a slow breath. “I’m guessing Annie is on guard duty now.” They had placed the two Skel they could trust in charge of keeping an eye on S187 at all times. That made it more difficult to secure the perimeter of the camp, but with the Savish forces scrambling and the Vale platoon still lingering near the border, the Rebellion was able to slip out of the forest and into the desert undetected.

  X5 nodded, clutching his weapon. “Thought I’d come check on you before I secure the camp’s perimeter.”

  “I’m doing fine,” Bastion said curtly. He knew where this was going. The same place it always went.

  “You aren’t sleeping. And you’re barely eating—”

  “No one has been eating. We went through the last of our rations two nights ago.”

  Code waited a moment, like he was taking his time. Trying to be gentle. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

  “It was my idea for her to go along. Even after you and Annie had spoken against it.”

  “We didn’t want her to go because we didn’t like her,” X5 confessed. “No one could have guessed she would do what she’s done.”

  “Still…” Bastion said, digging the toe of his boot into the sand.

  “If it helps, no one even knows about the ordeal except the four of us. No one blames you except you.”

  That didn’t help. Because it didn’t matter that no one else knew. He knew. And he blamed himself. And he hated himself.

  Bastion had lost people before—spending ten years on the run as the leader of a rebellion wasn’t a job that guaranteed life or safety. But lately, it seemed every decision he made led to some sort of trouble. He had waited too long to strike back when they were at the elementary school and had allowed Prince Helios to attack their base, murder a good part of their team, and turn X5 rogue. He had sustained horrible injuries fighting rogue-X5, which had left him bedridden while Pearl took over. That was when they lost two more members of their team.

  It had been a difficult mission to begin with, and Bastion didn’t blame Pearl or X5 or anyone … but himself. He should have been there to think things through with the team. He should have been there to lead them. But he wasn’t. And when he’d finally gotten back on his feet, he’d led the remaining Rebels into the forest to die—according to them.

  At his request, S187 had gone on the mission and murdered four people.

  There was so much blood on his hands—blood that belonged to his own brothers and sisters.

  Bastion exhaled. “Do you know why I believed in Prince Dima?”

  X5 shifted like the question had caught him off guard. “Because you believed God gave His grace to everyone. That we’re all equal because of it.”

  He laughed. “It wasn’t that deep, honestly. You see, there was this girl I liked. A photographer hired to capture my trips as I travelled the nations.” He rubbed the back of his head, smiling at the memory of this mysterious woman. “Her name was Laral. And she was beautiful. Light brown skin and dark hair gathered about her shoulders. I was smitten from the moment I first saw her. But … we couldn’t be together. Because she wasn’t a Pureblood.”

  Bastion glanced up at his old friend, trying to see if he was listening. Trying to see if he was judging him. “She was a mix of things. Uranian grandmother, Plutonian father, even a cousin who was half-Martian.” He shrugged sheepishly. “But I didn’t care. She was beautiful to me. Beautiful because she was Alien. When she stood in the sunlight, her skin glimmered like she was studded with a thousand diamonds. And on her back, she had these … wings. Little, fluttering wings. Like a living fairy.” He swallowed. “I told Dima about her one day. At the time, we were just boys talking about girls. But Dima got serious. Said there would have to be a change for Laral and me to be together. But not just a change in the customs of courtship, the change had to impact the entire Pyramid. And it had to start with the Skel.” Bastion paused to chuckle. “He was always adamant about the change beginning with the Skel. He said, If we can get the ones at the top of the Pyramid to recognize the ones at the very bottom, then everyone in between will find equality, too.”

 

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