"Mom," I tried.

She didn't answer me. She watched Elías lie in a puddle of his blood, and all there was to hear was her breathing and mine.

"Mom, I'm so sorry," I said.

"He loved you very much," she whispered.

She closed his eyes. Then she stood, lifting the sword with her. She raised it in front of her, praying him.

"On but faith, it was your vow; your sword was mine to wield. No other fealty, just the Lord's and mine. It is your oath, my honor, your duty, our pain of death."

She was crying.

A sound from the yard breathed life into her thoughts; she looked at the fence. "We'll need to bar this," she said. "It's easier from outside."

"It's just the latch, right?" I asked. "Pointless if it only works outside?"

She shrugged. "The gargoyle is loose," she told me. "Elías was going to shelter us with it, by pushing it down. Give us time to react if needed."

"I see. Which one is it?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter now. We'll have to improvise. We could...." Mom wandered in her thoughts. "I'll push it," she said.

"But then you're stuck outside," I said.

The sounds of mechanical beasts, of people grunting, of my friends dying drowned us out. I listened to the castle burn. I listened to the horses scream. I listened for any sign of life, any sign of hope, any chance of anything.

Mother was in a daze. She didn't notice when I stepped ahead of her, until I had gone beyond the bars again and shut the gate.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "No, you'll–"

I twisted the latch.

She scowled. "Unlock it. Now," she ordered.

I shook my head. "Go back inside," I told her.

"Are you crazy!?" she yelled. "Open this gate right now!" Her hands wrapped around a bar each and shook it. Then she started reaching for the handle.

I hurried to try one of the gargoyles. It didn't move.

"Now, Eliza!" she called. "Open this right now!"

"I'm sorry!" I said. I tried the other; it creaked. "Go to the others. I'll be alright," I said.

"What do you think you'll accomplish out there!?" she cried. "It isn't safe!"

"I don't know!" I said.

"You're mad with grief!" she said.

I used my weight to shift the block; the sentry came crashing into splinters, breaking apart and piling in front of the metal, forming a tiny wall. "I have to go, Mom," I said. "I love you so much."

"Absolutely not!" she cried. She shook the bars another time, then again; they moved less with the stone. "Goddammit, Eliza Rose! You open this gate this instant, and you get your ass inside!"

"I can't!" I said. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to fight! Will is fighting! Ask is fighting!"

"No! You're unprepared for this!"

"Go," I told her. "Barricade yourself; you're the Queen. Our people need you!"

"I need you!" she begged. "I cannot lose you; you're my life, Eliza!"

I took a shaky breath. "I can stop them," I said. "At least I think I can! I-I have to get on top."

"No," she muttered. "No, no, no, no!"

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm certain I have to try. I just have to... I have to be brave," I told her. "I have to help! Daddy–"

"Daddy wants you in here with me!"

"He says–" I gasped a couple of times. "He says the only time a man can be brave is when he's scared."

"Your father is a madman; I married him for his looks, not his mania!" she cried.

"No, you didn't," I laughed. "You married him because he is brave and he is righteous, and he is your soulmate, and– I– Mama! Right now, my soul's mate is out there!" I pointed. "He's fighting. For me. For my home. For you. Just like Elías. Just like Ser Willoughby. I cannot let them die. I can't let them die without... I have to tell the Duke I love him!"

"There will be time to tell him this when you are safe!" she sang. "But it is not here! No man wants to hear declarations of love whilst he is fighting for his life!"

"I love you," I said. "I love you and I'm sorry. Please don't be mad!"

"Don't be–? I'm furious!" she yelled.

I started to walk away, nearly tripping. I pulled the hem of my skirt enough to see a willow's stamp—Elías' blade.

"Eliza!" Mother cried.

Elías' blade was lighter than anything I'd carried before. I had used it a few times during practice, but forgotten how fluidly it went with every sort of move. When I leaped, it leaped; when I crouched, it was not hard to hold in place. It was sharp, which made it easy to cut a line in the gown, relieving me of the mermaid's shape and granting the ability to run. And run fast.

I sprinted across the field near the stables, closing in on the castle's door. There were bodies fighting each other everywhere I looked, but no matter where my eyes traveled, I wasn't sure who was who. With the smoke that hung in the air, it was impossible to tell. On occasion, I would catch the sight of someone's dressy blouse or a raggedy sort of cloak, and I could guess, but there was no bronze.

I waited for a group of men to vault past me off the steps and into the brawl. When they were gone far enough, I hurried inside, my blade at the ready. It was eerily quiet in the hall, save for the sound of boots littering upstairs.

I lost my shoes, kicking them beneath an upturned chair, and I crept toward the foyer. My feet were cold upon the tile but silent, which is all I wanted. Somehow, by God, or chance, I made it down the corridor where my mother's study was. I was near the stairs when I heard a familiar huff.

"Daddy?" I whined.

I glanced at the steps, then back the other way, where I heard him moan again.

"Daddy!" I hissed. I was certain.

I started scouring the chambers until his voice grew louder. When I opened the dining room, shattered plates dusted the floor in porcelain. They crunched beneath his shoes as he steadied himself at the helm of the table.

"Daddy!" I cried. I ran to him. I cut my sole, but didn't care.

Ser Willoughby turned from where he stood in front of him; he was patching my father's wound.

"Daniel," he said. "Tell me infection has set in, and my daughter is not– oof!" He cradled me into his arms as I crashed into him. "Eliza, no, you cannot be here. Where is your mother? Is she safe?" He started searching me. "Why do you have a sword?"

"Elías' sword," Willough whispered.

We met eyes.

"Daddy," I said. "I have to get to the tower."

"No!" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You have to get back to the Crypt," he said.

"No, I–"

"Eliza," Willoughby said. "Your mother? Is she safe?"

"She's... I left her in the passage. She was safe when I...." I followed his eyes to the blade. "I'm so sorry."

"Why the tower?" he asked.

"The dragons," I swallowed, steeling myself. "They're... They're riders inside a cart."

"Yes, we know," he said. "But we can't penetrate their armor; they've got shields, it seems. It's near impossible to strike them while they soar."

"Yes, but," I scrambled for the words. "But we could; we could, if we got on top of them, we could penetrate them then. We would–"

He stared at me. "I see what you're saying," he said. "Löff had a similar idea."

I searched the room. "Where is the Duke?" I asked.

My dad touched my shoulder and shrugged him off.

"Where is he!?" I cried. "Don't coddle me!"

"He's outside, Rosie," Daddy said. "We only broke away because I was hurt. I had to stop the bleeding, is all." He smoothed my hair. "Your Duke is fine. He's with Will somewhere."

"O-Oh."

"But you must be anywhere else," he added. "I cannot function knowing you are–"

The door was damaged enough to scrape along the floor when someone pushed it open to come in. Willoughby took a pained, tired sort of breath as he turned to greet them. Another bandit.

"No rest, eh?" he asked. "Didn't I kill you? You all look the same, I guess."

Dad brought me closer. He whispered in my ear. "You'll get behind me; run when you have the chance. The closest refuge will be the chute in Laundry."

"I can fight," I said back.

"No."

"You let Willem fight!" I begged.

"If the girl wants to die, let her," the bandit said. "It makes no difference to me."

Willoughby drew his sword; he spun it once in a simple flourish.

The bandit knocked a vase off the far end of the table as he approached. "A knight," he took notice. "A well-dressed man and a little girl. I wonder who she could be." He knocked off a glass next.

Willough didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't bait the man.

"Daddy," I whispered.

"Everything is fine," he said, but he picked up his sword off the table. His hand pressed me toward the door. "We'll see you soon, Danny."

In the hall, Father led the way, but as soon as he'd turned toward the laundry, I stopped.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"How many people are hurt?" I asked.

"I don't have that number; I wouldn't tell you if I did."

"Elías is dead," I said.

"I know," he replied. "That is why you must—"

"I have to stop this," I said. "I have to try."

"Eliza," he urged. "You can't."

"Why not?" I begged. "Why not me? Why must it be you? Or Willem? Or Askar? Or anyone but me?"

"Because—"

"Because I'm a woman?" I cried.

"You wound me," he said.

"I may be a lady, but I live and breathe Oreia as much as any man!"

"It's not your sex that—"

"Then what?" I cried. "Why can I not die for my country?! Why must everyone die for me!?"

He swallowed me in a hug; his response spat into my mane. "Because you're innocent," he said. "It's not because you're a woman; it's not because you're young. It's because while the world burns around us, you're dreaming of volcanoes and dragons, of adventure and hope."

"Dragons caused all this," I whined.

"No," he grimaced. "No. Men caused this. Reckless men who would rather pillage cities than build them caused all this. Willem can fight because he– he's trained to fight; he's– he's angry enough– he's... I want you to stay my Rose for as long as you can."

I found his cheek. "Daddy, roses have thorns," I said. "I can bleed someone, too."

"I don't like that," he said. "What is it? You've got that look in your eye."

"I love you!" I said, then darted down the corridor, barreling toward the hidden stair.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled.

I flooded the hall, my feet pattering to the floor. I ducked beneath a suit of armor that had fallen against a cabinet, through the makeshift cove. Father was on my tail, though he was slower with his wound.

He called after me, "Eliza! Rose! Stop!"

But I didn't heed the warning in his voice. When the steps came into view, I skipped the first two, jumping to the third. I used my hands, careening me further and further, taking two, three, more at a time.

"You're out of your mind!" he cried.

I tore into the tower, attempting to close the door, but it caught on my book; I'd accidentally sent it wedged into the port.

I tried to breathe. I tried to fashion a sheath for Elías' sword out of the tattered tails of my dress. I wound and knotted it into separate chords, hoping for the best.

At the window, my fingers refused to cooperate as quickly as I wanted; I begged them to "Come on!" but when they didn't release the lock, I picked up the nearest object I could find and smashed it into the pane. A ceramic bust; some poet someone once knew; his face cracked my faint reflection, then shattered pieces of it over the rug. I cleared the rest of the glass with my sleeve.

"Eliza!" Father heaved. "The fuck are you doing?" he asked.

I took a deep inhale, then held the frame, facing the yard. "If I can get into the cart, I can disable the rider," I explained.

"Get down!" he ordered.

He tried to reach for me, but one of the dragons happened by. I closed my eyes and jumped, and for a brief, fleeting burst of freedom, all I did was fall.