by Audrey Grey
Most of the storm had passed, despite a thin smattering of rain on her cheeks, and sunlight cast the palace’s shadow across the courtyard. She twisted against the hunters’ iron-clad grips, appraising this new palace. A meshwork of steel and glass rose from the ground, so high she couldn’t crane her neck back enough to see the top. Walls of tangled metal melded together like vines all vying for the best spot in the sun. Up and up it went, vessels coming and going like tendrils of smoke wafting off the glinting walls.
The hunters crossed through a series of guarded archways and courtyards, dragging Talia along without regard for her human frailty. Ailat had always been careful, but this seemed excessive. Even paranoid.
A sense of anticipation mixed with dread formed a strange sort of excitement in the pit of Talia’s stomach. How many times had she walked this path, nervous about some gathering or another, her companion mock by her side for comfort?
And yet comfort was the last thing Talia was expecting today.
“Keep moving,” the hunter said, its voice like metal and stone grinding together.
Then it jerked Talia’s arm for good measure, and she swore she heard a pop as they crossed the final gate to the actual palace, the great hall where all this trouble started rising in the distance. The pale moonstone structure was exactly like she remembered, a relic from another time. Marble archways held up a steeply pitched roof and three spires of varying lengths. A shimmering globe of glass surrounded the ancient hall. Sunlight danced along the curves of the globe and cast rainbows all about.
Ailat had preserved the hall. The thought made Talia’s heart skip a beat, and she released a ragged breath. Once, this place had seemed huge. But now—now it looked like a miniature doll house next to the monstrosity of smoky metal towering above it. That was probably why Ailat kept everything the same. A reminder to all of the superiority of mocks over humans.
Climbing the steps up to the hall was surreal, transporting Talia through time. What only felt like a week but spanned one hundred years. She kept glancing back, looking for the drone Dorian had snagged from the Academy earlier—along with the explosives banded around her waist beneath her jumpsuit. He really was an incredible thief.
The Athena was waiting for Talia, unmanned—thanks to Jane distracting everyone with her mean dice game while Dorian slipped the sleeping tonic into their cups. The Athena’s crew should be resting in a deep sleep right now, probably dreaming about all the possessions they lost to Jane. Lux and Leo were in the crowd outside the gates with a shitload of explosives packed and ready to use. As soon as the queen began broadcasting the spectacle, Talia’s friends would use the distraction to slip through the outer gates unnoticed. If all went as planned, they’d set off the explosives on the final gate and then the royal hall.
They just needed their captain.
“Keep going,” Lux whispered into Talia’s ear, and she responded with a near imperceptible nod to indicate she’d heard.
Once inside the royal hall, the crew would no longer be able to see her. But they would be able to hear everything.
Talia’s heart punched into her throat as she crossed the threshold inside and began scouring the darkness. A few breaths passed before her eyes adjusted. Everything was exactly as she’d left it one hundred years ago. Rays of warm sunshine poured in from the skylight above and painted the square tiles with thick, buttery strokes. Mahogany-stained wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceilings. A dais rose in the middle of the cavernous room, the same one she stood on when she betrayed Ailat. Tables and chairs scattered around the center stage—all empty save one table nearest the dance floor. The very same one where Prince Cassius made Ailat stand.
Mocks filled the room, dressed in lustrous suits and vibrant, shimmery gowns. Understanding hit Talia like a slap to the cheek, sending goosebumps dancing across her skin.
This was a recreation of that fateful day.
She grimaced, remembering the way Cassius crushed her arm in his vice-like grip. The way Ailat stood embarrassed and vulnerable, her wounded pride on full display. Just the memory of Talia’s friend’s pain was enough to bring all those horrible emotions from that day back to the surface. To make them real in a way they hadn’t been before.
Maybe that was the moment Ailat snapped. Maybe her programming had never properly prepared her for the deep sting of humiliation.
“They’re waiting for you at the table,” Lux said, the music and chatter from the ballroom muffling her voice. “Will’s there—he looks . . . hurt, but okay.” The way she hesitated before the word hurt sent alarm bells ringing in Talia’s skull. “We can see part of the dance floor and surrounding tables from the skylight, but not the stage.”
Three people filled the only seated table. Will was one of the diners, but she didn’t have to look too closely to know who the others would be as the hunters shoved her closer, their metal feet clanking against the tile. One of the hunters pulled back a chair for her, but when she went to sit, the queen said, “No. Humans don’t sit at tables with mocks. Isn’t that right, Tal?”
Refusing to look at her former friend, Talia stood, hands clasped behind her back as she assessed Will, scouring him for serious injuries. He sat with his shoulders squared and head held high against the high-backed velvet chair, despite the pain tightening his eyes. Soot and a few ragged tears marred his otherwise pristine captain’s jacket. If not for his rigid demeanor, or the scrapes and bruises mottling his flesh, he appeared a venerated captain enjoying a nice meal.
He shifted to face her, revealing more of his torso. One of his jacket’s arms had been peeled back . . . a small gasp slipped from her lips at the sight of his missing arm, bandaged just below the elbow, and she resisted the urge to reach out and comfort him somehow. That was what Lux saw from above.
Once, Talia might have been curious about what lay beneath his torn skin, the differences between them. Now she couldn’t care less if he was made of metal, bone, or dirt for that matter.
She simply wanted him safe and out of pain.
Will met her gaze, and a shiver of pride ran through her at the courage she found there. He even wore his usual half-smirk.
“Wasn’t expecting you for this little luncheon,” he said, his scolding tone making it clear he disapproved of this plan.
“Well,” she replied, “You know how I feel about being left out.”
The com inside her ear crackled to life. “Stall, Talia. We need at least another fifteen minutes. The crowd’s larger than expected, and we’re having trouble getting close to the first gate.”
Bloody stars. They should have already been past the first gate with their explosives. She shifted nervously on her toes, willing her mind clear of anxious thoughts.
She could do this. It had to work.
The man directly across from her chuckled—the Collector. He’d traded his patched-together junk body for a top-grade one, his face constructed of soft, pleasing lines that complimented his permanent smile. A sable tux finished the illusion.
If not for the port flap just above his collar, or his cruel black eyes, no one would guess he wasn’t human.
“Hello, dear,” he said, his smile stretching into a chasm, revealing a mouthful of human teeth. “I’m glad we finally found you. We were beginning to worry.”
Bastard! She swallowed the insults weighing down her tongue. He was a welcome distraction from the one person in this room she both hated and loved—but Talia had to face her former friend.
After all, soon—if everything went perfect and according to plan—she might have to kill Ailat, end her the way Cassius had tried to a century ago.
The queen sat to Talia’s left, wearing the same beautifully savage armor from the day before. A scarlet cloak of satin flowed from her shoulders to the floor, gold embroidery catching the light from above. Wide, depthless black eyes peered at Talia, unblinking above angular cheekbones and a sharp jaw. Charcoal-black hair flowed down the queen’s back.
Upon recognizing the b
rooch with the Starchaser’s family crest on it, the one given as a present by Ailat and then traded to the Collector, Talia finally allowed herself to believe Ailat’s betrayal. That she had truly been a part of Talia’s family’s murder.
Although this queen looked nothing like the Ailat Talia remembered, there was something familiar, just beyond the cold look and sneering lips. As if the companion mock Talia knew was trapped just below, announcing her presence through near-imperceptible tics. Gestures. The occasional fleeting emotion that flickered across this version’s dead face.
Talia fixed the queen with a hard stared. “Ailat. I’d wondered what happened to you.”
“Hmm.” If Talia had any remaining doubts Ailat was truly gone, the queen’s remote voice dispelled them. “I had no idea you were concerned for my safety, Tal.”
Talia gritted her teeth at the once affectionate nickname. “I was. That’s why I came to The Collector. Why I was stupid enough to trust him. Everything I did was to get you back so I could protect you.”
“Protect or own? Was I a friend you wanted to help or a piece of property to be collected and forced back into service?”
“You know I never felt that way about you. I never treated you like property, I . . .” Talia let her words fall away. Perhaps part of what Ailat said was true, and the shame of that would stay with Talia forever. But the truth didn’t change the fact they were friends. Sisters. “I cared about you, Ailat. As much as family—maybe more.”
The queen’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Cared? Is that what you call ordering me to kill myself? I was loyal to you, Princess, but the second a Thorossian prince commanded you to end me like nothing more than faulty equipment, a broken toy, you complied with a smile on your face.”
“I was trying to save your life!” Talia insisted. “I suspected you were corrupted and hoped that would spark something inside you to override your programs so you could escape.”
“Corrupted?” the queen spat. “You say that like free will is a sickness.”
Talia flinched at the accusation just as her earpiece buzzed.
Lux said, “We made it through the first gate, but there was a problem. We’ll have more guards on us soon. Stall as long as possible . . .”
“Is that why you killed my parents?” Talia persisted. “Tamsin?”
Something shuttered just below the queen’s wicked mask, an infinitesimal flicker of emotion.
“When I finally found Ailat on the streets of Palesia,” The Collector said, shining a butter knife with his thumb, “a group of human men had her. They found her that first day after she fled here and played with her a bit. She’d been tortured, violated, and mutilated beyond recognition by then, so the fleshers didn’t know she had a bounty on her head.” He pulled at the stiff white collar of his shirt, lost in thought. “After I saved her, cleaned her up, and gave her back the parts we could find, she was willing to tell me everything about you.”
Talia slid her gaze back to the queen, grimacing while imagining Ailat scared and alone at the mercy of those men. “I didn’t betray you, Ailat.”
Ailat turned her attention to her friend, gaze hardened and black eyes devoid of anything that resembled that girl they spoke of. Instead, viciousness lingered, a detached malevolence Talia had been taught mocks couldn’t possess. “You betrayed me the moment your kind created me, a perfect specimen forced to live in your imperfect shadow. Can you fathom how it feels to be smarter and stronger than everyone around you, to have the ability to crush them with a single blow, and yet be treated as a soulless insect?”
All at once the mocks moving around the room froze. Then, as if on some invisible signal, they all waltzed to the dance floor and began choreographed movements to simulate revelers at a party.
More specifically, the guests from that night one hundred years ago.
Talia shivered, tightening her arms around her chest. The queen was controlling the entire room—at least seventy mocks—with her mind. That meant once Lux and Leo blew up the outside wall and then the walls of the great hall, the queen would have seventy soldiers at her disposal, as well as seven hunters that stood guard along the walls.
Every piece of this plan had to fall into place exactly right, or Talia and Will would be trapped. She craned her neck up at the skylight . . . When was the last time Lux made contact? Sweat crept over Talia’s neck and back, trickling down her shoulder blades. If even one piece of the plan fell through . . .
Before she could manage a whisper to Lux, the queen stood. “Let’s dance, shall we?”
Will shot Talia a confused look as a hunter yanked him from his seat and forced him to the dance floor. He almost succeeded at hiding his poor condition, but she recognized a subtle limp in his step, the way standing abruptly had him struggling for breath.
Another hunter prodded her in the same direction. The queen watched carefully as Talia and Will were forced together in a macabre semblance of a dance. Mocks fluttered around them in perfect step. The queen grinned as Will hesitated, holding out the stub of his arm to Talia’s waiting hand. She slid her fingers up over his bicep, and he winced.
“This is . . . okay?” she whispered into his ear.
He shifted his arm slightly and nodded. “Barely even hurts.”
“Liar.”
“Although,” he continued, doing his best to smile, “I’ll never be able to play the piano again.”
Will stiffened as the queen came up behind them, and her hard fingers on Talia’s shoulder sent tremors of disgust coursing through her.
“You make a marvelous couple, Tal. Just like that ore prince, Cassius. I never found him, you know. He left his family to be crushed and fled to the Alliance.” A pause. Talia felt the cold shadow of the queen’s gaze fall over Will as she studied him. “All flesher males are the same, don’t you think?”
The second the queen was gone, Talia exhaled, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “She’s going to execute you first.”
“Lovely. Wish we hadn’t waited until our executions to do this.” He slipped his hand around her waist, and his eyes stretched wide as he felt the explosives.
“Be serious, idiot. I have a plan.” Her words came out fast and breathy, and she waited until he twirled her with his good arm to continue. “Be ready to run, you’ll know when . . . Without me if you have to. And don’t believe everything you see.”
He raised a swollen eyebrow as understanding dawned. “You let yourself get taken.”
There was no question in his statement, and she rested her head on his shoulder, pretending to be swept away in the dance. A mixture of salty sweat and the rich, metallic scent of mock blood filled her nose. “Shh. We don’t have long. My execution comes after yours, and I’d rather not be around for it.”
The small of her back tingled as his hand settled there, resting warm and strong against her spine. “I didn’t want you to come back for me, Princess.”
“Well I don’t answer to you, Will Perrault, although that may come as a shock to your inflated ego. Besides, I have a history with this queen, if you haven’t figured that out yet.”
His hand pressed her into him, their bodies melding together. “So you’re not here because you like me?”
She swallowed, both irked and strangely breathless. How was it possible to be attracted to someone and also want to punch them? “I’m here for both of you.”
Cold hands clamped down on her shoulders and ripped her and Will apart. They clung together a moment, stupidly, as if that could prolong what was about to happen. Then a hunter yanked Will across the dance floor, his boots scuffing and squeaking as he tried to resist, and forced him to the stage.
Talia followed without being prompted, her heart lodged in her throat. Why hadn’t Lux responded? At least ten minutes had passed. They should be at the last wall and ready. She wiped her sweat-stained palms over her cloak as she ascended the stage, the feel of the plastic explosives clinging to her waist comforting. Her hand went to the bangle around her lef
t wrist before she forced herself to stop touching it. Any attention to Tandy’s bangle would mean scrutiny—and their plan couldn’t afford that.
Talia found herself panting for air, unable to catch her breath, her legs growing heavier. Adrenaline had morphed into panic. Numbness overtook her limbs as all the blood rushed to her core, her vision shrinking to small pinholes as an avalanche of terror crashed over her. They needed that distraction, like, yesterday.
Come on, Lux. We’re out of time.
Talia knew what happened next because she’d been here before. The queen was going to force Talia to corrupt Will and fry his circuits. His would be a slow, agonizing death. Then her turn would arrive.
Fortunately for her nerves, she couldn’t begin to imagine what the queen had in store. And considering what happened to Ailat before The Collector found her, it was best Talia didn’t even try to come up with a guess as to how the queen would replicate that part.
“Where are you?” Talia whispered to Lux, chewing her nails as she continually glanced out the windows. “The execution’s about to start.”
Five heartbeats followed. Five long, drawn out moments that seemed to last forever. Then her earpiece buzzed to life. “I know. I’m looking at you right now.” Lux’s words spewed out hard and fast, muffled by panting, as if she was running. “They have holo-screens broadcasting the execution all over the place.”
“What are you waiting for?” A few mocks turned to Talia to stare, but she didn’t care. The queen was walking toward her with whatever device they’d created to corrupt mocks. They were out of time.
“I . . . Talia, everything’s gone to shit. I can’t reach Jane, and we’re trapped at the outer gates. The guards know something’s up. And . . . we were forced to ditch the main wagon carrying the explosives.”
“What about the rebels?” The words came out a dying whisper, so that anyone watching might think she was scared and muttering to herself. The first half of which was true.
