The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth as I bit my lip to keep from screaming. The cavalry torches were no longer distant flickers; they were a wall of orange fire roaring up the mountain path, close enough that I could hear the rhythmic thud of a hundred horses. Alaric was a blur of motion above me, his blade clashing against a scout's spear in a shower of sparks that rained down on my hair.
"Get out from under there!" Alaric roared, his voice strained.
I can't. If I don't hammer this pin, we're just sitting ducks on a cliff.
The valve pin was jammed halfway into the bypass sleeve. My knuckles were raw, the skin shredded from striking the iron with a jagged rock. Every time Alaric moved on the floorboards above, the wagon groaned, shifting an inch closer to the three-hundred-foot drop. The nausea was a physical weight now, pressing against my throat.
"I'm almost—"
A heavy boot slammed into the dirt inches from my face. A scout had climbed over the side. Alaric didn't have time to help me; he was pinned against the boiler by two others.
This is it. We're done.
I scrambled out, the dirt stinging my eyes. The scout lunged, his hand reaching for my throat. I didn't reach for the shovel this time. I reached for the high-pressure release cord hanging from the side of the boiler—the one Alaric told me never to touch unless I wanted to be flayed by steam.
"Back off!" I screamed.
The scout laughed, a dry, ugly sound. "The King wants the girl alive. The Captain, not so much."
I didn't argue. I pulled the cord.
A jet of scalding white steam hissed out of the side vent with the force of a cannon blast. The scout didn't even have time to yell before the heat hit him. He fell back, clutching his face, his skin turning a blistered red instantly. The wagon rocked violently.
"Elowen! Stop!" Alaric shouted, throwing his weight against the boiler to steady it.
The steam cleared. The scout was a heap in the mud, and the rest of the cavalry had slowed their ascent, spooked by the roar of the "iron demon" on the ledge. I was shaking so hard the rock fell from my hand. My ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that drowned out the wind.
Alaric grabbed me by the front of my cloak and hauled me up. He didn't check for injuries. He didn't ask if I was okay. He slammed me against the side of the wagon, his face inches from mine, his eyes wild and bloodshot.
"You almost blew the tank," he hissed.
"I saved your life! Again!"
"You're a liability! I told you to run!"
"And I told you I'm not leaving without my machine!" I pushed back, my chest heaving. The cavalry was regrouping. In two minutes, they'd realize the steam was just a bluff. "Listen to me, Alaric. You want to get across the border? You want to survive this night? Then stop treating me like a prisoner and give me the keys to the secondary toolkit."
Alaric stiffened. "No."
"The bypass is jammed. I can't fix it with a rock and hope. Give me the wrenches and the lead sealant, or start praying, because your sword isn't going to stop a hundred heavy lancers."
"If I give you those tools, you'll have full control of the engine's combustion rate." He stepped closer, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. "You could blow us up at any second. You could lock the drive and leave me stranded."
"I could," I said, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "But right now, I'm the only one who knows how to make this thing move. You need a pilot, Alaric. Not a ward."
He's deciding. He's weighing his pride against our survival.
The first line of cavalry reached the base of the final incline. I could see the glint of their breastplates. They were lowering their lances.
"The keys," I demanded.
Alaric swore, a string of foul military slang that made the guards nearby flinch. He reached into his belt and ripped a small iron ring with three keys from his hip. He didn't hand them to me. He held them up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You play me, Elowen, and I'll make sure the boiler is the last thing you ever see."
"Just give them to me."
He shoved the keys into my hand. Our fingers brushed—a jolt of heat that had nothing to do with the engine. For a second, the chaos of the mountain disappeared. There was just the weight of the metal and the dangerous, suffocating reality that we were now equal partners in a suicide mission.
I didn't waste another second. I dove back under the wagon. With the proper wrench, the pin slid into place with a satisfying clack. I scrambled back up, ignoring the tear in my skirt and the blood on my knees.
"Fire it up!" I yelled.
Alaric slammed the coal into the grate while I worked the valves. I wasn't guessing anymore. I was tuning the beast. I opened the secondary oxygen intake, letting the fire roar into a brilliant, blinding blue.
The pressure gauge didn't just climb; it jumped.
"They're charging!" Alaric shouted, jumping onto the driver's seat.
The cavalry hit the incline. The sound of a hundred horses at full gallop was like an earthquake. I stood at the back, my hand on the main throttle, watching the lead lancer level his weapon at Alaric's back.
"Now!" I screamed.
I threw the throttle all the way forward.
The engine didn't cough this time. It erupted. The wagon lurched so hard I was thrown against the coal bin, my head hitting the iron with a crack that sent stars across my vision. The wheels spun, catching the dry rock, and then we were moving—not a slow roll, but a violent, screeching burst of speed that shouldn't have been possible.
We flew past the lancers. The horsemen scrambled to get out of the way as a cloud of black, sulfurous smoke blinded them. One horse reared, throwing its rider over the ledge.
"We're too fast!" Alaric yelled, fighting the steering lever as we hurtled toward the narrowest part of the gorge. "Elowen, kill the output!"
"No! If we slow down, they'll surround us at the bridge!"
"The bridge is rotted! It won't hold this speed!"
"It'll hold if we're fast enough to jump the gap!"
It was a bad decision. It was a human panic wrapped in a mechanical gamble. I knew the bridge was wood and ancient stone. I knew the weight of the boiler was over three tons. But the thought of Harrington's cells or Alaric's "safe house" made me pull the throttle even further.
I'm not going back to a cage.
"Are you insane?" Alaric looked back, his face pale as we rounded the final corner.
The bridge appeared out of the darkness—a narrow span of timber crossing a black abyss. It looked like a toothpick.
"Brace yourself!" I screamed, grabbing the iron rail with both hands.
The wagon hit the wood with the sound of a thousand trees snapping at once. I felt the floor drop out from under me. For a heartbeat, we were weightless, the roar of the engine the only sound in a world of gravity and shadow.
Then, we slammed into the far side.
The rear wheels tore through the last of the timber, sending the bridge plummeting into the canyon behind us. We skidded, the wagon tilting dangerously on two wheels before slamming back down onto the dirt of the northern border.
Alaric slammed the brakes, the wagon sliding fifty feet before coming to a dead stop.
Silence. Total, soul-crushing silence.
I slumped against the boiler, my chest heaving, my ears ringing so loudly I thought my head might explode. I looked back. The bridge was gone. The cavalry was stranded on the other side, their torches a frustrated line of fire in the dark.
Alaric didn't get up. He sat on the seat, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.
"We made it," I whispered, my voice trembling.
He turned around. He wasn't smiling. He walked toward me, his boots heavy on the wood, and grabbed me by the waist, lifting me off the floor. For a second, I thought he was going to throw me over the side. Instead, he crushed me against his chest, his heart hammering a frantic, broken rhythm against mine.
"You're a nightmare," he muttered into my hair. "A goddamn, brilliant nightmare."
He pulled back just enough to look at me. The romance wasn't a choice anymore; it was a consequence. He leaned down, his lips brushing mine with a desperate, sharp hunger that tasted of smoke and salt.
I didn't pull away. I reached up, my grease-stained fingers catching in his hair, pulling him closer. I hated him for the chain. I hated him for the lies. And I wanted him more than I wanted the engine to breathe.
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. He pulled the iron ring of keys from my hand and tucked them back into his belt.
"Don't think this means you're in charge, Elowen."
He stepped back and looked toward the dark, unknown forests of the north.
"The King just declared us both traitors."