Duchess strutted to the wheel at the front of the ship, and her crew scattered. Demons tugged on ropes, and the sails streaked back up along their posts to flap in the wind. The ship jolted off the ground and swung back and forth. Below us, the sand and forest weaved in and out of view. I braced myself for an onslaught of nausea.

Isalio tore his gaze away from the other Demons to glance at me. "You ok, Rem?"

"Yes," I said.

And strangely, it was true. The nausea I had anticipated never came. It must have been another effect of the lifeforce Isalio had just given me; even though the ship now wavered hundreds of feet above the ground, I still felt like I was anchored to the ground.

Or maybe like I was anchored to the sky.

The last time I had ridden a flying Demon ship, I had battled both queasiness and rage. Now the rage was hard to remember because each time I looked at the former object of my turmoil—Isalio—entirely different feelings fluttered in my chest. And oddly, I also no longer experienced the sickness that usually accompanied movement.

Of course, I still feared whatever was going to happen when we reached the Mantle, but I could think of nothing that I could do about that right now since we needed to do our planning with the Duchess and she was currently busy steering the ship. So this time I was able to focus on how the ship operated.

I watched in bemusement as the Demons lined up at either side of the ship to grab the oars. How could those oars steer the ship or propel us forward? And how could those measly sails keep this giant ship in the air? Then I looked closer, and I noticed a flicker of electricity that leaped from the Demons' hands to the churning oars. Each downward thrust of the oars whirred with a force far greater than muscles alone could contribute, and the tattered flags rippled in a wind far greater than the one overhead.

"Are the Demons giving the ship lifeforce?" I asked Isalio.

"No," he scoffed, but then he frowned. "I mean, I don't think they would—"

"Yes," said the Duchess, who had just left the helm to rejoin us, startling both me and Isalio. "These ships can't operate without lifeforce from Demons, just like warpers can't operate without Guardian lifeforce."

That last part caught me off-guard. Guardians didn't give warpers lifeforce... did we?

"How do you know this?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Most Demons don't much care how everything works as long as we remain most powerful. But everyone aboard this ship has pledged not to steal lifeforce anymore, so I've been looking at a lot of old books and talking to the oldest Demons and humans I can find, trying to rediscover things we've all forgotten."

I swallowed. "That almost sounds like what Borgal claimed, but he said you were researching those things to help Isalio defeat the Morgabeast."

"Hmm. Well, that was definitely part of my research, too. And I suppose any good liar fools people using a lot of truth."

I breathed a heavy sigh. That was definitely the case with Borgal—even after all this time, I still didn't fully understand how much of Borgal's story was true. He couldn't fake the horrific shape of his own body, could he?

"But I don't get it," said Isalio. "If Demons give lifeforce to their ships and Guardians give lifeforce to their warpers, how are we not all half-dead by the time we reach our destinations?"

She tipped her head. "I suppose we're taking as much as we're giving."

He raised his eyebrows. "Taking from what?"

"The ship requires lifeforce, but it also gives it back. It's an endless loop."

Isalio and I both tilted our heads, and I thought we were probably following the same train of thought—but our next question demonstrated the difference in our greatest concerns.

"Is there any way for Demons to replenish lifeforce without stealing?" I asked.

Meanwhile, Isalio's next question was, "Are you sure every Demon on this ship is loyal to you?"

She pointed at me. "As far I know, no—unless they have a beast like the Rogabeast, which is very rare." Then she pointed at Isalio. "As far as I know, yes. And I know a lot about each of the Demons on board."

Isalio scowled. "Do you really? Did you know they would sniff at Remgar like fucking animals?"

She flipped out a palm. "Eh, they're low on lifeforce, and he smells fantastic. Any formerly meat-loving vegetarian would enjoy the scent of the world's best steak." She shot me an apologetic glance. "Sorry about the crude analogy."

I furrowed my brow. "Do I really smell that good to Demons?"

"Yes," said the Duchess, while Isalio huffed, "No." Then they exchanged a hard glance, and the Duchess sighed, "No," while Isalio bit out, "Yes."

"Why?"

They both shrugged.

"Maybe has to do with that prophecy Isalio mentioned," the Duchess suggested. "'Only he who smells most delicious can save the world,' or whatever."

"That was not quite—"

She waved off my response. "Right, right, we can talk more about that later. Now we're arriving at the Mantle soon, so we need a plan. How were you imagining this fight going down?"

Honestly, I had been avoiding imagining it—mostly because each time I allowed my imagination to take over, I saw everyone already dead or captured. Then I imagined myself freezing, or incapacitated by the Sidabeast...

"Is there any way for a Guardian to bypass the Sidabeast's howl?" I asked. "Like, what if I"—I winced at how juvenile this suggestion sounded—"plug my ears?"

"If you plug your ears, you'll still hear too much, and you won't be able to use your arms for fighting," said Isalio. It was again painfully obvious, but at least he wasn't laughing at me. He turned toward the Duchess. "Do you have anything he could put in his ears to block the sound? Would that work?"

She rapped her fingertips together, a clicking of long crimson nails. "We might have something that can at least slow the howl's effect. Let me see what I can find."

The Duchess whipped around and jogged off to find something. I took the opportunity to ask something that I knew Isalio wouldn't want anyone else to hear.

"The Duchess said the General will be there. Do you think you'll be able to fight him?"

Isalio scoffed. "Why wouldn't I? I'm the Lord of the Night, and Danif is just..."

His answer reaffirmed my fear—both because he was unable to finish that sentence and because he only referred to himself as the Lord of the Night when he felt most insecure. The sentence should have ended with 'he's just a power-hungry nobody,' but that wasn't true. Because the King and maybe even the Queen seemed to value Danif more than their own son—and because Danif had created 'the Lord of the Night' from a boy who thought he was unremarkable.

"He's very good at manipulating," I said, carefully.

Isalio shook his head. "Yeah, but he's not... I mean, I'm not really... it was a long time ago that he—"

He glanced at me again, and whatever he saw silenced him. I wasn't sure what he saw on my face, but I was more sure than ever that my earlier concern was valid: there was a reason Isalio couldn't banish the nightmare beast in the forest.

Danif still held power over him.

"Ah," I said.

That was all I said, yet hurt flashed across his face. "Remgar, you know I would choose you over him."

"I know you would choose me over yourself. I also know you've chosen him over yourself. But between me and him, I really don't—"

"I hate him." His eyes flashed, agreeing with his statement.

"So you will kill him, if you get the chance?"

He sucked in a shaky breath. "I doubt it will come down to that."

"I doubt it won't come down to that."

He licked his lips as if to prepare another reply, but before he could say anything else, the Duchess returned.

"Here." She extended a palm toward me with two shiny fluffballs. "This is the best I could do with what we have aboard."

I plucked the pieces of fluff from her hand. "What are these?"

"Don't ask what you don't want to know." She snapped and then twirled her pointer finger as if to physically circumvent my question. "Tell me about the Mantle."

As I stuffed the makeshift-earplugs in my ears, I asked, "Didn't you live there for a while?"

Her voice dropped a little quieter. "I imagine it's quite different now. I was one of the first to join the new habitation there, so there were only a dozen of us—a few Demons, a few Guardians, and several humans who disliked the power structure of the place they lived." She watched me as she spoke, gauging my reaction. "Did you hear all of that?"

I sighed. "Every word, though at least it's quieter than before. Anyway, there are only five Demons there now, and at most thirty human fighters, including the ones from Sitaklasa."

She cringed. "Not much of a fight for the six army ships I saw leaving the Palace. We have one advantage, which is that we know the whole palace army is there, and they don't know we're coming. So, here's what I'm thinking we should do..."

She rattled off a plan. Isalio and I both listened quietly—until she got to the part about what I would do.

"I can do more than that," I insisted.

The Duchess rolled her eyes. "I'm still skeptical about whether those earplugs will help you. Besides, you saw how the Demons here reacted to your scent. We need you somewhere safer so Isalio can focus on fighting instead of just protecting you."

I frowned. "But I have to be here for Isalio in case he faces the General."

"And you don't have to be there for your father?"

"Well..."

That was a question I didn't know how to answer, and before I could even try, the Duchess's attention was averted; the Demon steering the wheel flagged her over. When she left, Isalio turned toward me once more.

"Just remember, you don't have to be a hero," he told me. "The main thing you need to do is stay safe."

I frowned. "You should be telling yourself that."

"You don't need to worry about me."

"I always need to worry about you."

Zap.

We both wheeled toward the front of the ship, where the Duchess had just fired the blaster at an incoming Demon soldier, who spiraled downward, black cloak dragging in the air above. The Demons on our ship clapped, and the Duchess flicked a lock of silvery hair over her leather-clad shoulder.

I wheeled toward Isalio. "You said Demons were immune to the blaster."

"If that amount of electricity hit me, it would do pretty much nothing, but for an average Demon, it's about like getting shoved." Then he swept a glance up and down my body and modified, "Although I have a feeling that shoving you would also do nothing."

Then several other Palace soldiers followed the first. Black cloaks rippled, moth-wings beat the air, and mouths gaped in sharp-toothed snarls. The Duchess spun around the blaster and fired at the closest one, but this bolt was weaker than the first—perhaps the electric blaster was still charging, since the light over the rod appeared much dimmer this time—and the zap knocked the soldier back for only a few seconds. As the blasted Demon recovered, several of her companions joined the attack. I counted five, six, seven Demon soldiers—far too many for the blaster.

I grabbed my mace and lurched a step forward, preparing to fight, but then a blinding light flashed on my left. A sphere of electricity surrounded Isalio. A second later, that power surged outward and splintered into a dozen rays, striking down every one of the approaching Demons.

This time, their descent had no spiral. This time, they plummeted.

"However," Isalio commented, casually, "That amount of electricity can kill a Demon."

He sounded so superior that I almost wanted to punch him—even if only to warn him that he wasn't nearly as invincible as he thought he was. But when he swayed a little, I knew that no matter what confidence he managed to project, he already understood his own limitations. So instead of taking him down a notch, I gripped his hand and pushed lifeforce toward him.

"Let's land our ship fast!" the Duchess barked at her crew. "Aim for sixty degrees decline."

The ship plunged downward, and my stomach flung into my throat. Isalio squeezed my hand and shot lifeforce back toward me. For a moment, his power steadied me—but when I peeked at what lay beyond, my stomach lurched again.

There was no place for the Duchess's ship to land. The six Palace ships already covered the entire space between the trees.

"What will we do now?" I asked Isalio.

Before Isalio could speak, the Duchess answered my question: she steered us right into one of the Palace's ships.

I wasn't sure whether to try to stop her or cheer—and there was no time for either of those reactions. There was only time to obey the Duchess's command.

"Hold on to something!" she screeched.

Most of the crew grabbed the sides of the ship, while Isalio and I clung to the posts where the sails hung.

Wood splintered, and metal screeched.

I ducked down and covered my ears—and I saw Isalio do the same. But the thunderous roar still rattled my eardrums, a vomiting explosion of wreckage as we plowed straight through one ship and into another. Boards snapped, flags shredded, and pieces flung askew like a disrupted nest of hornets.

Then the bow of our ship cracked, throwing us all off-balance.

We creaked to a halt near a line-up of prisoners onboard the largest ship. Our collision had sliced right through the thick metal bar they were cuffed to, and the prisoners quickly slid their cuffs over the bar to free themselves. The Duchess's makeshift army cheered, though I wasn't sure whether it was because we had freed prisoners or because we had survived. But instead of cheering, the Duchess shot her crew a hard look.

"That was very good luck," she yelled at her crew. "Don't try that at home!"

The human prisoners darted toward the edge of the now-destroyed ship and began to climb down. However, the Guardian prisoners remained crouched, hands grasping their ears. Then I registered what they were hearing—even with the ear plugs, the Sidabeast's screech sapped away my strength

When I started to stagger, Isalio gripped one of my shoulders and shoved more lifeforce toward me.

"Go find your father," he ordered.

Though the howl remained just as loud, his lifeforce gave me the power to stand tall once more.

"Take them all down," I ordered.

"I'll try," he promised.

"Especially the General."

That command should have been met with an even stronger statement of commitment, but he swallowed hard and looked away. I wanted to kiss him. Instead, I snatched his hand and sent him back as much lifeforce as I could.

I leaped off the wrecked ship intending to follow the Duchess's plan, but the moment I hit the ground, a dozen Demons converged on me.

At first, I fought back.

I snatched my mace and lashed out at the nearest Demon, who crumpled under the blow. After knocking another Demon off her feet, I stopped to analyze the battle. Like the last time Isalio had given me lifeforce, I could take in far more of the battle than I ever had before: the Demons hurtling toward me, the ones dragging Guardian prisoners up a ramp onto a ship, and the ones who now engaged the Duchess's ragtag army. I recognized Bakvar among the prisoners, strapped to a post on the largest Palace ship.

And I saw the carnage—dead bodies piling high in places, macabre obstacles for those still fighting.

Nausea slammed my gut. So many dead bodies... and most did not wear the black cloak of the Palace army. Were Andradkut and Eranea among the dead? Fraschkit? My father?

But right now, I couldn't waste time on the fallen; the Sidabeast's howl continued to pierce my ears, and the invincibility Isalio's lifeforce had granted me was quickly depleting. So, I covered my ears, ducked my head, and plowed toward the Mantle.