head to toe in white chiffon. He drew two mechanized pocket automatics from his shoulder holsters, gritted his teeth, and fired. The weapons popped like cans of kernels over a flame, propelling waves of tin debris. I dropped down flat on my face. A cacophony of screams lifted off the wedding party, blood spraying everywhere, soaking the deck.
When the shrieking of the weapons halted, I peered up through the smoke. Torren’s face was a shell of gore and Fitz’s bridal attire was drenched in usurper blood. Half of the Duskmen lay dead. Emperor Perceval had taken bullets in his arm and shoulder. His guards surrounded him, shouting, “Down, down, down!” Nobles rushed the Duskmen, trying to get them between themselves and the interloper. The Duskmen were unable to open fire until everyone hit the deck. Fitz laughed maniacally and took this chance to flee.
The hijacked ship hovered at the railing. The glass doors slid open along the sides. In my head, I kept thinking, Please gods, let him make it. He ran hard, chest puffed out, legs pumping like piston rods. The copter’s huge propeller blew everything about and cast Fitz’s veil right off his head.
Duskmen fired on Fitz with their many pocket automatics. Bullets shredded his leg as he made a jump for the copter. He nearly tripped and went overboard, but Baker leaned out and yanked him up by the arm. I could not follow; the Duskmen were laying down heavy fire. The doors closed and the bullets reflected off the coppery sheen of the sky vessel. I caught a glimpse of Molly in the window as they flew away. Baker had saved her.
Reinforcements came up from below, bringing Dirk with them. Blood streaked the side of his head, running down from his eyebrow. The Duskmen shoved him down on his knees and held him by the scalp. My keen ability to go unnoticed gave me an advantage. I blended with the other nobles, watching from the outskirts of the crowd.
Maive knelt beside the emperor, running her hands over his arm and whispering strange words. The blood got thick like honey, and while his sleeve remained torn, his arm materialized as unscathed flesh. Perceval stood as if nothing had happened, but upon seeing his only heir in a pool of blood and brains, was too much in shock to speak.
“Your Grace,” said a Duskman, holding my captain. “This man escaped and killed three of our own when they tried to apprehend him.”
Emperor Perceval glared down at Dirk with a hatred I knew all too well. “Shoot his ship out of the sky.”
“No!” cried Dirk.
The men lifted a tarp and rolled a ballista towards the side of the ship, aiming it down at the Wastrel’s gasbags. They cranked a lever that pulled back on the slack. I shut my eyes, unable to watch them kill my brothers.
“Stop this at once!” Dirk yelled in his most commanding voice. “I’ll give you the prince! The prince of Elsace lives! In exchange for my men, he’s yours.”
“You’re lying,” said Perceval.
“I’m not! I swear it! The true prince will take back what you stole!” Dirk shouted. Sweat poured down his neck and his eyes were hollow with a fear that captains hide at all costs. A hush fell. Even Maive’s shell of smug composure was cracking.
The emperor shook his head. “Lies of a desperate man.”
My captain lifted his chin high. “Do you not see the truth in my face? My father was Lucius von Luftberg. I am he, Prince Derek Alexander Xavier, the last son of my family’s dynasty!”
The emperor gazed upon my captain’s face, narrowing his crinkly eyes. “I saw your head come off your shoulders. The princess was never found, but the prince we dragged into the square and executed.”
“A loyal servant of the crown gave his life in my place. Now here I stand, usurper.” All were in awe of him. “I was nineteen when you took the castle of Locwyn. You have held our nation captive, and I allowed it, too scared to face my responsibilities! I shall no longer hide from my destiny!”
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