I lean over my phoenix and clench my jaw until it feels like my entire body’s locked in. I watch the gap start to shrink. We burn through corners and tear down straightaways.

I hope they see my name getting closer and closer and closer.

I’m coming for them.

Chapter 38: Gig’s Wall

Bastian leads us deeper into the mountains.

I have only visited once, for my cousin’s wedding, but I never forgot the taste of mountain air. It’s sharper and colder and thinner. We start through a valley and only the risen sun can shake the night cold from our bones. No single mountain reigns in the Gravitas. They’re a brooding group of iron giants. As morning sweeps the fog clear, I see their dark shoulders already surround us. The first valley looks green and healthy, but ahead are the warning signs of a stark world. Here, the Empire’s rebels rule their own kingdoms.

At least, that’s what I always believed.

Bastian moves us like ghosts. Two of his men range ahead, scouting and reporting back. He shuts up laughter and noise until the trees strangle any sight of the desert behind us. I can’t help glancing over at him. Every stride he takes is confident, like he’s always known he’d be escorting an enemy of the state through these mountain passes. When he notices me watching, I pretend to be fascinated by the metal arm pumping and gasping at his side.

“I’ve never seen engineering like that.”

“Stole the design from the Longhands,” he explains. “I lost the arm when I was a kid. Let’s just say I’ve tested out a lot of prosthetics. This one’s the most fun.”

He throws a quick signal to his second in command. I watch as the man strides out ahead, taking point, and Bastian makes a deliberate effort to fall back and walk beside me. I try to bury the nervous feeling in my chest with curiosity.

“Why not ride?” I ask. “We’d get where we’re going in half the time.”

Bastian shakes his head. “Not all of my men are horsed. Even if they were, phoenixes leave trails we can’t hide. We might raise them up as ours, but they’ll always belong to the Ashlords. Sometimes it’s better to go on foot if you don’t want to be followed.”

“And you really think they’ll follow me?”

He nods. “You stole two hundred thousand legions on a national broadcast.”

Hearing him put it that way makes me smile. “I did, didn’t I?”

There’s that grin again. “Hell of a start to your career as an outlaw.”