Jaw tight, eyes sharp, and hands ready for battle, Piers stayed where he was on the little island in the middle of the loud, zooming boxes. Buildings loomed over him like giants upon giants. More dragons soared overhead, their skywriting unrecognizable to him.

Worry thumped in his chest. If he knew what qualified as a threat here, his assessment of the situation would be far easier.

The last thing he remembered was traveling toward Castle Tarva to try—again—to talk to his brother Griffin and Griffin’s hot-headed harpy of a wife, Cat. They’d been holed up behind castle guards and high walls for days after successfully conquering a second realm and bringing Cat two thirds of the way to ruling all of Thalyria.

Fury stabbed Piers in the sternum. Cat’s warmongering and lust for power had nearly gotten most of his family and friends killed. One friend didn’t make it.

The knife in his chest twisted, and Piers growled, the sound covered by the terrible roar of the colossal city. Cat’s fault. All of it.

Piecing his jumbled memories together made other things fall into place. Everything until… Was it mere minutes ago? Hours?

Uncertain, he shook his head. His youngest sister Kaia had been with him on the road to Tarva City. They’d seen Griffin and Cat in the distance, riding out to meet them. He’d been so angry. So worried and angry. His family in danger.

What else happened?

He pressed his lips together. He had no idea. Where had that hot, dusty day gone? Where had he gone, for that matter?

There was no dust in Apple. Only stone, glass, and metal. Barely a tree. And no sun beating down, either. He shivered. It wasn’t I’m-going-to-die-within-minutes-without-shelter weather, but it sure as Hades wasn’t hot. Everyone wore odd, puffy garments that covered them from hips to shoulders.

And earlier today… He’d had a plan in mind. Something important. What was it?

Hating his lack of clarity, Piers tensed as the horseless wagons stopped and other people joined him in the center of the thoroughfare. They didn’t remain where he was, though. They kept walking toward the far side to where a small brightly lit striding man glowed pure white in a black box. More strange magic. He studied it, trying to understand the utility. The pedestrians gave him a wide berth as they passed, the kind you gave an unsavory ruffian or a drunkard covered in his own vomit and urine.

Scowling, Piers sniffed himself. Not fresh, but no vomit and urine. It could be worse.