Nikolai stripped off his jacket and broke into a run. He would gather Squallers, Sun Soldiers. They could aid with the search for survivors. He knew his flyers would already have departed from the Gilded Bog and Poliznaya to patrol the skies for more signs of the enemy. He would have to issue blackout warnings. They were in place at the shipyards and bases that could be considered military targets. But now every Ravkan town and village would have to snuff out their lanterns and find their way in the dark.

As Nikolai approached the Little Palace, he saw the Fabrikator workshops and Corporalki laboratories had been completely obliterated, but whatever research they’d lost could be excavated or replicated. He spotted Tolya’s massive frame in the crowd. He was about to call out to him when he registered the tears in Tolya’s eyes, his hand pressed to his mouth.

There were Squallers trying to clear the rubble. And Genya was with them. She was on her knees in her golden wedding gown.

He muttered something about nose cones and then vanished.

Dread crept into Nikolai’s heart.

“Genya?” He went to his knees beside her.

She clutched his sleeve. For a moment, she didn’t seem to recognize him. Her red hair was thick with dust, her face streaked with tears.

“I can’t find him,” she said, her voice lost, bewildered. “I can’t find David.”

THE MAKING AT THE HEART OF THE WORLD

19

MAYU

MAYU WAITED. She was good at it. She’d had to be. A soldier’s job was to fight; a guard’s job was to remain watchful.

“There’s an art to it,” her old commander had said. “Your human mind may wander, but the falcon’s eye remains keen.”

She peered out the window of the airship. She couldn’t see much in the dark, and she didn’t know where Tamar and the princess had gone. They hadn’t seen fit to tell her the whole of their plan—another reminder that, though she’d played the part of royalty, she was no more than a bodyguard, valued as much for her loyalty and her willingness to obey as her talent with a sword or a pistol.

Why the detour? she wondered. What if Queen Makhi made it back to the capital before them? But she’d always followed instructions, abided by the rules, so she sat, and she waited.

“A teacher’s pet,” her brother Reyem had called her, and he was right. She loved praise, had thrived on any little bit of it. Because she’d always known Reyem was the better fighter.

It wasn’t just that he was stronger and faster, but his instincts were more alive.