That irked him.

Did he look like someone to be pitied? He was a god. “My citizens,” he began, the voice of the HIVE whispering at the back of his tongue, languid like honey, and it was so easy to stoke their fears. Humans hated things they didn’t undertand, so humans hated Metals. It was that simple, and their fear made them that much easier to control while his sister searched for her heart. Once she found it, not even the rage he stoked would save them, and by then there would be no one left to stop her. As he finished his speech, he told the audience, the lie sweet on his tongue, “Follow me, and I will lead you into the light!”

The crowd roared, a hundred thousand voices amplifying the song in his head. He relished in it. Reveled—

There was a flash to his right. A sound zipped past his ear, through his red hair, a bullet missing him by a fraction of an inch.

The HIVE whispered, Lower left, fourth building, street corner, and his gaze lowered to a rogue Metal with a high-grade sniper rifle.

The crowd below screamed and began to heave like waves in the sea.

The Metal aimed again in the chaos, cool and composed.

In a blink, he took control of the rifle. Electricity crackled over its charger, wires whining as it overheated—

The Metal fired again a moment before the weapon exploded in its grip.

He felt someone jerk him back from the side of the floating garden and force him to the ground. His gaze refocused on the man on top of him. Chilling blue eyes, brown—almost black—hair shorn short with a floral design shaved into the sides. A Valerio crest was clasped to his throat, knuckle rings glinting as he grabbed his shoulder.

“Your Excellence,” Erik Valerio said, “it’d be a pity if you’d gotten hurt.”

He shoved off the Ironblood and silently got to his feet.

The Royal Guard ushered the Ironbloods into the underbelly of the garden for safety, but he walked to the edge of the garden again and peered down to where the Metal had been.

It now lay broken on the ground, the explosion from the rifle having carved a hole into half of its face and chest.

They are growing bolder, said Mellifare, who had gone into the underneath with the guards and Ironbloods.

Let them try, sister.

The streets swarmed with panic. People fled for cover, trying to find who or what had shot at the Emperor. There were rebels in the crowd, too. Somewhere, festering like glitches in an otherwise perfect code.

“Your Excellence, seems like the public doesn’t like you much,” said the Valerio.

“They are few,” he muttered.

“Maybe there are more than you think.”

The Emperor gave him a sharp look, but the Valerio simply bowed and led him into the underbelly of the garden. The other members of the Iron Council were already gathered in one of the hallways, and they quickly genuflected at the sight of him, expressing gratitude that he wasn’t dead.