I don’t understand, but in this moment, I’ll do whatever he asks. If he wants me to sing, I’ll sing. So I discard the blade and begin to hum “Yosef HaLevi’s Nocturne.” The cut in my arm knits together as I watch the effect of my blood slowly helping Rafe. He grasps my hands with his as I hum.

And then something in the air changes. I feel Rafe’s Ha’i doubling, tripling, amplifying to levels I would have never thought possible. His body trembles as his Sire healing kicks into overdrive.

Rafe gasps and sits up sharply, his wounds already sealing shut.

The sound of a trumpet forces my gaze up the cliff, where I see the Avant Guard assembled with what looks like a large crossbow the size of a truck. A figure breaks away from the rest, spreads their wings, and flies down to us. It’s Grey. He lands in front of Rafe, blocking him from any potential threat.

“Your Highness, I know you instructed the Guard to hold, but Simon flew up the cliff to alert us that you had been attacked,” Grey explains.

Simon? Flew all the way up the cliff? Good for him.

Grey draws a long sword, turning to glare at Kor, who is scrambling toward the submarine, Alfie and Roman right behind him. “Go ahead,” Grey yells after them, “board your vessel. The ballista will make quick work of it, and you.” We all look up to the cliff, where the Guard have aimed the giant crossbow—or rather, the ballista, another one of da Vinci’s original designs—straight at the sub. The three young men stop running, and Grey relieves them of their weapons.

Rafe stands confidently. Blood coats his chest from a wound that is now nothing more than a ragged scar through the eye of the dragon tattoo that guarded his heart.

He says to Grey, “You and all the Guard witnessed that despite what this man did, he also helped to save my life. Let that be considered when their fate is decided.”

Grey bows his head. “We will inform the Council.”

Rafe turns to Kor. “Are you willing to cooperate now?”

Kor looks up at the Guard and then at me.

“You don’t have a choice,” I say, trying to communicate with my eyes that he should trust me.

Kor nods.

Rafe asks, “Do you have any more of the antimatter bullets and weaponized gas?”

“Yes.”

“What about more men?”

“Two more men. I can retrieve them and the remaining antimatter weapons.” Kor steps toward the water’s edge, where the submarine waits, partially submerged. I’m surprised he’s agreed. He seems a little too eager to get into the submarine, which makes me nervous.