Mother laughs and waves me toward the kitchen. “She was upset about not being put on a team. Other than that, she seemed fine.”

“Good.” I didn’t expect Rowan to say anything about Noam, but she kept our fight to herself, too. I’m not sure how to feel about that.

Here in the kitchen, the wooden countertops lie bare and the sink perfectly dry until my mother spills a little bit of water from the kettle. Three tall, thin windows at the other end of the room give us a view of the adjacent house, where a family has kept their High Summer lamps on and is having a makeshift dance.

“I miss this place,” I say absently.

“You know you’re welcome anytime. You and Sethran.”

I exhale a smile. “You can call him Seth, Mother. It’s been long enough.”

“Oh, fine. I just like the full sound of it.” She sets the tea down, and for just a moment, I relax.

The noise that interrupts my peace is unholy. It begins as a buzz, like if I pressed my ear against a beehive and managed to escape with only the memory of the sound. It grows into something more like thunder, but without any of the beauty and only the malice.

My mother goes to the window, her voice thick with uncertainty. “What is that?”

Scrambling up as quickly as I can, I dart back out through our small kitchen to the nearest hallway that leads to open air. “What in the skies.…”

The machines fly in arced paths, circling the city. A half dozen shadows trail behind them—warriors already on their tail. The sound grows unbearable, and I see the warrior flying in the rear dive sharply, engulfed in a belch of black smoke. From the lower levels of the palace, somebody screams. I squint harder, struggling to see in the evening’s fading light, but I don’t need to see what’s going on to know the horrible sound of bullets being fired.

“Mother, get away from the window!” I cry. “Go to your room and close the doors. Now.”

My mother, with her caretaker’s soul, is no fighter. She obeys without a word.

I dash through Storm’s End, practically barreling into the door of my old room before wrenching it open. Bless Mother, she’s left it alone just as I hoped. My old set of warrior armor lies as I left it in an old storage trunk. Though not as fine as my sentinel ones, I don’t have time to go to the palace.