A dozen of them land gracefully in front of the Gallery steps, their metal wingspans broad and menacing. Each feather flickers like a blade. Even from a distance I can tell they’re designed to be deathly sharp, and quick when they need to be. One by one, each set of wings gives a shudder like a fading hologram before vanishing until the next time they need to take flight.

Each guard wears a white uniform plated in silver. One of them—a commander, judging by the additional silver ropes hanging from his shoulders—pushes toward a small gathering of human servants at the side of the Gallery. They sway near-lifeless, like they’re awaiting orders, more subservient than even the Legion Guards.

When the commander returns to the ranks, he has a young man with him. Toffee hair and a wide nose, he looks to be in his midtwenties. His hands are cuffed with metal restraints, but his vacant green eyes show no signs of distress. If anything, there’s a gentle smile emitting from his pleasant expression.

Still, the resemblance to Theo is uncanny.

“He doesn’t look aware,” a Resident nearby whispers to their friend.

“Is he the one who set the car on fire?” another ponders out loud.

Nobody moves for the bridge. Maybe Theo managed to escape before anyone saw him.

I swallow the tension in my throat, too scared to let the relief in.

The commander speaks hurriedly to Prince Caelan, who nods a few times and waves a hand to order the guards to wait. He turns to the crowd, face as regal as ever, and finds one of his counselors. I recognize him from the market—his adviser, Vallis. Caelan says something in his ear, and the fox-faced Resident nods graciously before turning to the crowd.

“His Highness would like everyone to return to the festivities. If you’ll please follow me, I believe there are apple tarts and wine being served in the rose gardens.” Vallis lifts a hand forward, off-white robes sliding down his wrists, and guides the crowd away from the Legion Guards and the human prisoner.

Despite a chorus of gentle murmurs, the partygoers comply.

Prince Caelan’s fingers twitch at his sides as he focuses on his commander. I sense the tension in his stare, even as he manages to appear composed. Perched against one of the marble pillars behind him is a highly amused Prince Ettore.

When the crowd moves, I have no choice but to follow them inside.

But I can’t lose sight of the guards. I need to know if they saw Theo and why one of the humans is bound in chains. I need to know if the Colony is still safe.