The first arrows soared toward them, cracking roof tiles around him with sharp pops. Twig appeared at his side with a full quiver and a shield, giving him cover. Perry took his bow and set to defending his home. He’d done this plenty of times before, but never as the one in charge. The realization came on him like a quiet madness, slowing time, making his every move complete, efficient, sure.

Fire lit bright points of light against the rising dawn. A blazing arrow sliced past him, landing on the crates by the cookhouse. Perry adjusted his aim to the archers trying to set fire to the compound. His arrows—and those of Brooke and the Tides’ other archers—sheared through the charging mob. Some raiders fell into the trenches he’d had excavated and covered, but still they kept coming, too many in number. He watched as they split into smaller bands, swinging wide to circle the compound.

Men were climbing the gates, chopping at them with axes. Perry fired his last arrow, spearing one of them through. Not enough. Too late. He heard a splintering crash and saw the gates split open. They’d been breached—and they were burning. Smoke wafted from the stables, and from the crates by the cookhouse.

Perry climbed down from the roof, drawing his knife as he leaped off the ladder. He drove it into a man’s gut as he ran past. Voices he recognized screamed around him. He heard them faintly, no thought in his mind but finding the next attacker, the moment of hesitation, the false step, and seizing it.

In flashes, he saw Reef fighting nearby, his braids swinging in a blur. He saw Gren and Bear. Rowan, who’d resisted learning a weapon. Molly, whose life had been spent healing wounds.

Perry caught the glimpse of a black hat moving across the clearing. Cinder. A man with braided hair like Reef’s snagged him by the shoulder, yanking him off his feet. Perry watched him cower, powerless, though he wasn’t. Not a person there had more power, but Cinder wilted and didn’t fight back. Willow darted forward suddenly and plunged a dagger into the man’s leg. She took Cinder’s hand and pulled him away, running into the nearest house.

A raider with metal studs around his eyes spotted Perry and charged forward, ax held high. Perry had a knife—no weapon to challenge an ax. With only steps left between them, an arrow struck the raider’s head, lifting him off his feet. The impact sounded like stone roof tiles cracking. The man’s body and the ax thudded to the dirt. Looking up, Perry saw Hyde on the roof above, the string of his bow still quivering.

He spun and plunged back into battle, losing time until someone yelled, “Pull back!” Around the clearing, others picked up the call. He saw the crowd grow thinner, no longer a thrashing, clanging mass.