'Well,' she told herself, 'if you live, you'll both be beholden to the same beast, and you'll have time to trade genial insults then.' If Gavin wanted anything to do with her.
She could live with being a servant again. She told herself, firmly:
She would simply have to.
She was glad, though, to have had the illusion of freedom. Princesses had adventures. Princesses were taken as prizes of war. Princesses had to battle monsters if they were going to survive, and the monsters inevitably won. If not the monster you fought against, the monster you served.
Or the monster you became.
Except, she thought, the only lasting place in the world for princesses was deeply in denial, and the only important question in the end was, was it better to become the monster, or to become the servant of the beast? She thought of Gavin. She thought of Samael and Dust, and of the parasite wings. She thought she knew which monster she preferred.
Rien dodged other pedestrians and tried to calm herself with the comforting knowledge of Benedick and Caitlin's faith in her. They'd both been perfectly insouciant about allowing her to make her way to the lockers unguided.
The trust was flattering. It wasn't, as a nasty undermining conviction kept insisting, that they didn't care if they got her back. And Caitlin did not see her only as a placeholder for Perceval.
Still, when she rejoined them and Tristen at the gateway to the air locks as arranged, it took an effort of will not to coil her fists in the tails of her borrowed blouse. They were already armed and armored, standing three abreast. A brave sight, if ever she had seen one.
They had no pack.
They had a suit of power armor. Four suits, in fact, but three of those were in use already. Tristen wore shining white, Benedick the predictable black piped in golden-brown, and Caitlin, vermilion and gold. The armor that stood empty was teal and emerald, but where a device might have been blazoned on the chest was only an empty plate.
With them waited Samael, his colorless hair hanging in strings beside his face. He winked when he saw Rien. The others, helms open, watched her approach. Tristen and Benedick were bald and stubbled as Rien, Caitlin no bigger.
It was the angel who extended a hand to her, an arrogant gesture, a crook of his fingers.
She paused before him, and he placed a helmet in her hands.
Samael said, 'The time is nigh. Put your armor on.'
'How are we going to reach Rule in time?'
Maybe they should just stay here, and help to hold the world together. Hero Ng could be useful here, and so by extension could Rien. And whatever the monsters got up to, somebody still needed to do the work of the world.
Rien looked to Tristen. He gestured, with his eyes, to Caitlin, and she smiled. 'We are Engineers,' she said. 'The lift to the bridge has been kept in working order, against this day of need. It will take us to the bridge in under an hour, barring disasters.'
Rien considered it a major personal achievement that she didn't hurl the helmet at her new foster mother. Instead, she turned to her and said, 'I've never worn power armor before.'
Caitlin nodded. 'I'll help you into it.'
All three of them did, actually, deftly enough that they rarely seemed to be getting in one another's way. And once it had folded around her, Tristen adjusted the seals and Caitlin checked the latches, while Benedick, meticulous and silent, fixed the calibration of the pressure switches that would move the armor effortlessly with Rien's every gesture.
When she was garbed, her helm seated but not sealed, they stepped back and surveyed their work.
'Not bad,' Caitlin said. 'We'll make a knight of you yet.'
Rien smiled. She swung her arms; they moved as lightly as if in microgravity. And because she had to know, she asked, 'Did Arianrhod's arrest go well?'
'Fine.'
Maybe it was the directness of Caitlin's gaze, or Hero Ng's experience, but Rien knew immediately that her foster mother was lying. She stopped, one hand raised to her helmet seal, and turned to Benedick. 'She got away.'
'She has a faction,' Caitlin said, before Benedick could answer. 'It's under con—'
'Don't lie to me,' Rien said. 'Don't treat me like a child, Father.'
'Yes,' he said. 'She got away. No, I do not think she can elude us long.'
She didn't think he was lying. Not exactly. But his worried glance at Caitlin told her that neither was he artless. 'Chief Engineer,' Rien said, 'do you need to stay?'
Caitlin spread her hands. 'I'm not the only Engineer,' she said. 'And Perceval is my daughter.'
In the distance, Rien heard an alarm ringing. And then another. She thought of the resurrected in their come, of Oliver led through the streets on a leash.
Arianrhod had more than a few partisans, she understood.
She fixed Samael on a stare. And then Benedick. Inside the armor, her hands were cold. 'What if you stayed, Father? You and Cat and Tristen. And Samael and I went for Perceval?'
He opened his mouth. She held up a gauntlet. 'Can the two of us handle Dust?'
'I can handle Dust,' Samael said. 'If we were stealthy and few in number, it might even improve our chances of reaching her alive.'
'Right,' Rien said. 'Then it's settled. The Engineers and tacticians are needed here.'
'Without me, you don't have transportation,' Caitlin said.
Rien laughed. 'Without me, you don't know where to go. Cat'—she shrugged, ceramic plates clicking—'I know you
Caitlin, bold as ever, let the mask of her helm glide open and the faceplate underneath slide back. 'It's going to be a war out there,' she said.
'I know,' Rien said. 'It's going to be a war in here as well, isn't it?'
Before any of them could answer, Rien heard the whir of wings. She twisted, automatically, casting one arm up to protect her face. The armor moved fluidly, faster than she would have on her own, so that she at first tried to resist it and it bruised her. 'Ow,' she said, as Gavin settled on her forearm.
'Oh, please. I could burn through that, but not pinch.' He hopped up her arm to her shoulder, balancing on the slick pauldron with care. 'Mallory would like to speak before you go.'
Rien pressed her lips together, not caring if he saw the grimace. If she had somehow summoned the basilisk with her earlier relief at his absence, she wouldn't be surprised.
'In a minute,' she said, and looked sidelong at Benedick. He reached out, as if to prevent her from stepping forward, and she sidled away.
'I've taken care of myself all my life,' she said, averting her eyes. 'Your deciding to be my father now doesn't change that. And if we don't come back the only thing it matters to is which angel winds up on top. If you fail here...'
... the world ends.
Benedick's lips pressed thin under his faceplate. And then he nodded and stepped back. 'Tristen,' he said.
Tristen, who had been silent, and who had not yet sealed his helm, licked his lips. He laid one hand on Rien's shoulder, and Rien saw Benedick's hurt that she let it happen. 'Never fear,' Tristen said. 'Rien,
'Fine,' she said, choosing—again—not to wonder if she could trust him. And then she turned back to Benedick and said, 'When we come back, I expect you'll be able to tell me what happened to my mother.'
'When you come back, I expect I will,' he said.
Then Caitlin stepped in, not blocking her path but reaching into it. Her sheathed unblade was in her hand, and Rien stared at it. 'This is Mercy,' she said. 'Take it.'
'You might need it,' Rien said.
