Chapter 5 · The Empire Wants Her Head

"Give me your legs, Sylvia. Now."

Cassian tried to rip control of my knees right out from under me and the floor of the wagon was already on fire.

"I said no!" I slammed my hands flat on the burning boards. Smoke burned my throat raw. "You drive us into a ditch and we both die!"

"We die if you drive," he snapped inside my skull. His voice was too close, too hot. "You hesitate. I don't. Give me your hands."

"You don't get my hands. You don't get anything," I hissed. My fingers were shaking so bad I could barely hold the scalpel I'd palmed from my boot. "Back off."

The prison wagon lurched. Outside, horses screamed. Someone was shouting orders and the whole damn thing tipped hard to the right as the wheel hit something.

"Sylvia, move!" Cassian roared.

"I'm moving!" I choked on smoke and kicked the back door. It didn't budge. The lock was still jammed from the crash. Fire was eating up the side wall now, licking the wood inches from my face.

"Let me break it," he said, low and dangerous. "One second. Just let go."

"Every time I let go you take more," I said. My heart was hammering so fast it hurt. Or hearts. Whatever. "You want my legs, then my hands, then what? My mouth?"

"I want us alive," he said. "You want to be noble and burn to death? Fine. But I'm not dying in a box because you're scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," I lied. "I'm scared you'll get us killed faster."

The wagon tipped again. A beam cracked overhead and dropped hot ash on my shoulder. I flinched.

Cassian's laugh was dark and right against my ear even though he had no mouth. "Liar. I can feel your pulse in your throat. I can feel how much you hate that you need me."

"I don't need you," I snapped. "I need a door that opens."

"Then let me open it."

His heat pushed harder behind my eyes. My left hand twitched without me telling it to. My fingers flexed. He was taking it.

"Stop!" I yanked my hand back and pressed the scalpel to my own throat before he could grab it. Cold steel kissed skin. "You take one more inch without asking and I cut. I swear I will."

Everything inside me went still.

"Sylvia." His voice dropped. No more snarling. Just flat, cold. "Put that down."

"Make me," I said. My voice shook. The blade shook with it. I pressed a little harder and felt the sting. "You need this body to get out. You need my throat intact. So you let go. Right now. Let go of my hand."

"You will kill us both if you do that," he said. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid. I'm being clear," I said. Smoke made my eyes water. The fire was louder now, popping and hissing. "You want out? You ask. You don't grab. You don't shove me aside like I'm luggage. Say it."

A beat of silence. The wagon groaned as the fire ate through the axle.

"Please," he said through gritted teeth. Like the word cut him. "Let me help you break the door."

"Better," I breathed. My hand was still at my throat but I eased the blade a fraction. "We do it together. You push, I pull. On three. No hijacking."

"Together," he repeated, and I felt his heat settle around my shoulders instead of inside my bones. Closer, but not invading. "On three."

"One," I said.

"Two," he said, and his voice was right against my temple now. Warm breath I shouldn't be able to feel.

"Three!" We both slammed our weight — my weight — into the back doors.

My shoulder hit wood. His strength flooded my arm at the exact same second, not a moment before, and the lock screamed and gave.

The doors burst open and cold night air and smoke poured in. I fell out backwards onto dirt and dead grass, coughing, scalpel still clutched in my fist.

"Get up," Cassian said, urgent now. "Get up, Sylvia, now."

I rolled. The wagon was a torch behind me. Flames climbed the canvas roof and lit up the whole roadside ditch. And beyond the ditch —

Lights. So many lights.

"Oh hell," I whispered.

A line of Imperial rifles. A dozen horses. Lanterns. And at the center, a man in a white inquisitor's coat that glowed orange in the firelight.

Augustus.

He wasn't even looking at the fire. He was looking at me. At us.

"Sylvia Cross," he called out, pleasant, like we were at a garden party. His voice carried perfectly over the crackle of the flames. "The taboo surgeon. We have been looking for you."

I scrambled to my feet, legs wobbling. My throat still stung where the scalpel had kissed it.

"Stay behind me," Cassian muttered inside me. "Don't answer him."

"He has guns," I hissed under my breath, barely moving my lips. "A lot of guns."

"And he wants me alive," Cassian said. "He won't shoot the body. Run on my mark. Left, through the gap by the water."

"There is no gap," I whispered. The soldiers had closed ranks. Every exit was blocked. Rifles up. Horses still.

Augustus took a slow step forward. His boots didn't even crunch the dirt. He smiled.

"You did something very clever in that prison, Sylvia," he said. "Something no one has done in three hundred years. You stitched a soul back together. Did you think we wouldn't feel it?"

My blood went cold.

"Don't listen," Cassian said, but his voice had gone tight. Tense.

"He's been quiet for so long," Augustus went on, eyes never leaving mine. But he wasn't talking to me anymore. "Buried. Dismantled. Forgotten. But you— you put him back in a beating heart. How does it feel, sharing skin with a king?"

"Shut up," I said out loud before I could stop myself.

Augustus's smile widened.

"Oh, he can hear me," he said softly. "He's listening right now, isn't he? Let's say hello properly, then."

He spread his arms wide. The firelight threw his shadow huge behind him.

"Welcome home, King Cassian Nocturne—"

The name hit like a hammer.

My chest exploded. A second heartbeat — his heartbeat — slammed so hard inside my ribs I doubled over, gasping. It wasn't mine. It was too deep, too loud, too powerful, pounding in sync and then out of sync with my own until I couldn't tell which was which.

"Cassian!" I choked. My knees hit the dirt. The scalpel slipped from my fingers. "What— what is he—"

"He knows," Cassian snarled, and for the first time he sounded actually shaken. Furious and shaken. "He shouldn't know that name. No one should know that name."

Augustus kept walking forward, slow, palms up like he was calming a wild animal. Behind him, every rifle cocked at once. The click was deafening.

"Did you really think you could hide him inside a little girl, Sylvia?" Augustus said, his voice dropping to something almost tender. "Kneel for your true king, Cassian—"