Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(5)

“On his way,” Di replied.

She gave a relieved sigh. “Goddess, I’m glad you didn’t glitch long.”

“My”—Thud! The door shook again—“apologies.”

“Kid, don’t go after it,” Mokuba begged. “It’s cursed. People have died for those coordinates. You don’t understand. This whole thing is—”

A lightsword sliced through the door beside Di’s head. He ducked out of the way, but not quick enough before it tore through half of his hood.

Sweat prickled on Mokuba’s upper lip. “Ana, you have to run.”

“But—”

“Now,” the info broker snapped. His black eyes were frightened and desperate. She had never seen Mokuba like this before. “Siege’ll kill me if anything happens to you.”

“What’ll you do?”

“Distract them.”

Alarmed, she shook her head. “They’ll catch you. They’ll—”

The Messiers kicked the door open, and it fell outward with a terrifying crash.

Hurtling over the railing, Di landed at the bottom of the stairs and curled his cold gloved hand around her wrist. He pulled her down the grimy alleyway before she had a chance to argue, leaving Mokuba to face the Messiers alone.





Jax


As a Solani, Jax prided himself in knowing two things: how to fly absolutely anything, and how to stay out of trouble. The first was a breeze. He had a knack for flying, and when he closed his eyes he could feel the stars orbit around him no matter where he was, so he could never get lost.

The second, however, was proving to be a problem. Along with his excellent way-finding skills, he was taught at a young age to stay out of conflict. Solani were good at that: sticking to their heritage, never leaving their homes, growing old under the stars, and coasting under kingdom radar—

But being Ana’s getaway driver made staying out of trouble very, very difficult. Maybe he should have picked an easier job instead of being the most talented and respected pilot on the wrong side of the law.

Still, on days like this, he wondered if it was worth a lifetime in jail. Solani didn’t fare so well in dark places.

Gunfire exploded through the alleyway below. He leaned over the skysailer, squinting down into the mess of Nevaeh. Ana and D09 sprinted down the alleyway. A few yards behind, gaining speed, six of the kingdom’s mindless legion pursued them.

“You were supposed to babysit her, metalhead, not send her into the middle of a firefight,” Jax muttered, tugging at his leather gloves—a nervous habit—and swooped into the no-fly airspace below.

The sailer purred like a kitten, its silvery wings fanning up on either side of the hull, soaking in the solar light coming through the harbor high above them. Wind whistled through the cracks in the cockpit shield as he ducked out of the airstream, gliding toward Ana and her boyfriend—

Metal, he corrected himself. Metal boyfriend.

Warning signals sprang up on his console. NO FLY. RETURN TO ROUTE. He swiped them away with a flick of his finger. If he was going to get arrested for anything, it wouldn’t be because he was flying in a no-fly zone.

In twenty yards the alleyway broke out into a crowded market square. Nervous sweat prickled the back of his neck; he only had one shot at this.

He unlatched the shield and shoved it up.

“Ana! Di—Ak’va!” he cursed as a bullet ricocheted off the dash. He pushed on his goggles, his long silver ponytail swirling up like a streamer in the wind.

D09 grabbed Ana by the waist, skidded to a stop, and lifted his hand—

Jax jerked the helm left. The ship tilted sideways, diving into the alley. The left wing scraped the ground, leaving a trail of sparks.

He outstretched his free hand.

Fifteen yards, ten—

Di caught ahold of his arm, and as the ship burst into the market square, Jax used the momentum to swing them into the cockpit and right the ship. The sailer grazed over the top of the crowd, rising sharply, and burst out from between the buildings, higher and higher until the Messiers were dots with glowing blue eyes.

Ana scrambled to her feet, and grappled for the back of his chair. “We have to go after that skysailer! Did you see it? It’s—”

“I saw it,” Jax interrupted, looking up at the ship rising through the slipstreams of traffic. “And that means you don’t have the coordinates.”

D09 inspected his cut hood. “We ran into some problems.”

“Obviously.”

Even if the Messiers got a good look at their skysailer, thanks to his paranoia it looked like every other standard-grade skysailer in the kingdom. Recognizable, but easy to mix up between his and the one in front of him in traffic.

Above them, the pinprick of the skysailer in question swirled up into the underbelly of one of the floating Ironblood gardens, and his heart sank. Anywhere else. The Ironblood could’ve gone literally anywhere else.

“Love,” he said, easing back on the helm, “I think your Ironblood’s late to a party.”

Ana stared up at the floating patch of greenery. “That’s not . . .”

“Astoria. The Valerios’ garden estate,” D09 confirmed. “Where the Grand Duchess is scheduled to announce her heir.”

“Well, we gave it our best,” Jax said lightly, turning the skysailer toward the harbor. “Who’s up for a round of Wicked Luck when we get ba—”