“It feels like it’s all on me.”

“Do you think Thorne feels any differently right now? Or Endelle? How about Fiona or Marguerite?”

She turned to look at him. After searching his eyes for a long moment, she let out a deep breath. “I see what you mean.”

“What you’re experiencing is perfectly normal.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Are you worried?” she asked.

The question surprised him, not because she asked but because he had to dig around for the answer. “I’m not sure. Maybe after so many centuries I’m immune. But I also know that it’s a waste of energy to fret like this before a battle. You’ll need every ounce of your strength while in flight.”

She pressed his arm with her hand. “I still couldn’t believe we were able to fold all those Militia Warriors while flying. How did it look from your view?”

“I have to admit, I wasn’t looking at the troops on the ground. My view was so exquisite that my gaze was fixed right here.” He drifted his hand down her back to cup her bu**ocks.

Grace laughed. “I don’t believe you for a second but … um … how much time do we have before we’re needed back at the parade grounds?”

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“Marcus wants us at the palace by seven fifteen.”

He leaned close, nuzzled his way toward her neck, then sucked above her vein. That means we have at least an hour and a half. We can accomplish a lot in that amount of time, he sent. A lot.

He felt her shiver and her body start to unwind. Even so, she pushed him away and rose to her feet. “I still want my shower. I am so not doing anything without getting clean first. And I do mean anything.”

His eyes fell to half-mast. A shower didn’t have to take long, especially if he helped. And the thought of her really clean in various places forced him to get rid of his clothes and join her.

By seven fifteen Leto stood with the rest of obsidian flame in the central rotunda, waiting for Endelle before folding to the parade grounds. He was jumpy, but then they all were. On the other hand, this was a solid team, all the coordinates had been laid in for the mass fold of Greaves’s army, and obsidian flame had proven they could get the job done.

The only real unknown was whether or not Greaves would actually bomb the spectacle parade. But Leto had his own team, led by Gideon, watching the monitors, which now had a heat-sensing fix on the location of all the local artillery. The moment anything went hot, Gideon would know and in turn would relay the information to Thorne’s com.

Perhaps for all those reasons, even Casimir had arrived to wait with the obsidian flame team. Though a couple of times Grace had drawn near and chatted with him, Casimir was very respectful. Leto admitted it helped that he looked so different with his bald head and his long white linen robe. He looked more of a monk than a seducer of women.

Could Leto forgive him?

Did it even matter?

Thorne nudged him and spoke in a low voice. “Not sure I could tolerate having him around.”

Leto chuckled softly. “It’s kind of hard to complain when he’s fought off Third Earth death vampires twice on my behalf.”

“See your point. Still.”

“Yeah … still.” He sighed.

“Any clue yet about this ascension of yours?”

“Nope. And I’m not feelin’ it, so I don’t know what to tell you. Of course, all I really care about is being with your sister. So it wouldn’t matter to me whether that was here on Second or on Third … I just need to be with her.”

“Well, it’s not the usual process for an ascension, that’s for sure. I mean, have you been having dreams at all?” The hallmarks of an ascension always included dreams of the new world and often inexplicable longings as well.

“Nothing. No longings to be on Third, no dreams of ascending. Nothing. Just Casimir showing up saying he was my Guardian of Ascension.”

“Well, like everything else, I’m sure it will sort itself out.” He shifted slightly, then murmured, “Oh, my God.”

Leto turned, as did the entire group.

Endelle had arrived.

Her hair rose to an enormous height and width, teased to a full madness, but drawn in at the center with a crown that bore about a hundred sparkling gems. Probably not real, but holy shit.

Her bustier was the same spotted fur he’d seen the day before. The rest of her costume was layer upon layer of fabric with a panel of peacock feathers serving as a kind of apron. Two smaller women, each in simple black flight gear, carried the train.

“I’d twirl for all you gape-mouthed idiots, but we haven’t got time.” She turned to Thorne. “We ready?”

He nodded, then finally closed his mouth. “Uh, yes.”

She glanced at the triad, all in simple black leather flight suits and black flats. “You ladies ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.” All three obsidian flame responded as one.

“Then come stand by me. Bring your men with you, then let’s do this thing.”

* * *

Timing is everything.

Some truths are so universal as to be dull. But Grace had never known this truth to be quite so relevant as it was now. The entire success of the mission depended on getting the timing exactly right.

She had a death grip on Leto’s hand, but he stood fast. He seemed oddly relaxed, maybe because he knew she was so wound up.

A Sousa march blared from the loudspeakers, a lively sound and appropriate for the spectacle. But the music seemed to keep her nerves on fire, and every sixteen bars she would jump.

Fiona leaned back against Jean-Pierre’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around her, as usual. Grace didn’t think being held so tight right now would help her at all.

So Leto allowed her to keep squeezing his hand.

At the same time, she kept glancing up at Thorne on her right. His jaw worked. He touch his headset frequently and continued talking quietly, this time to Gideon, making sure that the artillery-locating files were up and humming at the workout center where Leto had set them up.

They all wore headsets hooked over one ear, which made communication easier. Thorne had a companion piece on his shoulder that allowed him to change frequencies. He had reports coming in steadily from Marcus, who had command of the entire communications system. He was also connected to Colonel Seriffe, who was in charge of security and the two hundred thousand Militia Warriors here at the parade grounds.

Where the defecting army was concerned, as soon as obsidian flame was airborne and moving down the parade route, Leto would give the order to begin the secret mass folds of Greaves’s army. Brynna waited in North Africa to confirm the success of the first two folds. The second two were destined for Apache Junction Two.




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