"Have you named her?" Sydney asked, the car door warm under her hand. She dug her fingers in, until she imagined she'd left an impression of the whorls of her fingertips in the peeling layers of paint. He would drive home, and the car would not forget she had been there.

Beyond her, desert stretched for miles in one direction, and Palm Springs sprawled in the other.

"A name?" Adrian said. He slid out of the driver's seat with grace that had surprised Sydney when she first arrived, knowing only that he could not fight. Adrian blinked a few times in the sunlight, but didn't insist they move the conversation somewhere cooler.

"Weapons should have names," Sydney said.

"If it's a weapon," said Adrian, and he did not disagree with her, "I shouldn't be the one to hold onto it."

"I won't argue with that," said Sydney.

If this were any other weapon, Sydney would have offered to take it instead. The Tainted Ones were ridiculous, and not slightly witless, on the subject of handling their natural magical gifts - why would they fare better with mechanical ones?

[[MORE]]But Sydney could not drive. Keepers, especially those who Jared Sage called daughter, did not learn unless they were trusted to wander in the world outside, and her father had never trusted her; never would, now that she was outside against his recommendations. He had been overruled, and Sydney had fought against the racing of her heart—had recited names of legend until she could breathe again—and packed her bags for a task that lay beyond the world of the forests.

Adrian leaned his chin on the roof of the car, either a boast of great flexibility, or the promise of an aching back if he stayed in that position for long. His rueful smile made Sydney's fingers dig in harder still.

"So, Sage, Warrior Princess," he murmured, "if you have an idea, I'd like to hear it."

I can't teach you how to use this weapon— the words died on her lips. That had not been his offer, and Sydney could not say whether disappointment or relief, or something warmer, more dangerous still, caught in her throat.

"Your wit failed you for once?" she asked, after a pause. "I thought you were brilliant at improvising, Agent Jet Steele."

She should not have said that. When she let her tongue loose, the look on Adrian's face was dangerous indeed, in all the wrong ways. All the right ways.

Anton, she thought, who had led the Moroi through wastelands and shadows, when the shadows first grew teeth and started feeding on them. Dalca, bringer of storms, washing away the Lost while his family led his people to safety. Tatiana Vasile, who said no to corruption and yes to the forest. A dozen names flicked in and out of Sydney's mind, recalled with the swiftness that had marked Sydney as the brightest of her peers—as the person who recited their history in her mind, before falling asleep, until the legends textured her dreams.

They did not quite fit this weapon. It was, somehow, too new.

And too yellow.

Adrian's grin was slow, smug. "Did you just call me 'brilliant'?"

Sydney groaned. "I didn't say that."

"Witty, then," Adrian said. "I like your faith in me, Sage. Not that I needed it, because the name 'The Ivashkinator' is beyond approach. Just the right mix of giant robot and established royal blood, don't you think?"

It was certainly the right mix of something. It wasn't the same something Adrian was imaging.

Sydney sighed. "Well, it's your car."

She expected some further degree of triumph, but Adrian said nothing. After waiting for a moment, Sydney said, "You're being a more graceful winner than I expected."

"If it's a weapon, and statistics on the internet say it can be," Adrian said, "do you want to learn how to use it?" He had straightened, and was watching her carefully.

Technology was forbidden. Her kind, his kind, were not meant for it, and however relaxed Sydney had become around other conveniences, learning was…

Sydney's heart leapt. Stuttered.

She didn't want to think of why. She was a little afraid of the answer.

"You're overheating," she said, abruptly, and it was true. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and was starting to run underneath his collar. "Lets gets out of the sun."

Adrian continued to study her, for just a second. Sydney felt her face warm—as a fire user, and as a Moroi who had spent hours upon hours in the sun, training to repel Strigoi, she was less vulnerable than Adrian, but it had to be the sunlight on her skin that made her feel much too hot. Had to be.

"All right," he said, and did not bring it up again on their ride back into Palm Springs.