Through the myriad windows they passed, Regis watched death fall from the sky. The imperial fleet had come to unleash their grim cargo upon Insomnia—now the skies rained MTs and daemons with no Wall to hold them back.

And it was night. Niflheim hardly needed to supply their own daemons. Left as it was, the Crown City would fall, regardless. They had nowhere near the forces necessary to protect all of their citizens from this threat.

From what Regis could see, this was the end for Lucis. Reina might destroy Drautos, but it did little good in the long run. Aldercapt had fled. In all likelihood he was already safe among his daemons and constructs. Even if every Crownsguard and every remaining Kingsglaive in the city had been dedicated to finding him, chances that they would succeed were dismal.

Insomnia would fall in spite of their best efforts and he was worthless against this threat. Reina had sent him away. She should have let him remain at her side. The irony was not lost on him.

Ravus had dragged him from the treaty room and through the halls. In spite of his brooding nature and seething hatred of Regis, it was clear he had little idea of where he was going. Regis gleaned—albeit with great trouble—that Ravus meant to lead them back to the upper floors, where Luna had been left before the signing began. More difficult than getting information out of Ravus, was trying to hint at the correct direction without appearing to tell him, because Gods forbid that his pride be injured when the whole damn city was dying outside.

By the time they reached the elevator, Regis was nearly as weary of Ravus as Ravus was of him. In all likelihood, he had half agreed to take Regis in the first place because he couldn't operate the lift on his own.

Regis unlocked it. And they ascended in tense silence.

At the top, Lunafreya was waiting in the lounge. She rose immediately; her expression was carefully schooled, but she was worried underneath. He would have been more surprised if she had been unconcerned—locked away at the top of the city, knowing that everything had gone wrong but not knowing how or why or what could be done to fix it.

Now there were three of them to do much the same thing.

He had little information to give her, but he filled in as much as he could. And he tried not to make it sound as hopeless as it was. If it came to that, he could get her and her brother out, at least.

"The emperor will flee to wherever he can be seen," Ravus said, without preamble. "Your guards have killed most of his and he left on foot—I highly doubt that he has the capability to contact them at all. If your… Crownsguards cover high ground and open spaces, they may yet intercept him."

Regis' eyebrows came together in the middle. "Surely he must only meet with one of the thousands of Magitek soldiers that have been dropped on us."

"He has no direct control over them," Ravus said. "They take orders and they carry them out without thought or remorse—they can be redirected once deployed, but he never had any reason to hold that clearance."

"And you?" Regis asked. "Have you the ability to control them?"

"Yes," he said. "Should they cross my path. But I have been instructed to protect you. And you are wasting time."

Was it a waste to learn about an—albeit questionable—ally with the ability to control their enemy's army?

Regis thrust his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone. Cor's number was on the home screen. He tapped the icon, pressed the phone to his ear, and waited.

He counted the rings, unable to help himself.

It went to voicemail.

He dialed again. And again.

They called him the Immortal for a reason, damn it! He couldn't be dead.

On the fourth try, the line clicked.

"Your Majesty—"

Thank the Gods.

"No luck on the emperor's trail, yet, but—"

"Cor," Regis interrupted, "I have information that Aldercapt may try to make for any place in the city where he might draw the attention of the ships overhead—concentrate your search on open areas and high ground."

"The warehouses."

The packing houses and industrial facilities in the southwest were both the highest point in the city, ground-level wise, and arguably the most open.

"See it done—and Cor?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Please see that your head remains attached to your body."

"It's not my neck I'm worried about, Your Majesty."

Ravus grabbed Regis' arm and jerked him forward; he stepped reflexively and landed on his bad leg. His phone went flying and his cane came down too slowly. It was the third time in the past twenty-four hours that he had been on his knees. Regis gritted his teeth through the pain; kings weren't meant to kneel so often. At least this time he managed to keep hold of his cane.

Behind him, Ravus drew his blade and ran it through a daemon before the beast was through materializing. But it was far from alone. The air all around swam with miasma and half a dozen others had crawled from the tile floor. Lunafreya was at Regis' side, helping him to his feet. Much as he appreciated the effort, she should have been watching the daemons, instead.

Vigilant Ravus might have been, but he could not keep hold on so many. Only one slipped past him—at first—but it was enough. It flew at them, claws reaching and grasping, and nearly caught Luna's arm with a swipe.

Regis threw a barrier up between them. The daemon crashed harmlessly into the outside before others joined it. They seemed to attract more of their brethren—where one went, dozens followed until the royal quarters were crawling with them.

He gritted his teeth and—with the help of his cane and Lunafreya's arm—managed to regain his footing. His barrier crept around them, forming a full sphere against the swarming daemons. It was more difficult to throw magic beyond it, but it wasn't impossible. And, with the Wall off his shoulders, he could just manage.

Lightning leapt through their ranks, chaining between daemons and connecting them in a massive network of unholy fairy lights. He diverted it around Ravus, and Ravus was wise enough to keep his blade well away from any of them. When Regis released his hold on the magic, they fell, charred and smoking, leaving the air smelling vaguely of burned and rotted flesh.

As Regis dropped his shield, Ravus turned to look at them—Regis no worse for his fall and Luna half behind him where he had unconsciously ushered her in the face of danger. For a moment, it looked as if Ravus would find some way to pin this unfortunate occurrence on Regis, as well.

But he merely looked at Lunafreya. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said.

And then, grudgingly, forcing out each word as if they were physically painful, he looked to Regis and said, "Thank you for protecting my sister."

"Contrary to your belief, Commander, I do not—and have never—desired any harm to befall your family," Regis said.

It was a difficult pill to swallow. But at least it was set before him. That was all Regis could do.