Page 132 of Falling Princess

Unfortunately, the noise attracted the pirates. Engines roared closer.

I gulped a little water and started making my way down the ridge, unnoticed. Or so I thought.

“Princess. Come back.” One of the Covari men Raghnall brought. His blue eyes were wide with concern. I shook my head.

“The invaders are down there. You’ll never make it past them. Not carrying an injured man on foot.” Even with the distraction our chances are slim. “I have to try.”

“Let me.”

“No. I’m not strong enough to carry him. You are. I can do this. Now go back there, and don’t tell anyone where I’ve gone for the next ten minutes.”

He can’t ignore a direct command from his future queen, and he knows it. Reluctantly, he turned back. If I get the ten minutes it’ll be a miracle. I have to go now.

It was a relief to find a cheap black wool cap in Lorcan’s bag. I tugged it on and stuffed my braid inside. At the bottom of the hillside, I spotted three men examining the pile of dead Sentinels, speaking heavily accented French mixed with English. I didn’t stick around long enough to catch more than a few sentences.

Near a large boulder a few feet away were three intimidating-looking bikes with heavy-tread tires, flecked with mud. These guys must be feeling mighty cocky about their successful invasion, because they handed me a gift: all three bikes were on and idling.

Now, I cannot drive. I have, however, ridden a bicycle. I know how to change gears on one, and the hand brakes looked similar.

I took a deep breath, kicked one stand up, and revved the engine. I tried the gear and slowly throttled it forward a few feet. Good. I can do this.

Then I set it back on its kickstand. On the two other bikes, I quickly killed the engines and removed the keys, pocketing them.

Thirty seconds later, I was gunning it down the path through Marsh Hollow. A shot rang out behind me. My heart leaped.

Yes. I did it!

No wonder Lorcan likes being an assassin. This part of it isgreat.

I have to slow down to thread my way through the marsh, but I’m still faster than the pirates who are now chasing me on foot through unfamiliar territory. Ha! There’s no way they’ll go up the path and find Raina and Lorcan now.

On the other side of the swamp, I kicked the engine into higher gear. I’m not going that fast by most people’s standards. But for someone who’s never driven a vehicle before it feels akin to riding a horse at full gallop—one that never tires.

I felt invincible—for few minutes.

The instant I veered away from the wooded path near the river and into the Central Valley’s open plains, I heard a distinct and familiar whirring sound.

What? I thought Lorcan killed them—

Not all of them, apparently. Sentinels. Lots of them. Twenty or thirty, swarming after me. These things have been attacking the people who fled the palace and its surrounding town. Anger surged within my chest.

No wonder the Covari buried them and destroyed all mention of the damn devices—they’re too dangerous. I don’t know how anyone outside this country figured out the mechanism, but someone did, and now the stupid things are trying to kill me.

Skía, probably. They’re the only ones who could have read Saskaya’s translations of the old language. Or mine. I contributed to that project, too. We all had a hand in making this mess.

I gunned the bike toward the only possible source of protection—the palace. My father is somewhere inside. If I can get to him, we’ll close the gates and regroup. There’s enough food and weaponry stockpiled to survive this. The royal guards will fight. I’ll be safe there.

But first I have to get through the burning city.

A tree to my right exploded. Too close. I opened the throttle and weaved in between trees and the burned-out hulls of wagons.

Faster.

Coming out of the thicket onto the great plain of Central Auralia, I saw horses, some still bearing halters, running in a cluster. A Sentinel aimed for me, missed, and hit one. It screamed and fell. The smell of burning flesh made me gag.

The rest split up in a chaotic, panicked race for their lives, drawing the machines away. I twisted the fuel handle, hard. The bike leaped forward.

Minutes later, I rolled across the bridge and through the badly damaged gate. Heat blasted my face. I saw the stairs through the thick clouds of smoke just in time to brake. I hit them at nearly full speed and flew off onto the cobblestone. Something fell out of my bag with a clatter. I hope it wasn’t the explosives.

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