All the things left unspoken between them poured into a moment of perfection. Of need and desire, and a thousand little secret confessions.
And then Malloryn finally drew back, carefully disengaging her arms from around his neck.
"I love you," he whispered, his eyes gleaming bright gray in contrast to the soot on his cheeks. "I have tried not to. I knew I was breaking every single promise I ever made myself when I looked at you. But I couldn't help myself. You drive me crazy, Adele. But you also give me back a piece of myself I thought I'd lost."
Another kiss, her arms locking around his neck.
And then he was capturing her wrists, lowering her hands in front of her, his expression grim. "And so I want you to go. If I don't make it, go and live your life. Be happy. Be free."
She knew what he was saying.
He didn't think he was going to survive.
"Come with me!"
"I can't." Malloryn cupped her hand against his cheek. "This needs to end, Adele. One way or another, one of us has to die. If I walk away, he'll scuttle free, and then there'll be more dead girls in the streets. More explosions. More killing. He'll come after the queen again. He'll come after you. I can stop it. I have to stop it."
"None of this was your fault!" she cried.
"Adele."
The way he said her name always cut right through her. But this time, there was a slight pleading undertone.
"Know this," he said. "I want that future we spoke of. I will fight for that, if nothing else. And I will come home to you if I can. But you need to go now, before the tower goes down." His mouth softened into a smile. "Be brave."
And let me go….
She didn't want to go.
Heavens knew what Malloryn faced. But if his attention was focused on protecting her, then he'd be at risk himself.
She couldn't afford to distract him when he went face-to-face with Balfour.
Adele steeled herself, drawing on years of experience to swallow down the fear inside her. "Go and kill him. And you had better come home to me, Auvry, or I am going to be most put out."
"As you wish. Fall back," Malloryn commanded, pushing her toward Lark and Ingrid. "Keep her safe for me, please."
"I love you," she mouthed, before she turned away from him.
Before she could linger any further.
"This way, Your Grace," Lark said, gesturing her to the back of the throne.
Ingrid tore a burning tapestry from one of the walls, revealing a secret passage behind it. "I'll go first. Cover me."
The three of them fled along the corridor and appeared outside on one of the enormous spiral staircases up the center of the tower. Each staircase twined around the other, so you couldn't see anyone travelling up or down the other staircase.
Another loud explosion sent them all sprawling.
Smoke poured up through the hollow of the tower, and Adele lay winded as the entire structure shook. "Is Balfour insane? He's taking out the base of the tower!"
Perhaps, after all this time, he'd finally given up on taking power and merely sought revenge.
Ingrid hauled her to her feet. "Keep moving! We need to reach the top of the tower and signal the Nightingale."
A second explosion sounded closer. Nearby. Adele screamed as she was slammed into the wall. Pieces of shrapnel flew past them, landing with a tinny bang against the wall. One large piece clattered down the stairs toward them.
"What the hell was that?" Ingrid demanded, spinning in that direction with her knives drawn.
Lark bent to pick up the domed helmet, flinching from the heat of it. "It looks like some sort of—"
"Oh, my God. It's a Mowbray!" Adele cried suddenly, recognizing the piece of machinery. All the facts suddenly rearranged themselves inside her head. The Prometheus Project had never been about the metaljackets. They were merely the distraction.
"What in bloody rot and ruin is a Mowbray?" Ingrid demanded.
Adele took the domed helmet from Lark and shook it. "This is a Mowbray! Or part of one. They're in almost every aristocratic home!"
Recognition dawned in Lark's eyes. "Household automatons."
"The best on the market." Adele wanted to slam her palm to her forehead. "Of course! There was some sort of shortage fault discovered in the previous models the tower used. A Paxton Elite burned the Earl of Ardmore's townhouse down, and the bloody council ordered their Paxtons all replaced six months ago. It was a major scandal in all the papers and sent the other manufacturer broke. The tower scrapped the other contract and went with Mowbrays. Balfour didn't need to smuggle explosives inside the tower! They were already here, packed inside each Mowbray in the tower. He must have been waiting for this day for months. I'll bet my best diamonds they're all full of explosives."
"And now they're exploding," Ingrid said, her eyes growing distant. "They're destroying the tower from the inside."
Lark put her hand to her earpiece. "I'll tell Ava."
"And then we need to go," Ingrid warned. "Who knows how many bloody automatons are strewn throughout this section of the tower."
Lark relayed the message, and Ingrid pushed Adele in the back. "Move."
But Adele skidded to a halt on the next curve of stairs.
A tall, slim figure stalked through the smoke, a pair of swords held at her side. She wore tight trousers that showed the muscles in her thighs, a leather overcorset, and a long bloodred coat that flared around her calves as she slowly made her way down the stairs toward them.
"You're not the queen," Dido said, her silvery brows drawing together. Then she suddenly smiled as she drew both swords. "Malloryn's little wife. This is even better."
"Do you think the women got clear?" Malloryn demanded as he, Charlie, and Byrnes staggered to a halt on the staircase.
It had taken the three of them to defeat a second set of metaljackets who'd turned on them the second they left the throne room. Blood dripped down Charlie's shirt, though the lad had been singlehandedly responsible for taking both automatons off their feet and giving them a chance.