Only Jàden mattered now.

Jon swam through the icy waters, trying to shake off Éli’s words. He clenched his sword until his fingers hurt. Just his presence at her side put Jàden in more danger than she deserved.

But the sky beast worried him the most. Frank. Another man he’d have to kill to keep her safe.

Saltwater stung deep in the cut on his leg and forced him to the surface. Smoke plumes obscured the city as he gasped for air then dove under again before anyone could spot him.

When he surfaced a second time, Jon was beyond the moored ships, surrounded by swells. He turned about to get his bearings, fog wrapping the Guardian towers and most of the city. Smoke hovered along the waterfront, gold-armored and black-clad soldiers darting in and out of the adjacent roads.

Rakir and wardens had been enemies for hundreds of years, each sticking to their own side of the Forbidden Mountains. Watching them side by side unsettled his already turbulent thoughts.

“Captain!” A rope slapped the water next to him. Malcolm stood on the deck of a large ship, wine-colored sails flapping in the breeze.

Jon sheathed his sword and grabbed the mooring rope. He pulled himself out of the water, his leg killing him each time he put pressure on it.

Canon fire exploded, a column of water soaring into the sky. He gripped the weathered wood and pulled himself over the rail as the spray hit him and the boat lurched under the force of the waves.

“Where’s Jàden?” Jon asked. “We got separated.”

“We all got separated.” Malcolm clasped his forearm, hauling Jon to his feet.

“Thomas and the twins are missing, I ain’t seen Dusty yet, and that woman of yours…” Malcolm pointed toward the far side of the harbor where a black and silver Tower barge sat shrouded in a thin veil of mist. “She and Theryn got taken.”

“Fuck!” He paced along the rail, gritting his teeth each time he stepped on his injured leg. The ship’s crew shouted across the deck with strong female voices. Women clad in soft dresses and low hemlines tugged on the ropes to open a sail, while others—dressed as men in wine-colored breeches—tugged their hats low and climbed the masts.

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He needed to get to that barge. The high council might keep Jàden alive, but Theryn was in serious trouble. Leaving his men behind wasn’t an option.

Jon shouted in frustration.

Malcolm gestured to the ship’s hevkor—a prestigious command title only given to merchant trade captains—as the ship’s aft drifted toward the wharf. “Ain’t never been terrified of a woman, but that one frightens me. Whatever you do, Captain, don’t go pickin’ a fight with her.”

It was as if Malcolm didn’t know him. Jon was already itching for a fight.

Dusty raced along the exploded wharf. “Get a ramp down!”

The crew was already in motion. Several women shoved Jon aside and slid a rail from the top deck toward the pier. More than a dozen riders trailed Dusty.

Jon grabbed an arrow and sighted the tip as he pulled back the tension on his bow. The damn thing zipped past the warden’s shoulder. He cursed under his breath and grabbed another as horses thundered onto the ship.

A small knife plunged into one warden’s throat.

Twins are here, Jon thought, slipping another arrow onto his string. He released it into the last man’s throat, but loud shouts erupted in the distance. Dozens of wardens poured out of a nearby cross-street.

“Shit, out of time, boys,” Jon said.

Dusty and the twins bolted onto the ship, the latter with blood splattered across their cheeks.

“Toss the ramp,” Dusty shouted to the crew.

“No, wait.” Ashe pointed toward a knot of soldiers as Thomas burst through.

“Get your arrows.” Jon grabbed two more then tossed his quiver to Dusty, who only had one left. Jon pulled the fletchings against his cheek and fired his arrow, piercing a warden in the knee.

“Open the lower doors!” one of the crew shouted.

Thomas laid low against his horse and bolted for the ship. The crew hauled up the ramp and dropped it onto the deck. The rusted black raced to the end of the pier and leapt, barely clearing the gap as both the stallion and Thomas disappeared into the lower deck.

Jon sneered at the soldiers racing along the wharf. “Let’s go. And someone check on Thomas.”

Guardians be damned, he needed a cigarette. His were soaking wet. Without a care for the women on deck, Jon stripped off his shirts and squeezed out as much of the moisture as he could while the ship slid away from the city toward the harbor.

His thoughts were on Jàden.

He’d damn near kissed her and only barely held himself back. Her gentleness breathed in his skin, but it was his mouth that burned with the desire to feel her lips against his.

Jon pulled on dry clothes and his leather armor, buckling on his weapons last. He was still freezing his ass off, but it would have to do. He needed to get to Jàden and Theryn before it was too late.

“Head for the Tower barge.”