The air in the small infirmary room was heavy and clean, smelling of chemicals and antiseptic. Briar lay still in the bed, a white bandage wrapped tightly around her head. The remaining five children—Corbin, Felix, Rhys, Eta, and Theta—were huddled in the corner, speaking in low voices.
Felix sat closest to Briar, his fingers unconsciously tracing the seam of his shirt.
"She's gonna be alright, right?" he asked, his voice barely a breath.
A wave of silence passed over the group, the question too big for any of them to answer with certainty.
Then Theta spoke, her voice steady. "She should be. The doctor said the worst of the swelling has gone down. It was a severe hit, but she should be alright."
Rhys ran a hand through his dark hair, his focus shifting. "We still have Emmett to worry about, and we don't even know where he is. Or who, exactly, took him."
Corbin leaned back against the sterile wall, his eyes calm and intensely focused. "Finding him shouldn't be much of a problem."
The others turned to him, their expressions a mix of desperate hope and skepticism.
Corbin reached into his pocket and brought out a dull piece of brass. He held up a single bullet casing. "This dropped when The Man fired the gun. It has the same crest as the other two casings we found in the ruins."
He turned the small casing so the others could see the intricate, coiled design stamped near the base.
Theta leaned closer, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "How exactly do you plan to use it to find the culprit?"
"The same way one uses any signature," Corbin replied, his voice flat. "It belongs to someone. And that someone has an extremely specific profile. Wealth, power, and a political standing. We use the archive data to match the crest, and we get a name."
The room fell silent again, the gravity of the task settling over them. They were relying entirely on Corbin's intellectual ability to save their friend.
After a moment, Corbin straightened his suit. "I'm going to check up on Theodore."
He nodded to Felix, a silent instruction to watch the room, and then left quietly, the sound of the door clicking shut leaving the four children alone with the unconscious Briar.
*********
Meanwhile
The Stein Household
The large steam-powered van came to a stop on a paved drive. Emmett was hustled out by the men, his mind still reeling from Piaxao's revelation. He stood on manicured stone in front of the house.
It wasn't as large as the grand Reed Manor in the old kingdom, but it was undoubtedly exquisite. The stone was smooth and pale, accented with dark ironwork that coiled around the windows—a style that now felt unsettlingly familiar. Lush grasses and bright, exotic flowers surrounded the path. Classical statues stood at designated areas, watching the approach with cold, indifferent eyes.
The large, double main door, heavy with carved wood and iron, opened suddenly.
A woman in her early to mid 30s stepped out. She was elegantly dressed and moved with an energetic purpose. Her face was bright, lit by an infectious smile as she walked quickly, almost excitedly, towards Emmett and Piaxao.
"Piaxao, darling, you're back so soon!" she called out.
Emmett noticed someone else, much shorter, lingering in the dark recess behind her, but he couldn't make out who it was.
The woman reached them and took Piaxao's arm, turning her radiant smile toward Emmett.
Emmett stared at Piaxao, a clear, silent question in his eyes: Who is this?
Piaxao, sensing the query, offered a smooth introduction. "This is Helena, Emmett. My wife."
Wife. Emmett registered the word with a cold sense of irony. He couldn't understand why almost every man he'd encountered in this nightmare—Baron Calvin, Theodore, and now Piaxao—had a wife. It was a jarring contrast to the violence and secrets that defined their lives.
Helena turned back to him, her smile warm and genuine. "Welcome to our home, young man. We're so glad you could join us."
Emmett didn't reply—his training forbade casual conversation with an unknown adult in an unsecured location—but he managed a fractional nod of acknowledgment, refusing to be outright rude.
Then, his attention fixed again on the shadows behind Helena. He saw it again: a small figure, a girl, a bit shorter than him, nervously shifting.
Helena and Piaxao noticed the direction of Emmett's gaze. Piaxao gave a small, indulgent smile.
"Come out, dear," Helena called, holding out a hand. "Don't be shy. Come and meet our guest."
The girl stepped out from behind Helena, hesitating for a moment. Up close, Emmett could see she was young, maybe a few years his junior. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, her head was tilted down, and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She avoided Emmett's gaze, fidgeting slightly with the hem of her simple dress—all the small, obvious symptoms of shyness.
Piaxao urged her gently, "Go on, tell Emmett your name."
The girl's voice was small, almost lost to the wind. "Regina."
Emmett's eyes widened, the cold mask of his soldier persona cracking with genuine surprise. He repeated the name, the shock causing him to stammer slightly.
"Regina?"