“We’re not putting anyone on the throne. Some-one’s already sitting on it.” He eyed Caine’s sword, then took a step forward. It lifted, as if in warning.

“The queen?” Comprehension gleamed in Caine’s pale eyes. “She’s doing this?”

“And the duchess. You underestimated them, all of us did. They’ve been running the humanist revolution from the beginning.” Another step. Caine’s sword pressed into Leo’s chest and he pushed against it, their gazes locking—

With a snarl Caine threw the blade away. The sword fell with a clatter on the stairs. “This is insanity!”

“No, this is the only way forward. You know that,” Leo replied. “The only madness here is that of the prince consort.”

Again their eyes met. Caine looked furious.

“Do you think him any ally of yours? After the other day?”

A vein ticked in the duke’s jaw. “We swore… When the prince consort married the princess, we swore to uphold the regency. I gave my word.”

“He’s destroying the city, the people. You have to see that.”

Caine’s nostrils flared, watching as the Nighthawks clashed with a half-dozen Coldrush Guards that had streamed out of the antechambers to the ballroom.

“The world is changing,” Leo said firmly, taking another step. “There is a new future featuring blue bloods, humans, and mechs living as one. You can either be a part of it, or you can be swept away in the wake. Buried, like the rest of the relics from your era.”

Thought raced in his father’s eyes. “Damn you, this is not easy. He was my brother by blood. You’re asking me to break my oath, my word, my honor.”

“I’m asking you to do the right thing.”

In the silence, the sound of fighting grew louder. Something ancient shifted in Caine’s eyes. “Tell the queen that I shall expect a seat at her new Council.”

Of course. A duke until the very end. “In exchange for what?”

“For information,” Caine replied, “and for letting you pass so that you may save her.” He knelt against the wall, leather creaking over his thighs, his eyes deadening. “The prince consort has the entire building rigged with explosives. The detonator can be found in the hands of a Falcon named Rigby. You know him as one of the prince consort’s attendants, the one with a scar through his left eyebrow.”

Hell. “Why would the prince consort do that?”

“Because he’s so afraid to lose power that it has maddened him.” Caine gave a sad laugh. “Not even Balfour knows what he plans—I overheard the prince speaking to Rigby. They underestimated the strength of my hearing.”

“Where?” Leo took another hurried step forward, heat draining from his face. He’d sent Mina into that. “Damn you, where is Rigby?”

“The last I saw of him, he was instructed to watch the massacre from Crowe Tower. The prince consort has a flare gun that he’ll fire if things go badly for him.” A faint smile twitched the old man’s lips. “He’s determined that if he can’t hold the throne, then he’ll take as many of his enemies to the grave as he can.”

“And you were just on your way out when I came along. How convenient.” Leo’s voice dripped scorn.

“I know how this ends, boy.” Caine bared his teeth. “The Ivory Tower will fall and there will be no one left with the strength to hold the Empire together except for one.”

“You,” Leo said. “I’ll stop him. You know I will, so why the hell would you tell me this?”

The aging duke sighed and scraped a hand over his face. He looked incredibly tired all of a sudden. “When this is all over,” he said, “come to me and ask me again why I do this, but right now, you don’t have the time. You either go after your woman and save her life, or you find the man with the detonator.”

It was the hardest decision Leo had ever made. He wanted to go to Mina’s aid, but how could he trust that Caine wouldn’t simply walk away if he sent him after Rigby? And if he sent Nighthawks, would they recognize the Falcon in this melee? The man had been a personal attendant of the prince consort, well away from Nighthawk eyes. Only Leo knew exactly who he was hunting for.

Damn it. His gut clenched. Mina was surprisingly competent, and as far as the prince consort knew, she wasn’t involved with this affair. Perhaps she could get close to the queen when others would fail.

“Mina will get the queen away from danger,” he said, his voice cool and controlled, where he himself felt anything but. “I’ll deal with the Falcon.”

Caine picked up his blade and sheathed it.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” Caine replied. “I’ve had enough of this mess.”

“Not yet,” Leo found himself saying, stepping directly into Caine’s path. “You want a place on the queen’s Council? Then you have to earn it. Giving me a piece of information and then scurrying away, just in case this all goes to hell? Not good enough.” He shoved his finger in the duke’s chest. “Prove yourself. Claim your own damned seat on the Council. Go up and help get the queen out alive, and if you harm one hair on Mina’s head, I’ll come after you. I swear, by the blood, that I will see you dead, no matter what I have to do.”

Caine’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do you give the orders, you insolent pup?”

“Since now,” Leo snapped. “And I’m no pup, especially not yours.”

He thought for a second that Caine would draw his sword again. The duke’s gaze flickered to the surge of Nighthawks, and his head lowered in a contemplative bow. “And if a Falcon kills her before I can get there?”

“I’d highly recommend that one doesn’t. If she dies, I’ll hold you accountable.”

The duke stared at him. Something seemed to shift in his eyes, and he slowly nodded. “As you wish.”

Leo had made his decision. His heart urged him to go up, to find Mina and protect her—but if he did, then they would both die, together, when the prince consort fired his flare, along with everyone else in this building.

So Leo began running, this time down the stairs. Kicking a pair of Coldrush Guards in the back, he sent them sprawling at the feet of several bloodied Nighthawks. Lynch was one of them, his wife Rosalind at his side.