Klara grimaced as an icy gust of wind ripped across the crowded coil train platform in north Kosgrad. The mid-morning sun had little effect up here above the buildings of Expansion IV. In front of the platform ran a corkscrew-shaped track easily twelve feet in diameter and made from sculpted uzhasgart. Tall concrete pillars held it above the city until it plunged through a hole in the wall and streaked out over the greenhouses.

  Klara’s knees went weak at the thought of sitting trapped in a tube far above rocky ground and travelling faster than a galloping horse. Much faster. She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to ignore the giant coil.

  Nervous excitement crackled through the crowd of a hundred Sentinel wardens waiting to go to Borovsk. Each wore the new dark green Sentinel coat they’d received before leaving the Warrior Guild that morning. Like Klara, their hoods were up, and the new predatory half-masks hid their faces from the nose down. Each warden also carried a pack with a change of boots and clothes—all they were permitted to bring into the Sentinels.

  They’d come from across the country to be here, and her father had doubtless been up all night processing their paperwork, probably only breaking long enough to relieve himself. He’d been so busy that Klara hadn’t even had to try to avoid him, for which she was grateful.

  “So, finally here,” Zin said from beside Klara, her eyes sparkling gleefully above her half-mask.

  Klara managed a nod.

  “Oh come on, are you still worried about that brother of yours?”

  To be honest, she’d forgotten about him with the stress of boarding a coil train. But admitting that meant admitting the weakness to Zin, so she just nodded again.

  Zin watched Klara with concern. “Look,” she said, resting a hand on Klara’s shoulder, “I was pretty harsh last night. I just hate the idea of you throwing away all you’ve worked so hard to gain for someone who clearly doesn’t care. But maybe I was wrong about not helping him.”

  Klara’s eyebrows shot up. “You sounded pretty certain last night.”

  Zin winced. “Yeah… I know. I may have been a little drunk last night and not thinking clearly. I got a bit of perspective after… See, I received a message from my dad last night, and I guess it struck me how important family bonds are.” Her brow furrowed slightly, but she continued. “Being a Sentinel doesn’t erase those bonds.”

  “Well, that’s of no concern now, Mikhail stole my coat. He’s on his own.”

  “Sure, I understand that. I just wanted you to know… if you do hear from him, tell me. I want to help.”

  “Sure,” Klara said with a shrug.

  In the distance, a whistle blasted, and they both looked down the long corkscrew track.

  Klara exhaled slowly, her breath warming her face beneath her half-mask as she examined the deathtrap thundering towards them.

  A locomotive towed three carriages, each of which fit perfectly within the corkscrew track. Steam and smoke billowed from a vent atop the locomotive, and a huge drive wheel wrapped around the body, perpendicular to the track. Mikhail had tried to explain how it worked once, but all she’d understood was that somehow the drive wheel had smaller wheels sticking out of it which flanked the coiled track. As the drive wheel rotated, the smaller wheels rolled along the coil and dragged the train down the track. The coils of the track tightened the closer to a station they got—Mikhail had said that made it easier for the train to accelerate. Once over the plains, the coils were longer to give more speed.

  Or something like that. Mechanics frustrated her. If it worked that was all she really cared about.

  Metal screamed against metal as the train slowed. Two tiny figures peered out the small windows of the locomotive’s cab. One yanked on a cable and the whistle howled again.

  Zin slapped her back. “This is it! We’re gonna be Sentinels. Finally, real warriors!”

  Klara nodded. After years of dreaming about this day, now it was here, all she could think about were the broken pieces of family she’d left. Klara blew out another long breath, willing her hearts to a steady rhythm. She couldn’t focus on the past. A new family awaited her at Borovsk; her Sentinel family. A family she’d die defending if need be. A family she would drag kicking and screaming to Katavsk, with or without her father’s approval.

  The locomotive roared past followed by the three passenger carriages. Eager faces stared out the rows of windows. The third carriage came to a violent stop before Klara, and she clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. The single door juddered open, and passengers filed out, chatting as they pulled up their hoods and masks.

  Someone grabbed Klara’s arm, and she jumped.

  “Come on, what’re you waiting for?” Zin asked, dragging Klara into the press of wardens boarding the train.

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  Klara stepped through the doors and felt the curved walls close in, suffocating her. She froze, blocking the path.

  Zin darted down the aisle separating the two rows of benches and plopped onto one, patting the hard wood beside her, eyes twinkling.

  A warden jostled past, and Klara muttered an apology. He glanced at her, his black eyes unreadable. Those eyes…

  “Klara!” Zin said, snapping Klara’s attention away from the black-eyed warden.

  Klara swallowed and picked her way down the aisle to Zin, grateful for the mask hiding her nerves. Each step carried her further from the safety of the one escape. Reluctantly, Klara took a seat and stared out the window by Zin while she removed her hood and half-mask. So high. If just one pillar broke, they’d go plunging to their deaths.

  “Are you all right?” Zin asked, removing her own hood and mask.

  I’m sitting in a steel deathtrap forty feet off the ground. “I’m fantastic,” Klara said.

  With a hiss of steam and screech of metal, they crept forwards. As they picked up speed, Klara tensed and clung to the bench, watching the coils of the track drift past them.

  “I’m gonna go talk to Maxim,” Zin said, slipping past Klara.

  Klara nodded, shuffling to the window, her eyes locked on the buildings blurring by. A minute later, they passed through the city wall, and the ground dropped away as they roared over the expanse of greenhouses surrounding Kosgrad. There were thousands of greenhouses, each the size of the Warrior Guild main hall. For buildings so large, they looked so small from here. Klara drew a wavering breath and tried to drag her eyes away from the ground too far below.

  Beyond the fields of greenhouses, barren tundra stretched for miles before the Gromadnyy Range rose from the landscape. Their destination lay on the far side of the mountains.

  “Necessity breeds innovation,” a familiar voice said behind her.

  Klara frowned. Mikhail? She looked to see the black-eyed warden sitting on the bench behind her with his hood and half-mask still in place.

  “Long transportation time,” he said, “and a plant that only grows in warm climates led to a shortage of healing extract. Two years later, the greenhouse is invented. No more shortage.” There was a mischievous glint in his black eyes as he extended a hand. “Please forgive my manners. Borislav Avilov, from the Warrior Guild in Novagrad.”

  “Novagrad? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from there.” She shook his hand, noting his barely concealed wince.

  “Well,” he said, quickly disengaging his hand, “we southerners have a hard time adjusting to this cold, so it’s understandable few come here. And you are?” he asked.

  “Oh,” Klara said, heat rising to her cheeks. “Klara Koskova. Sorry, your voice reminded me of my brother. It was disconcerting.”

  Borislav laughed and moved to her bench. “Possibly,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “because I am.”

  Klara’s eyes widened as he unclipped his mask. “Mikhail?” Gone was his white hair and sideburns, replaced instead by brown hair and a full beard. He looks so much like Father.

  “Shhh. You’ll blow my cover,” he said, glancing around.

  “How did you get here?”

  A smile twitched his lips. “Let’s just say another name found its way onto the Sentinel recruit list.”

  Klara glared at him. “You forged papers. Why the depths would you tell me that?” Klara asked, blood pulsing in her neck, making it hard to breathe. “You selfish little yutzi mucker. Do you ever stop to think?”

  Mikhail flinched back, looking confused. “Whoa, calm down. I’m not asking for your help. You don’t have to say anything.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? Now I know you’re here, I have to inform the council. The code demands it.”

  “The code says to speak in truth. Don’t speak and you’re not lying.”

  Klara slammed her fist into the bench. “Withholding truth is lying. Why do you never stop to consider who you’ll hurt with your actions? You just charge in and let things fall as they may.”

  “All right, fine.” Mikhail ran a hand through his hair, his face pinched. “I just need to find an Alchemist. Once I find him, I’ll be gone. I won’t interfere with your training, and no one will find out I’m there. You can trust me.”

  “No. I can’t trust you.”

  “Klara, I’m your brother.”

  “Half-brother. And a liar and a thief.”

  “Please just forget I’m here,” Mikhail said, almost pleading. “I had no other choice. I have a mission, and it requires access to Sentinel forts—unless you really would rather see me dead, you’re going to have to live with that fact.”

  Klara turned and glowered out the window, her fists clenched and blood boiling. For a long minute, the only sounds were the chatter of excited wardens and the thundering rattle of the coil train. Klara continued to glare out the window at the greenhouses below. They approached the edge of the greenhouse fields, and the coil train dipped down as the pillars gradually shortened to fifty feet.

  Finally, Mikhail sighed. His coat rustled as he stood and his footfalls receded.

  A moment later someone thudded onto the bench beside Klara. “Who was that?” Zin asked.

  Klara looked over her shoulder and watched Mikhail as he found an empty bench and sat, his gaze fixed on the tundra outside. “He said his name was Borislav Avilov.”

  “Huh. What’d he want?”

  “To talk.” Klara turned to the window, trying to shake off the avalanche of nausea that threatened to crush her.

  “I can’t wait to start training,” Zin said. “I heard they let us use harpoon cannons there. That’ll be so much fun.” Zin continued to chatter, her words joining the cacophony of voices that filled the carriage.

  Klara gritted her teeth. Regardless of what her father insisted, or what Mikhail did, she would be the best. She would prove to the council at Borovsk that she was good enough for Katavsk and make them send her.

  No matter the cost…