THE MOBILE FORTRESS
April 1987 — Harmonytis, Aelin
The Morning After
CONGRESS
The Congressional Hall was ancient, its stone walls bearing the weight of nine hundred years of governance. The vaulted ceiling was carved with the symbols of the five counties: the white opal of Harmonytis, the sapphire of Neart, the garnet of Draíocht, the emerald of Léirstinach, and the onyx of Ainmhithe.
Jace stood at the entrance, Samantha beside him, both dressed in formal Aelinian attire. His vest was the white and black of Harmonytis, embroidered with the Guardian's crest. His crown sat on his brow, and the Guardian Amulet rested against his chest.
Samantha wore a simple but elegant gown in cream and gold, her hair pulled back in a style that Galena had helped her with that morning. She looked terrified. And beautiful.
"You okay?" Jace whispered.
"Not even a little bit," Samantha whispered back.
"Me neither."
Galena appeared at their side, immaculate in a navy suit. Her expression was composed, but not cold. "Ready?"
"As we'll ever be," Jace said.
"Remember," Galena said quietly, "you speak first. Apologize for the breach in protocol. Then present your formal request. I'll handle the procedural motions. Samantha, you won't need to speak unless they ask you a direct question."
Samantha nodded, her hands clasped in front of her.
The doors opened.
The Congressional Chamber was full. All fifty representatives, one from each of the five counties' ten districts, sat in tiered rows facing the central podium. The Speaker of Congress, an older woman named Aoife Brennan, sat at the head table, her expression stern.
Jace and Samantha walked down the central aisle, their footsteps the only sound in the chamber.
When they reached the podium, Speaker Brennan's voice rang out, formal and deliberate. "His Majesty, High King Jason Beannú Elias, Guardian of Aelin, and Miss Samantha Wallace, stand before this Congress. You may speak, Your Majesty."
His hands gripped the edges of the podium.
"Honored Speaker. Distinguished members of Congress. I stand before you today to apologize."
A ripple of murmurs went through the chamber.
"Two days ago, I announced my engagement to Miss Samantha Wallace at a public event in the United States, before informing this Congress, and before following the proper protocols that have governed royal engagements for nine hundred years. This was not an act of disrespect. But it was an act of impatience. And regardless of my intentions, the result was the same: I undermined this body. I made you look foolish. You learned of your King's engagement from Aelinian Intelligence, not from your King himself."
"For that, I am sorry. Truly. This Congress is not a formality to me. You represent the people of Aelin. You are their voice. And I failed to honor that. I come before you now, as I should have come before, to formally request the approval of this Congress for my marriage to Samantha Wallace."
Speaker Brennan inclined her head. "The apology is noted and accepted, Your Majesty. The formal request is now before this body. Prime Minister Dallenger, you may present the case."
Galena stepped forward. "Honored Speaker, members of Congress. I present to you Miss Samantha Wallace, a citizen of the United States, and the chosen bride of our High King."
She gestured to Samantha, who stood quietly.
"Miss Wallace is twenty-four years old, a graduate of the University of Nevada with a degree in music production. She has served as the drum technician for Battle Cry since January 1984, demonstrating professionalism, skill, and loyalty."
"More importantly, she has proven herself in circumstances far beyond what any civilian should face. She was present when the Visionary was kidnapped in 1984. She witnessed the aftermath, the trauma, the reality of what this Brotherhood faces."
A murmur moved through the chamber.
"And when the entire Brotherhood was taken in 1986, Miss Wallace was here, in Harmonytis. She helped me maintain calm during one of the most terrifying crises our nation has faced in decades. She did not run. She did not break. She stayed, and she helped. She knows the truth of Aelin. She knows the Brotherhood's mission. She knows the danger. And she has chosen to stand beside our King regardless."
Galena's eyes swept the room.
"I have spent time with Miss Wallace. I have observed her character, her intelligence, and her devotion to His Majesty. It is my professional opinion that she is well-suited to the role of High Queen. And it is my personal opinion that she will serve this nation with honor."
She stepped back.
"I recommend approval."
Speaker Brennan nodded. "Thank you, Prime Minister. The floor is now open for questions."
A representative from Neart County stood, a broad-shouldered man named Cormac O'Reilly. "Your Majesty, with respect, Miss Wallace is not Aelinian. She was not raised in our culture. She does not speak our language. How can she be expected to rule as Queen?"
Jace opened his mouth, but Samantha spoke first.
"May I answer, Your Majesty?"
Jace blinked. "Of course."
Samantha turned to face Representative O'Reilly.
"You're right, Representative. I'm not Aelinian. I wasn't raised here. I don't speak your language... yet. But I'm learning."
"I know I have a lot to learn. About your history, your traditions, your people. But I also know that I love your King. And I believe in what he's fighting for. I've seen what Aldus does. I've seen the cost. And I want to help carry that burden."
"I'm not asking to replace anyone, or to change anything about Aelin. I'm asking for the chance to serve. To learn. To stand beside him. And if that means spending the rest of my life learning your language, your customs, your ways, then that's what I'll do."
Silence.
Then Cormac O'Reilly smiled. "That's a fair answer, Miss Wallace. Thank you."
He sat down.
Another representative stood, this one a younger woman from Léirstinach County. "Your Majesty, there is the matter of heirs. The succession. How do you intend to address this?"
Jace's jaw tightened. "We intend to have a family, Representative Síomha. When the time is right. Any children born of our union will be raised as Aelinian, with full knowledge of their heritage and responsibilities."
Representative Síomha nodded and sat.
A third representative stood, an older man from Draíocht County named Eamon Flannery. "Your Majesty, I have no question. Only an observation."
Jace inclined his head. "Please."
"You love her," Eamon said simply. "Anyone with eyes can see that. And she loves you. In my experience, that's a better foundation for a marriage than all the protocol in the world."
Quiet laughter moved through the chamber.
Eamon smiled. "I vote yes."
"Thank you, Representative Flannery," Jace said quietly.
Speaker Brennan looked around the chamber. "Any further questions?"
Silence.
"Then we shall proceed to the vote. All in favor of approving the marriage of High King Jason Beannú Elias to Miss Samantha Wallace, signify by raising your hand."
Hands rose across the chamber.
Speaker Brennan counted, her expression neutral.
"Forty-seven in favor."
She paused.
"Three abstentions. Zero opposed."
She struck her gavel once.
"The motion is approved. Congratulations, Your Majesty. Miss Wallace, you have the blessing of this Congress to become High Queen of Aelin."
The chamber erupted in applause.
Jace turned to Samantha. She looked up at him, tears on her face, and he pulled her into his arms.
"We did it," he whispered.
"We did," she whispered back.
Galena approached. "Well done, both of you. Especially you, Samantha. That answer to Representative O'Reilly was perfect."
"I meant every word," Samantha said.
"I know," Galena replied. "That's why it worked."
She looked at Jace. "Now. You have a tour to prepare for. And a wedding to plan." She handed him a folder. "But first, sign these. Marriage contract, succession agreements, all the boring legal things."
Jace took the folder. "When's the wedding?"
"That, Your Majesty, is up to you. But I'd recommend waiting until after the tour. Give yourselves time. Let Samantha settle in. Plan something beautiful."
Jace looked at Samantha. "What do you think?"
"I think," Samantha said, wiping her eyes, "that sounds perfect."
DEPARTURE
Three hours later, Jace and Samantha stood at the portal chamber beneath the royal castle, surrounded by the Brotherhood, Sidney, and a contingent of Aelinian Intelligence agents.
Nathan was checking a list on his clipboard, his crown glinting in the soft light. "Passports, tickets, itinerary, contact numbers... we're good."
Connor, dressed in his usual travel attire of jeans, boots, and his emerald-green vest, grinned at Jace. "Ready to go back to America, Your Majesty?"
"Don't start," Jace muttered, but he was smiling.
Erik hefted his duffel bag over one massive shoulder, Durandach's case strapped across his back. "We're really doing this. New bus. New tour. New security."
"New everything," Ricky added, bouncing on his heels. His crown was already tucked safely in his bag. He hated wearing it during travel.
Samantha stood close to Jace, her own bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around at the portal chamber: the ancient stone, the glowing runes, the shimmering gateway that would take them back to Los Angeles.
"I'm never going to get used to this," she said softly.
"Good," Jace said. "That means you're still sane."
Galena appeared, flanked by Yara. She walked straight to Nathan and kissed him. "Be safe, lyubov moya."
"Always," Nathan murmured.
She turned to Jace. "And you. No more announcing major life decisions without consulting me first."
"Yes, ma'am," Jace said.
"I'm proud of you. Both of you. You handled Congress beautifully."
"Thank you," Samantha said. "For everything."
Galena squeezed her hand. "Welcome to the family, dear."
Sidney stepped forward. "Alright, people. We're on a schedule. Portal to Los Angeles. Van to LAX. Flight to Orlando. We land at three p.m. local time. Gideon will meet us at the venue with the new bus."
"Let's move," Jace said.
One by one, they stepped through the portal, a ripple of light and energy that pulled them through the Veil, across thousands of miles in an instant, and released them in the hidden chamber beneath the Los Angeles warehouse.
When they emerged, the air smelled different. Warmer. Tinged with smog and city life.
"Welcome back to America," Connor said dryly.
They climbed into the waiting vans, unmarked, nondescript, driven by Aelinian agents, and headed for the airport.
The flight from LAX to Orlando was uneventful. Business class, surrounded by regular travelers who had no idea they were sitting near the High King of a hidden nation. Jace kept his crown tucked in his bag, his amulet hidden beneath his shirt.
But Samantha, sitting beside him, caught the tension in his shoulders.
"You okay?" she whispered.
"Yeah," Jace said. "Just thinking about Dave."
She squeezed his hand. "He'd be proud of you."
"I hope so."
When the plane touched down in Orlando, the Florida heat was immediate. Humid. Heavy. Oppressive.
"God, I hate this state," Ricky groaned, peeling off his leather jacket.
"You hate every state that's not Nevada or Hawaii," Erik pointed out.
"Fair."
Sidney led them through the terminal, past baggage claim, and out to the loading zone where another van waited.
"Venue's twenty minutes away," Sidney said. "Gideon's already there."
"Let's go see it," Jace said.
The van pulled away from the curb, and they headed into the heart of Orlando.
Orlando - The New Bus and the Three Voices
The Orlando venue parking lot was quiet in the early afternoon sun, that stillness that comes before a show when the crew is setting up and the band hasn't arrived yet. Battle Cry's van pulled into the lot, and immediately Jace felt something shift in the air.
There, gleaming in the Florida sunshine, was their new bus.
The van came to a stop, and nobody moved. They just stared.
"Holy shit," Ricky breathed.
The bus was massive, bigger than Dave's old converted coach, sleek and modern in a way that somehow still felt aggressive. The body was jet black, catching the light like armor. And across the side, in bold white letters that could be read from halfway across the parking lot: BATTLE CRY.
But it was the logo that made Jace's breath catch.
Five amulets in a perfect row, blue, red, white, green, black, representing each of them. Sapphire for Erik, garnet for Nathan, opal for Jace, emerald for Connor, onyx for Ricky. And from those amulets, wings spread down in graceful curves, forming a heart-shaped shield around the band's name. Below that, colored stripes ran horizontally along the lower half of the bus: blue, red, white, green, silver, the colors of Aelin's five counties.
"That's us," Connor said quietly. "That's actually us."
"All five of us," Nathan added, his voice thick. "Equal."
Samantha reached for Jace's hand and squeezed.
The van door opened and Sidney stepped out first, grinning. "Well? What do you think?"
"It's perfect," Jace said simply.
A figure emerged from the bus, tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the easy confidence of someone who had nothing to prove. Gideon. He was even bigger than Jace remembered from the shows where he'd been their security. Six-foot-six, wider than Erik, with close-cropped hair in a neat military cut and a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Gentlemen," Gideon said, his voice carrying easily across the parking lot. "And lady. Welcome to your new ride."
The tour took twenty minutes. Gideon walked them through every feature of the mobile fortress with the pride of someone showing off a masterpiece.
"Reinforced steel plating," he said, running a hand along the exterior. "Three-inch bulletproof glass. Armored fuel tank. This thing could take a hit from a rocket-propelled grenade and keep rolling."
"Jesus," Erik muttered.
"Twelve bunks," Gideon continued as they stepped inside. "You five, plus rotating security from Aelinian Intelligence, plus space for Sidney and myself. Two lounges, front and back. The front's where you'll probably spend most of your time. Dinette, galley kitchen, two full bathrooms with showers. This isn't just a bus. It's a home."
The front lounge was spacious, with two long couches facing each other, a couple of captain's chairs, and a small dinette tucked against one wall. Everything was done in deep violets and blacks, comfortable but practical.
"There's even a camera system," Gideon said, pointing to a small monitor mounted near the driver's seat. "I can see the front lounge from up here. Not to spy on you, just to make sure everyone's safe. Dave had something similar."
"I know I'm not Dave," he said quietly. "Nobody could replace him. But I want you to know, I take this job seriously. Keeping you safe, getting you where you need to go, making sure this bus is a place you feel secure. That's my mission now."
"Dave got you through the first half of this journey. He was there when you became the Brotherhood, when you became Battle Cry. He protected you, supported you, told me stories about all of you over the months I worked security." A slight smile. "And I mean ALL the stories. Dave didn't hold back."
A few chuckles from the band.
"But I also know," Gideon continued, "that you're not the same people from those early stories. You've been through things, hard things, that changed you. Matured you. Dave saw that too, toward the end. He was proud of who you'd become."
"So I'm not trying to replace him," Gideon said. "I'm picking up the torch. Dave carried you through the first part of becoming who you are. I'm here to carry you through the next part, as the Brotherhood, as Battle Cry, and as the rulers of Aelin. That's how I see this. That's the mission."
The lounge went quiet.
"Thank you," Jace said finally. "That means a lot."
"We appreciate that," Connor added softly.
Gideon nodded. "Now, before we hit the road, I need to brief you on a few things. Everybody comfortable?"
Jace and Samantha took one couch; Erik, Connor, Nathan, and Ricky took the other. Sidney dropped into a captain's chair. Gideon remained standing, hands clasped behind his back in a posture that still said Marine Corps even out of uniform.
"Alright," Gideon said. "I'm going to tell you a bit about myself, since we're going to be spending a lot of time together."
He paced slowly.
"Twenty-three years Marine Corps. Twelve of those as a drill instructor at Parris Island. I've been in combat zones, trained thousands of recruits, and learned how to read situations fast. After I retired two years ago, I did contract security work. That's how I ended up working as your security at shows. And after what happened in Albuquerque..."
He paused.
"After I saw what Dave did, how he protected you, I went to Sidney and asked if I could take over as your driver. Because the best way to protect you isn't from the outside looking in. It's from right here, behind that wheel. Like Dave did."
"Thank you," Connor said softly. "For wanting to do this."
Gideon nodded. "It's an honor." Then, lighter: "Now, I've got some battle scars. Marines always do."
He lifted his shirt, revealing a jagged scar along his ribs.
"Got this one in battle," he said.
"With a car door when I was nine."
Beat of silence.
Then the entire lounge erupted in laughter. Even Sidney cracked up.
"I slammed myself in the ribs trying to close my dad's Buick," Gideon said, grinning. "Hurt like hell. Left a scar."
"Oh my god," Samantha wheezed between laughs.
Gideon pointed to a faint scar on his forehead. "And this one? Got it during boot camp. Wasn't watching where I was going and ran straight into a flagpole."
More laughter.
"We all have war wounds," Gideon said, shaking his head. "Some of them are just from the war against inanimate objects."
Ricky was practically doubled over. "I love this guy!"
"Glad to hear it," Gideon said. "Because now we need to talk about something serious. How I communicate with you."
"I have three voices," Gideon said. "Three distinct ways I talk to you. You need to understand the difference between them because it could save your life."
"Voice One is what I call my comfort voice. It's soft, gentle. I use it when someone's hurt, scared, dealing with trauma, or just had a nightmare. It's the voice that says 'you're safe, I've got you.'"
Connor was sitting closest.
"Connor, you're up. I'm going to demonstrate."
Connor blinked. "What?"
Gideon moved toward him, then crouched down so he was at eye level with Connor on the couch. His entire demeanor shifted: shoulders relaxed, expression open and kind. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a murmur.
"Hey. It's okay. You're safe now. Whatever happened, it's over. I've got you. You're going to be alright."
Connor's head jerked up. The voice was so unexpected, so genuinely comforting, that for a second he didn't know how to respond.
Gideon straightened up, and the rest of the band immediately started snickering.
"Aww, Connor got the comfort voice!" Ricky teased.
"Shut up," Connor muttered, but he was smiling.
"That's Voice One," Gideon said. "If you hear me talk like that, it means someone needs care. Medical, emotional, whatever. That's the voice that says 'I'm here to help.'"
He stepped back to the center of the lounge.
"Voice Two is what you're going to hear most often. It's loud, it's playful, and it's designed to get you moving without scaring you. Watch."
Gideon planted his feet, took a breath, and suddenly his voice BOOMED through the lounge:
"MOVE IT, MONKEYS! GET YOUR BEAUTIFUL BUTTS ON THE BUS! MOVE IT! MOVE IT! MOVE IT!"
The sheer volume made everyone jump, but the words, "beautiful butts," immediately broke the tension. Nathan started laughing.
"That's Voice Two," Gideon said, back to his normal volume. "I might call you monkeys, beautiful butts, magnificent idiots, beautiful buttheads... doesn't matter. The point is to get your attention and get you moving. If you hear that voice from outside the bus, it means it's time to leave. We're running late, or we need to roll out. But you're safe. There's no danger. I'm just herding my musical monkeys."
"Beautiful butts," Ricky repeated, grinning. "I love it."
"You'll hear that one a lot," Gideon confirmed. "But Voice Three..." His expression turned serious. "Voice Three is different. And I need you to hear it to understand what it sounds like. But we can't do it in here. We need to go outside."
"Outside?" Nathan asked. "Why?"
"Because Voice Three is loud enough that I don't want to do it in an enclosed space," Gideon said. "Trust me. Outside."
Everyone exchanged glances, then stood. They filed off the bus.
The parking lot felt bigger now, more exposed. Gideon positioned everyone in front of the bus: the five band members, Samantha, and Sidney standing in a loose semicircle.
"Alright," Gideon said. "Voice Three is my drill instructor voice. My full Marine Corps, Parris Island, command-the-troops voice. I will ONLY use this voice in actual danger. If you hear Voice Three, it means a real threat: the Conqueror, his disciples, something supernatural and deadly. When you hear it, you get on this bus immediately. No questions. No delays. You drop whatever you're doing and you move."
"I'm going to demonstrate now so you know what it sounds like. So that if you ever hear it for real, your body will respond automatically. I need you to be ready for how loud this is going to be. Are you ready?"
"Yeah," Jace said. The others nodded.
Gideon took a step back. His entire posture changed: feet planted wide, shoulders squared, chest expanded. He drew a breath from deep in his diaphragm, his whole body coiling like a weapon.
Then he unleashed it.
"BROTHERHOOD!"
The word exploded across the parking lot like a thunderclap. Every single person flinched. The sheer VOLUME of it was startling, visceral.
"ON THE BUS!"
Command. Authority. No room for hesitation.
"THE ENEMY HAS COME!"
Specific. Precise. Not "danger." THE ENEMY. The supernatural threat they all knew.
"WE GO NOW! NOW! NOW!"
Three rapid-fire beats, like a drumbeat driving them forward. Urgent. Unyielding.
The echo faded. Silence.
Connor had winced at the volume. Ricky's shoulders had jerked back. Even Samantha had flinched, and Sidney had tensed.
Gideon relaxed. His posture softened.
"Is that perfectly clear?" he asked.
The entire band responded in perfect unison:
"YES SIR!"
Automatic. No hesitation. Like five soldiers snapping to attention.
Sidney started laughing.
Samantha looked at him, confused for a second, then realized what was so funny. These five grown men, musicians, rock stars, magical warriors, had just responded like little boys at boot camp. The "yes sir" had come out so fast, so synchronized, it was almost comical.
She started giggling too.
"What?" Erik asked, looking between Sidney and Samantha.
"Nothing," Sidney managed, still chuckling. "Nothing. I just... you all sounded very official there."
"Very 'yes sir, drill instructor, sir,'" Samantha added, grinning.
Jace shook his head, smiling despite himself. "That voice is... effective."
"That's the point," Gideon said. "If you ever hear Voice Three, I need your bodies to respond before your brains have time to process fear. That phrase, 'Brotherhood, on the bus, the enemy has come, we go now now now,' is specific. I'll say it exactly the same way every time. Same words, same cadence. So there's no confusion."
"And Voice Two will never sound like that," Nathan said.
"Exactly," Gideon confirmed. "Voice Two has jokes, affection, patience. 'Beautiful butts,' 'I love you monkeys,' 'please get moving.' Voice Three has none of that. It's pure command. So if you hear me yelling but I'm calling you beautiful butts? We're just late. But if you hear 'Brotherhood, on the bus, the enemy has come'? Move."
Connor rubbed his chest. "I felt that in my sternum."
"Good," Gideon said. "That means it worked. Your body registered the threat level. That's what keeps you alive."
"I get it now," Ricky said quietly. "Why we needed to hear it."
"So you know the difference," Gideon said simply. "So you trust that I won't use Voice Three unless it's real. And so that if the moment comes, you'll move without thinking."
Jace extended his hand. "Thank you. For taking this seriously. For protecting us."
Gideon shook his hand firmly. "It's my honor, boss. Now, let's get back on this beautiful bus and get ready for your show tonight. You've got a venue full of people waiting to hear Battle Cry tear the roof off."
Back in the front lounge, Sidney leaned forward in his captain's chair.
"We should talk about emergency protocols," he said. "Specifically, extraction."
Gideon nodded. "Good thinking."
Sidney looked at Ricky. "You're the Sentinel. Your job in an emergency is extraction. If Voice Three happens, you portal whoever you can reach directly onto the bus."
Ricky nodded. "Already planning on it. I grab whoever's closest, portal them to safety."
"And Jace can borrow that ability," Nathan added. "They've been working on it back in Aelin."
"Both of you can teleport people to safety?" Gideon asked.
"Getting better at it," Jace confirmed. "Still practicing the coordination."
"How many people can you move at once?" Gideon asked.
Ricky considered. "One for sure. Two if they're close together. Maybe three if I'm really focused."
"Same," Jace said. "It's harder when I'm borrowing Ricky's power, but doable."
"This is worth drilling," Sidney said. "Emergency extraction. We should run scenarios."
"What if we set it up as a game?" Samantha said. "Make it fun instead of just... militaristic drills?"
"A game?" Gideon asked, intrigued.
"Yeah. Something that tests the skills but keeps it engaging. Less stressful."
Connor grinned. "Anya would be perfect for this. She could design something brilliant and probably make it hilarious."
"Who's Anya?" Gideon asked.
"Friend of ours," Ricky said, grinning. "Met her back in '83 on the road."
Gideon paused. "Wait. Is this the lady Dave told me about? The one who got you into all kinds of smutty trouble right after you first got your powers?"
The entire band groaned in unison.
"Of COURSE Dave told you about that," Erik muttered.
"Dave told you EVERYTHING, didn't he?" Nathan said, shaking his head.
"He did," Gideon said. "Over the months I worked security. He had a lot of stories." He chuckled. "A LOT of stories."
"The stamina contest?" Connor asked, resigned.
"Among other things," Gideon confirmed. "He thought it was hilarious."
Jace shook his head, smiling. "Yes, that's Anya. But she's also genuinely creative and she knows how we all think."
"Very well, apparently," Samantha added, amused.
"If Dave's stories were accurate," Gideon said, "she'd probably design one hell of a training exercise."
"She would," Jace agreed. "I'll call her after sound check, see if she wants to come help us set something up."
"I'm all for it," Gideon said. "This sounds like much better training than just marching in place or being magically propelled into a pool."
Sidney laughed, a genuine, surprised sound, and leaned back in his chair.
"You know Geoffrey," Sidney said, still chuckling.
"Met him a few times through Aelinian Intelligence," Gideon said. "The man's creative with his training methods, I'll give him that."
"Creative is one word for it," Sidney managed.
"So we'll set it up," Jace said. "Emergency extraction training disguised as a game. Anya designs it, we practice, Gideon observes."
"Perfect," Gideon said. "Just one rule: whatever she comes up with, it needs to be realistic enough that you're actually challenged. Games are fine, but the training has to be real."
"Knowing Anya," Ricky said with a grin, "it'll be both."
They had a few hours before sound check, and the Florida sun was warm and inviting. Nathan grabbed the bus's video camera.
The thing was massive, a 1987 VHS shoulder-mount that required loading an actual tape cartridge.
"Get a shot of the logo!" Connor called out.
Nathan panned the camera across the side of the bus, capturing the Battle Cry name in bold white letters, the five amulets with their spreading wings, the colored stripes representing Aelin's counties.
"This is gorgeous," Nathan said from behind the camera. "Okay, everyone get in front of it!"
Jace and Gideon started it, both of them shirtless in the Florida heat, striking ridiculous bodybuilder poses in front of the bus. Double bicep flexes, serious faces that lasted about three seconds before they both started laughing.
"Oh, we're doing THIS?" Erik said, immediately pulling off his shirt.
"Apparently!" Connor joined in, and suddenly there was a full-on flexing competition happening in the parking lot.
Gideon fit right in, his massive frame making even Erik look almost normal-sized. He struck a pose, prayer hands while flexing, that made everyone lose it.
"That's your zen bodybuilder pose?" Jace wheezed between laughs.
"I contain multitudes," Gideon said serenely, holding the pose.
Samantha got in on it too, flexing alongside the guys in her tank top and jeans, grinning hugely. "Do I have beautiful butts too, Gideon?"
"Everyone on this tour has beautiful butts, ma'am!" Gideon called back. "Now get in the shot!"
Sidney appeared at one point wearing a t-shirt that said "Yes, I manage these musical monkeys..." which sent everyone into hysterics.
"SIDNEY!" Ricky howled. "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?"
"I had it made," Sidney said primly. "It's accurate."
Nathan kept filming: the flexing, the laughter, Samantha posing confidently in front of the bus, Connor and Ricky hamming it up with increasingly ridiculous faces.
Then Erik, grinning mischievously, scooped Samantha up in a piggyback carry.
"ERIK!" she shrieked, laughing. "What are you..."
Erik took off running.
Nathan swung the camera to follow them as they sprinted past: Samantha laughing hysterically, her hair flying, Erik's huge grin visible even in profile.
"ERIK! PUT ME DOWN! ERIK!"
They ran straight through the frame and disappeared around the other side of the bus.
Beat of silence.
Nathan kept the camera rolling, pointed at the empty space where they'd just been.
"That was weird," Jace said from off-camera.
Then, not even three seconds later...
Ricky came RUNNING through the same path, carrying Connor.
Connor was perched on Ricky's raised thigh like he was sitting on some kind of bizarre throne, and he was SCREAMING in mock terror like a damsel in distress.
"PUT ME DOWN! UNHAND ME YOU FIEND!"
Ricky's mouth was open in what was clearly supposed to be a menacing villain expression, but it just looked gleeful and slightly unhinged. His wavy hair flew behind him as he ran.
They blazed through the frame, entering just as Erik and Samantha had, and exiting the shot after twirling Connor around and zooming out of the frame.
Silence again.
"You two are just not right!" Nathan yelled from behind the camera, laughing.
Jace was doubled over laughing somewhere off-screen.
"Literally two seconds later!" Jace managed. "Oh, God... I can't!"
Sidney's voice, dry as dust: "Musical monkeys."
Gideon's laugh boomed across the parking lot. "I love this job already!"
A few minutes later, Erik came back around carrying Samantha again. This time she had one leg extended horizontally, both of them laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
Ricky carried Connor through the frame again. This time Connor was almost completely upside down over his shoulder, kicking his feet and still screaming like a demented Girl Scout. His face wasn't visible through the curtain of black curls, but the sound was definitely the highlight of the moment. Jace was laughing somewhere off-screen, trying to speak and failing entirely.
Suddenly, there was an off-camera yelp of surprise, followed by laughter from everyone, including Nathan behind the camera. Seconds later, Gideon came running through... carrying Jace, who was still not able to breathe due to laughter. He only managed a look at the camera and croaked out, "Help!"
By the time they packed up for sound check, they had nearly a full tape.
"We're keeping this forever," Connor declared.
"Blackmail material," Ricky agreed.
"Historical documentation," Nathan corrected. "First day with the new bus. First day with Gideon."
"First day of the second half," Jace added quietly, glancing at the armored fortress that would carry them forward.
Gideon caught his eye and nodded.
The Orlando venue was packed. Wall to wall bodies, the energy already building before the first note. Battle Cry had been away for months, the kidnapping, the recovery, the grief over Dave, and their fans had been waiting.
From his position stage right, Gideon stood like a fortress. Arms folded across his broad chest, sunglasses on despite the indoor lighting, expression neutral but watchful. He looked exactly like what he was supposed to look like: high-priced security. The kind of presence that made people think twice.
Several fans near the front had clearly considered rushing the stage. Gideon had watched them: the lean forward, the calculation of distance. Then they'd looked at him, six-foot-six, wider than the Viking bassist, completely still, and reconsidered.
No stage jumpers tonight.
Good.
Gideon had watched them perform dozens of times working security. Tonight was different. This was the first night of the second half. And the band was on fire.
Connor owned the stage: running, jumping, his long dark curls flying as he moved. He'd leap up onto the drum riser where Jace and Nathan shared space, dance with Nathan at the keyboards on the left side, then spin and crouch near Jace's drums on the right, singing directly to his bandmate. The mic cable limited how far he could roam, but he made the most of every inch of it.
Jace, elevated on the riser, had the best view of everything: the stage, the crowd, his brothers. His amber-gold eyes tracked Connor's movements, the empathic bond between them allowing him to anticipate every shift. When Connor came close, Jace grinned and never missed a beat, the Guardian's precision absolute.
Nathan was a blur of controlled motion at the keyboards, his reddish-auburn curls catching the stage lights as his fingers flew across the keys. He and Jace could see each other clearly from their shared riser, and the musical communication between them was seamless.
Erik was a Viking warrior in black leather, his bass lines anchoring everything, blue eyes intense with focus. And Ricky, chaos made manifest, moved like liquid mercury, his guitar work technical and wild in equal measure.
Then came "Take My Hand."
Seven minutes and forty-seven seconds.
Gideon felt it in his chest when Jace's voice came through the monitors for the opening verse: rich, controlled, grounded. Then Connor took the chorus and went stratospheric, his voice climbing into registers that shouldn't have been possible, holding notes that made the crowd lose their minds.
They traded vocals back and forth throughout the song, Jace's steady verses anchoring Connor's soaring choruses. The guitars layered and built, Erik's bass thrummed through the floor, Nathan's keyboards added texture and depth, and Jace's drums drove it all forward with relentless precision.
The crowd went silent during the quiet moments. Then erupted when it built back up. It was nearly eight minutes of watching five men operate as a single organism, and Gideon understood, bone-deep, why Dave had loved them so much.
Later in the set came "I Want You," and the entire venue screamed the title back at them. Thousands of voices yelling "I WANT YOU!" in unison, the band grinning and feeding off the energy.
By the time the set ended, Gideon understood what Dave had been protecting.
The new bus was nearly silent as it ate up the miles between Orlando and Miami. A different world from Dave's old coach, which had rattled and groaned for every mile.
Gideon sat in the driver's seat, hands relaxed on the wheel, eyes on the dark highway ahead. The dashboard monitor showed the front lounge: the band sprawled on the couches, Samantha curled up next to Jace, Sidney in one of the captain's chairs reviewing paperwork.
The intercom was silent. No click. No static. The new system was completely soundless until someone spoke. They'd have no idea he was listening unless he announced himself.
Tonight, though, he wanted them to know he was there.
Gideon pressed the button. No click. Just his voice through the lounge speakers.
"How's everyone doing back there?"
In the monitor, he saw several heads jerk up in surprise. No one had heard the intercom activate. Just suddenly... Gideon's voice.
"Jesus!" Ricky yelped, hand over his heart. "Warn a guy!"
Connor laughed. "There's no click! We didn't hear it turn on!"
"That's the idea," Gideon said, amused. "New system. Silent activation. Just so you know, I can hear you when the intercom's open. You won't always know when I'm listening. So if you're planning to talk about me, make sure it's nice."
"Noted," Nathan said, grinning.
"Also," Gideon continued, "I want you to know something up front. Dave told me a lot about you guys over the months I worked security. A lot. Stories about the early days, the powers, the... creative uses of those powers."
In the monitor, he watched them exchange glances.
"But I need you to understand: anything Dave told me, anything I learn about you, stays with me. I might discuss logistics with Sidney, but that's it. Your secrets are safe. I know what's at risk if the wrong people find out about the Brotherhood, about Aelin, about what you can do. That information doesn't leave this bus."
"Thank you, Gideon. That means a lot." Jace's voice came through the intercom a second later.
"You're welcome, boss. Now, since we've got a few hours ahead of us, anybody got questions for me? I'm an open book tonight."
"How old were you when you enlisted?" Nathan asked.
"Eighteen," Gideon said. "Straight out of high school. 1962. My dad was a Marine, my grandfather was a Marine. It was expected, and I wanted it. Wanted to serve."
"Vietnam," Connor said quietly.
"Two tours," Gideon confirmed. "Sixty-six and sixty-nine. Saw combat both times. Lost friends. Came home different than I left."
The lounge fell silent.
"That's where you learned to read situations fast," Jace said. It wasn't a question.
"That's where I learned a lot of things," Gideon agreed. "How to stay calm under pressure. How to protect the people next to you. How to make decisions when there's no time to think. The Corps made me who I am. For better or worse."
"You became a drill instructor after that?" Erik asked.
"Few years later. Finished my combat tours, did some stateside work, then went to DI school at Parris Island. Spent twelve years there, training recruits. That's where I learned the voice." A slight chuckle. "Voice Three, as you now know it."
"Did you ever have to use it?" Samantha asked.
"The drill instructor voice? Every day. That's the job. But the emergency version, the one I showed you today, that came from Vietnam. When you need people to move NOW, when their lives depend on instant obedience, you learn to project command in a way that bypasses conscious thought."
"And you'll only use it with us if we're in real danger," Ricky said.
"Exactly. That's a promise."
Connor shifted on the couch. "What made you retire from the Corps?"
"Twenty-three years was enough," Gideon said. "I'd given what I had to give. Seen enough combat, trained enough Marines. It was time to do something else. Security work seemed like a natural fit. Then I met you guys, heard your music, saw what Dave did..." He paused. "And I knew I wanted to be part of this. Protecting you feels right. Important."
"It is important," Sidney said quietly. "What you're doing."
"I know, sir. That's why I take it seriously."
"Dave told me about the Mötley Crüe incident in great detail," Gideon said, trying not to laugh. "He was very proud of that story. Especially the part about Ricky doing the Bugs Bunny voice while giving Nikki Sixx a manicure."
"Oh god," Ricky groaned.
"And Jace's... special talent," Gideon added delicately.
"Dave told you about THAT?!" Jace sputtered.
"Dave told me about everything. Including the fact that you won a stamina contest against Mötley Crüe."
The lounge exploded in laughter and groans.
"That man had no filter," Nathan managed between laughs.
"He wanted me prepared," Gideon said. "He told me you guys were brilliant, talented, powerful, and occasionally prone to ridiculous decisions. Said I should expect chaos and roll with it."
"Smart man," Connor said.
"The smartest," Gideon agreed softly. "He loved you guys. Talked about you like you were his kids."
"We loved him too," Jace said finally.
"I know. I saw it every time he talked about you. And I saw what he did in Albuquerque. That's why I'm here. To honor what he started. To keep you safe like he did."
"You're doing a good job so far," Erik said quietly.
"Appreciate that. Now..." His tone eased. "Anybody hungry? We're about an hour out from Miami, but there's a truck stop coming up in fifteen if anyone needs a break or wants food."
"I could eat," Ricky said immediately.
"Of course you could," Nathan teased.
"Truck stop it is," Gideon said. "Fifteen minutes, monkeys. Be ready to move when I pull in."
"Yes sir!" they chorused, then dissolved into laughter.
Gideon smiled as he drove. The intercom was silent. He could hear them in the lounge anyway: laughing, talking, alive.