Glass Sword

21

She’s holding the pistol wrong. Even I know that. It’s too big for her, made of shimmering black metal, with a barrel nearly a foot long. Better suited to a trained soldier rather than a shivering, slight teenage girl. A soldier, I realize with cold clarity. A Silver. It’s the same kind of gun a Sentinel shot me with, so long ago in the cells deep beneath the Hall of the Sun. The bullet felt like a blow from a hammer and went straight through my spine. I would’ve died if not for Julian and a blood healer under his control. In spite of my ability, I raise my hands, palms open in surrender. I’m the lightning girl, but I’m not bulletproof. But she takes this as a threat instead of submission, and tenses, her finger itching too close to the trigger.

“Don’t move,” she hisses, daring to take another step toward me. Her skin, the dark, rich color of blackwood bark, offers her perfect camouflage in the forest. And yet, I see the red bloom beneath, and the tiny scarlet veins webbing the whites of each eye. I gasp to myself. She’s Red. “Don’t bleeding think about it.”

“I won’t,” I tell her, tipping my head. “But I can’t speak for him.”

Her brows furrow in confusion. She doesn’t have time to be afraid. Shade appears behind her, solidifying out of thin air, and wraps her up in an expert military hold. The gun falls from her grasp, and I snatch it before it can hit the rocky ground. She fights, snarling, but with Shade’s arms firmly locked behind her head, she can’t do much more than sink to her knees. He follows, keeping her firmly in hand, his mouth set in a grim line. A scrawny girl is no match for him.

The gun feels foreign in my hand. It’s not my chosen form of weapon—I’ve never even shot one before. I almost laugh at that. To come so far without even firing a gun.

“Get your Silver hands off me!” she growls, struggling against Shade’s grip. She’s not strong, but slippery, with long, lean muscles. Keeping her still is like holding on to an eel. “I won’t go back, I won’t! You’ll have to kill me!”

Sparks crackle in my empty hand, while the other still clutches the gun. The sight of my lightning freezes her immediately. Only her eyes move, widening in fear.

Her tongue darts out, wetting dry and cracked lips. “Knew I recognized you.”

Cal’s heat outruns his body, enveloping me in a pocket of warmth moments before he skids to my side. His fingertips burn blue with fear, but his flames recede at the sight of the girl.

“I got you a present,” I mutter, pressing the gun into his hand. He glares at it, seeing exactly what I saw.

“How did you get this?” he asks, dropping to a crouch so he can look her in the eye. His manner, cold and firm, takes me back to the last time I watched him interrogate someone. The memory of Farley’s screams and frozen blood still turns my stomach. When she doesn’t answer, he tightens, a coil of hard muscle. “This gun? How?!”

“I took it!” she rages back, squirming. Her joints crack with the action.

I wince with her, and lock eyes with my brother. “Let her be, Shade. I think we can handle this fine.”

He nods, glad to let go of the wriggling teenager, and releases her. She pitches forward, but catches herself before eating dirt. She skirts away from Cal’s attempt to help. “Don’t touch me, Lordy.” She looks liable to bite, her teeth bared and gleaming.

“Lordy?” he mutters under his breath, now just as confused as the girl.

Above her, Shade narrows his eyes in realization. “Lordy. High lords—Silvers. It’s slum slang,” he explains for our benefit. “What Town are you from?” he asks her, his tone much kinder than Cal’s. It takes her off guard, and she glances at him, her black eyes darting in fear. But she keeps looking back at me, transfixed by the thin spindles of sparks between my fingers.

“New Town,” she finally replies. “They took me from New Town.”

Now it’s my turn to bend, so I can look at her fully. She seems like my opposite, long and lean where I am short, her braided hair a gleaming oil black while mine fades from brown to splinters of gray. She’s younger than me; I can see it in her face. Maybe fifteen or sixteen, but her eyes speak of weariness beyond her short years. Her fingers are long and crooked, probably broken by machinery too many times to count. If she’s from the New Town slum, she’s a techie, doomed to work the factories and assembly lines of a city born in smoke. There are tattoos on her neck, but nothing so superfluous as Crance’s anchor. Numbers, I realize. NT-ARSM-188907. Big and blocky, two inches high, wrapping halfway around her throat.

“Not pretty, is it, lightning girl?” she sneers, noting my gaze. Disdain drips from her words like venom from fangs. “But you don’t like to bother with ugly things.”

Her tone grates, and I’m tempted to show her exactly how ugly I can be. Instead, I hearken back to my court training and do what so many did to me. I smirk in her face, laughing quietly. I hold the cards here, and she needs to know it. Her expression sours, annoyed by my reaction.

“You took this from a Silver?” Cal presses on, gesturing to the gun. His disbelief is plain for all to hear. “Who helped you?”

“No one helped. You should know that firsthand,” she throws back. “Had to do it all myself. Guard Eagrie didn’t see me coming.”

“What?” Only my lessons with Lady Blonos keep me from gasping outright. A soldier of House Eagrie. The House of Eyes. Any one of them can see the immediate future, like lesser versions of Jon. It’s almost impossible for a Silver to attack them without them knowing, let alone a Red girl. Impossible.

She only shrugs. “Thought Silvers were supposed to be tough, but she was nothing. And fighting was better than waiting around in my cell. For whatever they had planned.”

Cell.

I fall back on my heels, leveled by understanding. “You escaped from Corros Prison.”

Her eyes fly to mine, and her lower lip quivers. It’s the only indication of the fear coursing beneath her enraged exterior.

Cal’s hand finds my elbow, steadying me. “What’s your name?” he asks, his tone taking on a gentler edge. He treats her like a spooked animal, and that provokes her like nothing else.

She stands quickly, fists clenched, making the veins stand out in arms scarred by years of factory work. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she might bolt. Instead, she digs her feet into the dirt and straightens her spine with pride.

“My name is Cameron Cole, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to be on my way.”

She’s taller than me, as graceful and elegant as any lady of court. My head barely reaches her chin when I draw myself up to my full height, but the flicker of fear is still in her. She knows exactly who and what I am.

“Cameron Cole,” I repeat. Julian’s list floods my thoughts, her name and information with it. And then, the records from Harbor Bay, more detailed than Julian’s findings. I feel quite like Ada when I spit back what I remember, my words quick and sure. “Born January third, 305, in New Town. Occupation: Apprentice mechanic, indentured by Assembly and Repair, Small Manufacturing Sector. Address: Unit Forty-Eight, Block Twelve, Residence Sector, New Town. Blood type: Not applicable. Gene mutation, strain unknown.” Her mouth falls open, letting loose a tiny gasp. “Does that sound right?”

She can barely nod her head in agreement. Her whisper is even weaker. “Yes.”

Shade whistles under his breath. “Damn, Jon,” he murmurs, shaking his head. I nod at him, agreeing. What he sent us to find wasn’t an it at all, but a who.

“You’re a newblood, Cameron. Just like Shade and me. Red-blooded, with Silver abilities. That’s why they locked you up in Corros, and that’s why you were able to escape. Whatever ability you have set you free, so you could find us.” I take a step toward her, meaning to embrace my newblood sister, but she darts away from my touch.

“I didn’t escape to find you,” she spits.

I smile as best I can for her, trying to put her at ease. After so many recruits, the words come out easy. I know exactly what to say, and exactly how she’ll respond. It’s always the same. “You don’t have to come, of course, but you’ll die alone. King Maven will find you again—”

Another step back, shocking me. She sneers, shaking her head. “The only place I’m going is the Choke, and not you or your lightning can stop me.”

“The Choke?” I exclaim, perplexed.

Next to me, Cal tries his best to be civil. His best isn’t very good.

“Idiocy,” he snaps. “The Choke has more Silvers than you know, each one instructed to arrest or kill you on sight. If you’re lucky, they’ll take you back to prison.”

The side of her mouth twitches. “The Choke has my twin brother and five thousand others like him marching right into a grave. They’d have me too if it weren’t for whatever it is that put me in prison. You might be all right with abandoning your own, but I’m not.”

Her breath comes hard and harsh. I almost see the scales tipping back and forth in her head, weighing her options. She’s easy to read, wearing her thoughts and emotions plainly in every twitch of her face. I don’t flinch when she runs, sprinting into the trees. We don’t follow, and I feel Shade and Cal watching me, waiting for what to do next.

I told myself I would give everyone a choice. I let Jon go, even though we needed him. But something tells me we need Cameron even more, and that the young girl can’t be trusted, not with a decision this monumental. She doesn’t know how important she is, no matter her ability. She got out of Corros somehow, and she’s going to get us back in.

“Grab her,” I whisper. It feels wrong.

Shade disappears with a grim nod. Deep in the woods, Cameron screams.

I had to trade seats with Farley, letting her take my pilot’s chair so I can sit across from Cameron and keep an eye on her. She’s firmly strapped in, with her hands bound in a spare safety belt. That, paired with our current altitude, should be enough to keep her from bolting again. But I’m not willing to take such a chance. For all I know, she can fly or survive a fall from an airjet. As much as I want to use the journey back to the Notch to catch up on much-needed sleep, I keep my eyes open, meeting her glare with as much fire as I can muster. She chose wrong, I tell myself every time the guilt creeps up. We need her, and she’s worth too much to lose.

Nanny babbles at her side, regaling her with tales of the Notch as well as her own life story. I half expect her to pull out the weathered photographs of her grandchildren, as she always does, but Cameron stands firm where none of us could. Even the kindly old woman cannot get through to the scowling girl, who stays silent and staring at her feet.

“What’s your ability, dear? Superhuman rudeness?” she finally scoffs, fed up with being ignored.

That gets Cameron to at least turn her head, wrenching her eyes off the floor. She opens her mouth to sneer back, but instead of an old woman, she finds herself staring at her own face. “Stop the line!” she curses, letting loose more of her slum slang. Her eyes widen and her bound hands squirm, trying to get free. “Is anyone else seeing this?”

I chuckle darkly to myself, not bothering to hide my smirk. Leave it to Nanny to scare the girl into speaking. “Nanny can shift her appearance,” I tell her. “Gareth manipulates gravity.” He waves from his makeshift stretcher fixed to the side of the plane. “And you already know about the rest.”

“I’m useless,” Farley chirps from her seat. A blade flicks back and forth in her hands, betraying exactly how wrong she is.

Cameron snorts, her eyes following the knife as it flashes. “Just like me.” There isn’t a shred of pity in her voice, only fact.

“Not true.” I pat Julian’s journal at my side. “You got past an eye, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Well, that’s all I’ve ever done, or will ever do.” The straps around her arms twist, but hold firm. “You grabbed a nobody, lighting girl. You don’t want to waste your time on me.”

Coming from anyone else, it might sound sad, but Cameron is smarter than that. She thinks I don’t see what she’s doing. But no matter what she says, no matter how useless she tries to make herself seem, I won’t believe it. Her name is on the list, and that’s no mistake. Maybe she doesn’t know what she is yet, but we will certainly find out. I’m not blind either. Even while I hold her challenging stare, letting her think she has me fooled, I’m aware of her deeper game. Her able fingers, trained on a factory floor, work at her bindings with slow but sure efficiency. If I don’t keep an eye on her, it won’t be long until she twists out of her restraints.

“You know Corros better than any of us.” As I speak, Nanny morphs back to her usual self. “That’s enough for me.”

“You got a mind reader here then? ’Cause that’s the only way you’re getting a bleeding word out of me.” I half expect her to spit at my feet.

Despite my best efforts, I find myself losing my patience. “You’re either useless or you’re resistant. Pick one.” She raises an eyebrow, surprised by my tone. “If you’re going to lie, you might as well do it properly.”

The corner of her mouth twitches, betraying a wicked grin. “Forgot you know all about that.”

I hate children.

“Don’t act so high-and-mighty,” she presses on, throwing words like daggers. Besides her voice, the drone of the jet fills the air. The others are listening intently, Cal most of all. I expect to feel heat rise at any moment. “You’re no lordy lady now, no matter how many of us you try to order around. Bedding a princeling doesn’t make you queen of the heap.”

Lights flicker over her head, the only indication of my anger. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cal tighten his grip on the jet controls. Like me, he’s doing his best to keep calm and reasonable. But this bitch insists on making it so difficult. Why couldn’t Jon send us a map instead?

“Cameron, you’re going to tell us how you escaped that prison.” Lady Blonos would be proud of my composure. “You’re going to tell us what it looks like, where the cells are, where the guards are, where they keep the Silvers, the newbloods, and everything else your remember, down to the last bleeding nail. Is that clear?”

She flicks one of her many braids over her shoulder. It’s the only thing she can move without straining against her many belts and straps. “What’s in it for me, then?”

“Innocence.” I heave a breath. “You keep running your mouth and you leave all those prisoners to their fate.” Jon’s words float back to me, a haunting echo of a warning. “To die, or face worse. I’m saving you from the guilt of that.” A guilt I know too well.

There’s a slow pressure at my shoulder—Shade. Leaning into me, letting me know he’s there. A brother in blood and arms, another to share in victory, and blame.

But instead of agreeing, as any rational person should, Cameron looks even angrier than before. Her face darkens, a thundercloud of emotion. “Can’t believe you’ve got the stones to say that. You, who abandoned so many after you sentenced them to the trenches.”

Cal’s had enough. He slams a fist onto the arm of his chair. It echoes bluntly. “That wasn’t her order—”

“But it was your fault. You and your stupid band of ratty red rags.” She tosses a glare at Farley, cutting off any retort she might throw. “Gambling with our families, our lives, while you ran and hid in the woods. And now you think you’re some kind of hero, flying around saving everyone you think is special, who’s worth the lightning girl’s precious time. I bet you walk right through the slums and the poor villages. I bet you don’t even see what you’ve done to us.” The blood rises with her anger, coloring her cheeks in a dark, lurid flush. I can’t do much more than stare. “Newbloods, silverbloods, redbloods, it’s all the same, all over again. Some who are special, some who are better than the rest, and the ones who still have nothing at all.”

Sickness rolls in my belly, a foreboding wave of dread. “What do you mean?”

“Division. Favoring one over the other. You’re on the hunt for people like you, to protect them, to train them, to make them fight your war. Not because they want to, but because you need them. What about those kids going to fight? You don’t care about them at all. You’d trade them all for another walking, whining spark plug.”

The lights flicker again, faster than before. I feel every revolution of the jet engines, despite their blinding speed. The sensation is maddening. “I’m trying to save people from Maven. He’s going to turn newbloods into weapons, which will end in more death, more blood—”

“You’re doing exactly what they did.” She points her bound hands at Cal. They shake with anger. I know the feeling, and try to hide the tremors of rage in my own fingers.

“Mare.” Cal’s warning falls on deaf ears, drowned out by my thundering pulse.

Cameron spits venom. She’s enjoying this. “An age ago, when the Silvers were new. When they were few, hunted by the people who thought they were too different.”

My hands grip the edge of my seat, digging into something solid. Control. Now the jet whines in my ear, a screech to split bone.

We bounce in the air, and Gareth yelps, clutching at his leg. “Cameron, stop!” Farley shouts, her hands flying to her belts. They unsnap in rapid succession. “If you don’t shut yourself up, I will!”

But Cameron only has eyes, and anger, for me. “Look where that road led,” she growls, leaning as far as her straps will allow. Before I know it, I’m on my feet, my balance unsteady as the jet sways. I can barely hear her over the metallic shrieks bouncing around my skull. Her hands are out of her bindings, unfastening her belts with striking precision. She jumps up to stand, snarling into my face. “A hundred years from now a newblood king will sit the throne you built him on the skulls of children.”

Something tears inside me. It’s the barrier between human and animal, between sense and madness. Suddenly I’ve forgotten the jet, the altitude, and everyone else relying on my weakening control. I can think only of educating this brat, of showing exactly who and what we’re trying to save. When my fist collides with her jaw, I expect to see sparks spread over her skin, dragging her down to the floor.

There’s nothing but my bruised knuckles.

She stares, just as surprised as me. All around us, the flickering lights return to normal and the jet levels out. The whine in my head abruptly cuts off, as if a blanket of silence has fallen over my senses. It hits like a punch in the gut, dropping me to one knee.

Shade has my arm in a second, clutching with brotherly concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

In the cockpit, Cal glances between me and his control panel, his head whipping back and forth. “Stabilized,” he mutters, though I’m anything but. “Mare—”

“Not me.” A cold sweat breaks across my brow, and I fight the sudden urge to be sick. My breath comes in short pants, like the air is being pressed from my lungs. Something is smothering me. “Her.”

She takes a step back, too shocked to lie. Her mouth falls open in fear. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t, I bleeding swear it.”

“You didn’t mean to, Cameron.” That might surprise her most of all. “Just calm yourself, just—just stop—” I can’t breathe, I really can’t breathe. My grip tightens on Shade, nails digging in. Panic spikes through my nerves, alone without my lightning.

He takes my full weight on his bad shoulder, ignoring the slight twinge of pain. At least Shade is smart enough to know what I’m trying to say. “You’re silencing her, Cameron. You’re shutting her abilities down, you’re shutting her down.”

“I can’t—how?” Her dark eyes are full of terror.

My vision spots, but I see Cal blunder past. Cameron flinches away from him, as any person in their right mind would, but Cal knows what to do. He’s coached the children, and me, through similar episodes of superhuman chaos.

“Let go,” he says, firm and steady. No coddling, but no anger. “Breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let go of what you’re holding.”

Please let go. Please let go. My breath comes in gasps, each one shallower than the last.

“Let her go, Cameron.”

It’s as if a boulder has been placed on my chest, and is pressing me to death, squeezing out any semblance of myself.

“Let her go.”

“I’m trying!”

“Easy.”

“I’m trying.” Her voice is softer, more controlled. “I’m trying.”

Cal nods, his motions smooth as rolling waves. “That’s it. That’s it.”

Another gasp, but this time the air sears into my lungs. I can breathe again. My senses are dull, but returning. They increase with every strengthening beat of my heart.

“That’s it,” Cal says again, looking over his shoulder. His eyes find mine, and a thread of tension releases between us. “That’s it.”

I don’t hold his gaze long. I have to look at Cameron, at her fear. She squeezes her eyes shut and furrows her brow in concentration. A single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek, and her hands massage the tattoo at her neck. She is only fifteen. She doesn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t have to be so afraid of herself.

“I’m all right,” I force out, and her eyes snap open.

Before she slams shut the walls to her heart, relief flashes across her face. It doesn’t last long. “This doesn’t change how I feel, Barrow.”

If I could stand, I would. But my muscles still tremble with weakness. “You want to do this to someone else? To your brother when you find him?”

There it is. The bargain we must make. She knows it too.

“You get us into Corros, and we’ll make sure you know how to use your ability. We’ll make you the deadliest person in the world.”

I fear I will regret those words.