Glass Sword

29

The mess hall is crowded, but not for a meal. The Colonel put out the call for a “top-priority operation” only an hour ago, and the room bursts with his handpicked men as well as volunteers. The Lakelanders are quiet, well trained, and stoic. The Guardsmen are much rowdier, though Farley is anything but. She’s been reinstated as a captain, but shows no sign of noticing. She sits in silence, absently twisting a red scarf around her hands. When I enter the mess, flanked by my brothers, the noise dies away, and every eye watches me. Except Farley. She doesn’t look up at all. Lory and Darmian actually clap as I walk across the room, making me blush. Ada joins in, and then, to my delight, Nanny stands up next to her, as does Cameron. They made it. I exhale a little, trying to feel relieved. But there’s still no sign of Nix, Gareth, or Ketha. They could have chosen not to come. They must be sick of danger by now. That’s what I tell myself as I sit down next to Farley. Bree and Tramy follow, taking the seats directly behind me, like bodyguards.

We are not the last to arrive. Harrick slips in, having just arrived from the Notch, and shoots me a curt nod. He holds the door open, allowing Kilorn to enter. My heartbeat doubles when Cal follows, trailing at his heels, with Julian and Sara behind him. My entrance was quiet—this is the opposite. At the sight of three Silvers, many jump to their feet, mostly Lakelanders. In the din, it’s hard to hear their shouts, but the meaning is clear. We do not want you here.

Cal and I lock eyes through the commotion, if only for a second. He turns away first, finding a seat at the back of the room. Julian and Sara stick close to his side, ignoring the jeers, while Kilorn picks his way to the front. He drags a chair with him, and plops down beside me. He gives me a casual nod, as if we’re just sitting down to lunch.

“So what’s all this about?” he says, his voice loud enough to be heard over the noise.

I stare at my friend, perplexed. The last time I saw him, he was prying me off Farley, and looked disgusted with my existence. Now he’s all but smiling. He even pulls an apple from his jacket and offers me first bite. Shaky but sure, I take the gift.

“You weren’t yourself,” he whispers in my ear. He pulls the apple away again, taking a bite. “Forget about it. But go off the rails like that again and we’ll have to settle this Stilts-style. Yeah?”

My scars twinge as I smile. “Yeah.” And lower, so only he can hear me. “Thank you.”

For a second, he stills, strangely thoughtful. Then he waves a hand, smirking. “Please, I’ve seen you way worse than that.” A comforting lie, but I let him tell it anyway “Now, what’s this top-priority business? Your idea or the Colonel’s?”

As if on cue, the Colonel enters the mess, his hands stretched wide, asking for silence. “Mine,” I murmur, as the complaints fade away.

“Quiet,” he barks, his voice like a whip crack. The Lakelanders obey at once, taking their seats in practiced motion. His glare is enough to shut up the other dissenters. He points to the back of the room—to Cal, Julian, and Sara. “Those three are Silver, yes, but proven allies to the cause. They have my permission to be here. You will treat them as you would any ally, any brother or sister at arms.”

It silences them all. For now.

“You’re here because you’ve volunteered for an operation without knowing what it is. That’s true bravery, and I commend you all for it,” he continues, taking his place at the front of the hall. I get the sense he’s done this before. In this setting, the cropped hair and red eye give him an air of authority, as does his commanding voice. “As you know, the lowered conscription age has resulted in younger soldiers, down to the age of fifteen. At present, one such legion is on their way to the war front. Five thousand strong, all with only two months of training.” An angry murmur goes through the crowd. “We owe our gratitude to Mare Barrow and her team for giving us this information.”

I can’t help but flinch. My team. They belonged to Farley or even Cal, but not to me. “Miss Barrow is also the first to volunteer to stop this tragedy before it happens.”

Kilorn’s neck cracks, he turns so quickly. He widens his green eyes, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or impressed. Maybe a little bit of both.

“They’ve been nicknamed the Little Legion,” I say, forcing myself to my feet so I can address the crowd properly. They stare at me, expectant, every eye like a knife. Lady Blonos’s lessons will serve me well now. “According to our information, the children will be sent directly into the Choke, past the trench lines. The king wants them dead, to scare our people into silence, and he’ll succeed if we don’t do something. I propose a two-pronged operation, led by Colonel Farley and myself. I will infiltrate the legion outside Corvium, using soldiers who can pass for fifteen, in order to separate the Silver officers from the children. We will then proceed directly into the Choke.” I do my best to keep my eyes on the back wall, but they keep trailing back to Cal. This time, I’m the one who has to look away.

“That’s suicide!” someone shouts.

The Colonel moves to my side, shaking his head. “My own unit will be waiting in the north, on the Lakelander trench line. I have contacts within that army, and I can buy Miss Barrow enough time to get across. Once she reaches me, we’ll retreat to Lake Eris. Two grain freighters should be enough to ferry us across, and from there, we enter the disputed lands.”

“Ludicrous.”

I don’t need to look up to know Cal is standing. He’s flushed, fists clenched, annoyed at such a foolish plan. I almost smile at the sight.

“One hundred years and no Nortan army has ever crossed the Choke. Ever. You think you can do it with a bunch of kids?” He turns on me, imploring. “You’d have better luck turning them back to Corvium, hiding in the woods, anything other than crossing a damned kill zone.”

The Colonel takes this all in stride. “How long since you entered the trenches, Your Highness?”

Cal doesn’t falter. “Six months ago.”

“Six months ago, the Lakelanders had nine legions on the line, to match Nortan numbers. As of today, they have two. The Choke is open, and your brother does not realize it.”

“A trap? Or a diversion, then?” Cal sputters, puzzling out what this could mean.

The Colonel nods. “The Lakelanders plan to push across Lake Tarion, while your armies are busy defending a stretch of waste no one wants. Miss Barrow could walk across blindfolded and not get a scratch.”

“And that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Slowly, surely, I steel my heart. I hope I look brave, because I certainly don’t feel it. “Who’s coming with me?”

Kilorn is the first to stand, as I knew he would be. Many more follow—Cameron, Ada, Nanny, Darmian, even Harrick. But not Farley. She sits rooted, letting her lieutenants stand in her place. The scarf is wound too tight around her wrist, turning her hand faintly blue.

I try not to look at him. I certainly try.

At the back of the room, the exiled prince gets to his feet. He holds my gaze, as if his eyes alone could set me on fire. A waste. There is nothing in me left to burn.

The graves in Tuck’s cemetery are new, marked by freshly turned earth and a few woven bits of sea grass. Collected rocks stand in for headstones, each one painstakingly carved by loved ones. When we lower Shade’s plank coffin into the ground, all of us Barrows standing around the hole, I realize we are lucky. We have a body to bury, at the very least. But there are so many other graves marking nothing but earth. Their names are carved too. Nix, Ketha, and Gareth. Their bodies abandoned but not forgotten. According to Ada, they never got on the Blackrun or the cargo jet. They died in Corros, along with forty-two others by her impeccable count. But three hundred survived. Three hundred, traded for forty-five. A good deal, I tell myself. An easy bargain. The words sting, even in my head.

Farley clutches herself against the cold wind but refuses to wear a coat. The Colonel is here too, standing a respectful distance away. He’s here not for Shade but his grieving daughter, though he makes no move to comfort her. To my surprise, Gisa takes her side, worming one arm around the captain’s waist. When Farley lets her, the shock almost knocks me over. I didn’t know the two ever met, but they’re so familiar. Somehow, beneath my grief, I manage to feel a bit of jealousy. No one tries to comfort me, not even Kilorn. Shade’s funeral is too much for him to bear and he sits on the rise above, far away enough so that no one can see him cry. His head dips every once in a while, unable to watch when Bree and Tramy begin to shovel dirt into the grave.

We don’t say anything. It’s too hard. The whistling air goes straight through me, and I wish for warmth. I wish for comfortable heat. But Cal is not here. My brother is dead, and Cal cannot find it in his stubborn heart to watch us bury him.

Mom shovels the last bit of dirt, her eyes dry. She has no more tears left to give. We have that in common at least.

Shade Barrow, his headstone reads. The letters look clawed, written by some feral beast instead of my parents. It feels wrong to bury him here. He should be at home, by the river, in the woods he loved so well. Not here, on a barren island, surrounded by dunes and concrete, with nothing but empty sky to keep him company. This was not a fate he deserved. Jon knew this would happen. Jon let it happen. A darker thought takes hold. Perhaps this is another trade, another bargain. Perhaps this was the best fate he would ever face. My smartest, most caring sibling, who would always come to save me, who always knew what to say. How could this be his end? How is this fair?

I know better than most that nothing in this world is fair.

My vision blurs. I stare at the packed earth for who knows how long, until it’s just me and Farley left in the cemetery. When I look up, she’s staring at me, a storm raging between anger and sorrow. The wind ruffles her hair. It’s grown longer over the past few months, nearly reaching her chin. She shoves it away so violently I fear she might tear her scalp.

“I’m not going with you.” She forces out the words.

I can only nod. “You’ve done enough for us, more than enough. I understand.”

At that she scoffs. “You don’t. I couldn’t care less about protecting myself, not now.” Her eyes trail back to the grave. A single tear escapes, but she doesn’t notice. “The answer to my question,” she murmurs, not thinking about me anymore. Then she shakes her head and steps closer. “It wasn’t much of a question anyway. I knew, deep down. I think Shade did too. He is—was—very perceptive. Not like you.”

“I’m sorry for everyone you’ve lost,” I say, blunter than I wish to be. “I’m sorry—”

She only waves a hand, dismissing the apology. She doesn’t even care to ask how I know. “Shade, my mother, my sister. And my father. He might be alive, but I lost him too.”

I remember the worry on the Colonel’s face, the brief glint of concern when we returned to Tuck. He was afraid for his daughter. “I wouldn’t be so sure. No real father could ever be truly lost to the child he loves.”

The wind blows a curtain of hair across her face, almost hiding the look of shock flashing in her eyes. Shock—and hope. One hand splays across her stomach, strangely gentle. The other pats my shoulder. “I hope you make it out of this alive, lightning girl. You’re not entirely awful.”

It might be the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.

Then she turns, never to look back. When I leave a few minutes later, neither do I.

There’s no time to mourn Shade or the others properly. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I must board the Blackrun, forget my heart, and prepare to fight. It was Cal’s idea to wait until evening, to leave the island while our hijacked broadcast crosses the nation. By the time Maven’s dogs come hunting for us, we’ll already be in the air and on our way to the hidden airfield outside Corvium. The Colonel will continue north, using the cover of night to cross the lakes and circle around. By morning, if the plan holds, we’ll both be in charge of our own legions, one on each side of the border. And then we march.

The last time I left my parents, there was no warning. Somehow, that was easier than this. Saying good-bye to them is so hard I almost run to the Blackrun and its familiar safety. But I force myself to hug them both, to give them whatever small comfort I can, even if it might be a lie.

“I’ll keep them safe,” I whisper, tucking my head against Mom’s shoulder. Her fingers run through my hair, braiding it quickly. The gray ends have spread, almost reaching to my shoulders. “Bree and Tramy.”

“And you,” she whispers back. “Protect yourself too, Mare. Please.”

I nod against her, not wanting to move.

Dad’s hand finds my wrist, giving it a gentle tug. Despite his outburst earlier, he’s the one to remind me I must go. His eyes linger over my shoulder, at the Blackrun behind us. The others have already boarded, leaving only the Barrows on the runway. I suppose they want to give me some semblance of privacy, though I have no use for such a thing. I’ve spent the last few months living in a hole, and before that, a palace crawling with cameras and guards. I don’t care about spectators.

“For you,” Gisa blurts, holding out her good hand. She dangles a scrap of black silk. It feels cool and slick in my hand, like woven oil. “From before.”

Red and gold flowers decorate the fabric, embroidered with the skill of a master. “I remember,” I murmur, running a finger over the impossible perfection. She sewed this so long ago, the night before an officer broke her hand. It is unfinished, just like her old fate. Just like Shade. Shaking, I tie it around my wrist. “Thank you, Gisa.”

I reach into my pocket. “And I have something for you, my girl.”

A trinket, cheaply made. The single earring matches the winter ocean around us.

Her breath catches as she takes it. Tears quickly follow, but I can’t watch them. I turn away from them all and board the Blackrun. The ramp closes behind me, and by the time my heart stops racing, we’re in the sky, soaring high above the sea.

My soldiers are few compared to the many following the Colonel into the Lakelands. After all, I could only take people who looked young enough to play the part of the Little Legion, and preferably those who had served, who knew how to act like soldiers. Eighteen Guardsmen fit the bill, and have joined us in the sky. Kilorn sits with them, doing his best to acclimatize them to our close-knit group. Ada isn’t with us, and neither are Darmian and Harrick. Unable to pass for teenagers, they went with the Colonel, to aid our cause however they can. Nanny is not so restricted, despite her advanced age. Her appearance flickers, fluttering between different iterations of young faces. Of course Cameron has joined us—this was truly her idea in the first place, and she all but bounces with adrenaline. She’s thinking of her brother, the one she lost to the legion. I find myself envying her. She still has a chance to save him.

Cal and my brothers will be the hardest to disguise. Bree has a young face, but he’s larger than any fifteen-year-old should be. Tramy is too tall, Cal too recognizable. But their value lies in not their appearance or even their strength but their knowledge of the trench lines. Without them, we’ll have no one to navigate such a maze, and enter the nightmare wasteland of the Choke. I’ve only seen the Choke in photographs, news bulletins, and my dreams. After my ability was discovered, I thought I’d never have to go there. I thought I escaped that fate. How wrong I am.

“Three hours to Corvium,” Cal barks, not looking up from his instruments. The seat next to him is conspicuously empty, reserved for me. But I won’t join him, not after he abandoned me to face Shade’s funeral alone.

“Rise, Red as the dawn.” The Guardsmen speak in unison, banging the butts of their guns on the floor. It takes us all by surprise, though Cal does his best not to react. Still, I see distaste pull at the corner of his mouth. I’m not part of your revolution, he said once. Well, you sure look like it, Your Highness.

“Rise, Red as the dawn,” I say, quiet but sure.

Cal scowls openly, glaring out the window. The expression makes him look like his father, and I think of who he could have been. A thoughtful warrior prince, married to the viper Evangeline. Maven said he would not have lived past the coronation night, but I don’t truly believe that. Metal is forged in flame, not the other way around. He would have lived, and ruled. To do what though, I cannot say. Once, I thought I knew Cal’s heart, but now I realize that is impossible. No heart can ever be truly understood. Not even your own.

Time passes in suffocating silence. Within the jet, we are still, but on the ground, things are in motion. My message blares on video screens all over the kingdom.

I wish I were in Archeon, standing in the middle of the commercial sector, watching the world as it changes. Will the Silvers react as I hope? Will they see Maven’s betrayal for what it is? Or will they look away?

“Fires in Corvium.”

Cal leans against the cockpit glass, his mouth agape. “In the city center, and the River Town slums.” He runs a hand through his hair, at a loss. “Rioting.”

My heart leaps, then plunges. War has begun. And we have no idea what the cost may be.

The rest of the jet erupts in cheers, clapping, and too many handshakes to stomach. I almost stumble out of my seat, my feet tripping over themselves. I never trip. Never. But I barely make it to the back of the plane in one piece. I feel dizzy and sick, ready to lose the dinner I never ate all over the wall. One hand finds the metal, letting the coolness calm me. It works a little, but my head still spins. You wanted this. You waited for this. You made this happen. This is the bargain. This is the trade.

The control I’ve worked so hard to maintain starts to splinter. I feel every pulse of the jet, every turn of the engines. It veins in my head, a map of white and purple, too bright to stand.

“Mare?” Kilorn stands from his seat. He takes a step toward me, one hand outstretched. He looks like Shade did in his last moments.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

It’s like ringing a bell. Cal turns in his seat, finding me in an instant. He crosses the jet with strong, deliberate steps, boots slamming on the metal floor. The others let him pass, too afraid to stop the prince of fire. I share no such fear, and turn my back to him. He spins me around, not bothering to be gentle.

“Calm down,” he snaps. He has no time for temper tantrums. I’m seized by the urge to shove him away, but I understand what he’s trying to do. I nod, trying to agree, trying to do as he says. It stills him a little. “Mare, calm down,” he says again, this time just for me, soft as I remember. But for the pulse of the jet, we could be back at the Notch, in our room, in our cot, wrapped up in our dreams. “Mare.”

The alarm sounds seconds before the tail of the plane explodes.

The force knocks me on my back, so hard I see stars. I taste blood, and I feel blazing heat. If not for Cal, the fire would incinerate me. Instead, it licks at his arms and back, harmless as a mother’s touch. It recedes as quickly as it grows, pushed back by Cal’s power, containing itself to embers. But even he can’t rebuild the back of a jet—or keep us from falling out of the sky. The noise threatens to split my head, roaring like a train, screaming with the voice of a thousand banshee shrieks. I hold on to whatever I can, metal or flesh.

When my vision clears, I see black sky and bronze eyes. We hold on to each other, two children trapped in a falling star. All around us, the Blackrun peels apart, piece by piece, each tear another bloodcurdling screech. With every passing second, more of the jet disappears, until only thin bars of metal remain. It’s freezing cold, hard to breath, and impossible to move anything of my own volition. I cling to the bar beneath me, holding on with all I have left. Through slitted eyes, I watch the dark ground below, getting closer with every terrifying second. A shadow darts past. It has an electric heart and gleaming wings. Snapdragon.

My stomach plummets with the remnants of the Blackrun. I can’t even summon the strength to scream. But the others certainly do. I hear them all, shouting, pleading, begging for mercy from gravity’s pull. The structure shudders all around, accompanied by a familiar clang. Metal, slamming together. Re-forming. With a gasp, I realize what’s happening to us.

The jet is no longer a jet. It is a cage, a steel trap.

A tomb.

If I could speak, I would tell Cal that I’m sorry, that I love him, that I need him. But the wind and the drop steal my breath away. I have no more words. His touch is achingly familiar, one hand at my neck, imploring me to look at him. Like me, he can’t speak. But I hear his apology all the same, and he understands mine. We see nothing but each other. Not the lights of Corvium on the horizon, the ground rising up to meet us, or the fate we’re about to find. There is nothing but his eyes. Even in darkness, they glow.

The wind is too strong, tearing at my hair and skin. My mother’s braid comes undone, the last vestige of her pulled away. I wonder who will tell her how I died, if anyone will even know the end we met. What a death for Maven to dream up. This must be his idea—to kill us together, and give us time to realize what is coming.

When the cage stops short, I scream.

There is stiff grass beneath my dangling arms, just kissing the tips of my fingers. How? I wonder, pulling away. It’s hard to find balance, and I fall. The cage rocks with my motion, like a swing hanging from a tree.

“Don’t move,” Cal growls, putting a hand to the back of my neck. The other clutches a steel bar, and it glows red in his fist.

I follow his gaze, looking across the forest clearing to the people standing in a wide circle around us. Their silver hair is hard to mistake. Magnetrons of House Samos. They stretch out their arms, moving in unison, and the cage lowers slowly. It drops the last inch, earning yelps from us all.

“Loose.”

The voice feels like a lightning bolt. I throw off Cal’s grip and vault to my feet, sprinting to the edge of the cage. Before I can hit the side, the bars drop, and my momentum carries me too far. I stumble, hitting the half-frozen grass, skidding on my knees. Someone kicks me in the face, sending me sprawling in the mud. I shoot a jagged spark in their direction, but my attacker is too fast. A tree splinters instead, toppling over with a splitting crack.

The strongarm’s knee hits my back, pinning me so forcefully he knocks the air from my lungs. Strange-feeling fingers, coated in plastic, maybe gloves, close around my throat. I claw at his grip, sparking, but it doesn’t seem to work. He lifts me without any effort at all, forcing me to scramble on my toes to keep from strangling myself. I try to scream, but it’s useless. Panic knifes through me and my eyes widen, searching for a way out of this. Instead, I see only my friends, still confined by the cage, pulling at the bars in vain.

The metal shrieks again, twisting and curling, each bar becoming its own prison. Through one bruised eye, I watch metallic snakes lock around Cal, Kilorn, and the others, binding their wrists, and ankles, and necks. Even Bree, big as a bear, has no defense against the coiling rods. Cameron fights as best she can, silencing one magnetron after another. But there are too many. When one falls, another takes their place. Only Cal can truly resist, burning through every bar that comes close. But he’s just fallen out of the sky. He’s disoriented at best, and bleeding from a cut above the eye. One bar cracks him across the back of the head, knocking him out cold. His eyelids flutter, and I will him to wake. Instead, the silver vines wrap around him, tightening with every passing second. The one at his throat is worst of all, digging in deep, enough to strangle.

“Stop!” I choke out, turning toward the voice. Now I fight with my own meager muscles, trying to break the strongarm’s grip the old-fashioned way. Nothing could be more fruitless. “Stop!”

“You are in no position to bargain, Mare.”

Maven is coy, keeping to the darkness, to his shadows. I watch his silhouette approach, noting the spiky crown on his head. When he steps into the starlight, I feel a brief twinge of satisfaction. His face does not match his confident drawl. There are bruise-like circles beneath his eyes, and a sheen of sweat coats his forehead. His mother’s death has taken its toll.

The hands around my throat loosen a little, allowing me to speak. But I still dangle, my toes slipping in cold grass and icy mud.

No bargain, no trade. “He’s your brother,” I say, not bothering to think. Maven doesn’t care about that at all.

“And?” He raises one dark eyebrow.

On the ground, Kilorn squirms against his restraints. They tighten in response, and he gasps, wheezing. Next to him, Cal’s eyelids flutter. He’s coming around—and then Maven will certainly kill him. I have no time, no time at all. I would give anything to keep these two alive, anything.

With one last explosion of rage, fear, and desperation, I let myself loose. I killed Elara Merandus. I should be able to kill her son and his soldiers. But the strongarm is ready for me, and squeezes. His gloves hold, protecting his skin from my lightning, doing exactly what they were made for. I gasp against his grip, trying to call to the sky above. But my vision spots, and a sluggish pulse sounds in my ears. He will choke me dead before the clouds can gather. And the others will die with me.

I will do anything to keep him alive. To keep him with me. To not be alone.

My lightning has never looked so weak or forlorn. The sparks fade slowly, like the beat of a dying heart. “I have something to trade,” I whisper hoarsely.

“Oh?” Maven takes another step. His presence makes my skin crawl. “Do tell.”

Again, my collar loosens. But the strongarm digs a thumb against the vein in my throat, an open threat.

“I’ll fight you to the last,” I say. “We all will, and we’ll die doing it. We might even take you with us, just like your mother.”

Maven’s eyelids flicker, the only indication of his pain. “You will be punished for that, mark my words.”

The thumb responds in kind, pressing further, probably leaving a spectacular bruise. But this is not the punishment Maven speaks of, not by a long shot. What he has in store for us will be much, much worse.

The bars around Cal’s wrists redden, glowing with heat. His slitted eyes reflect the starlight, watching me with bated breath. I wish I could tell him to lie still, to let me do what I have to do. To let me save him as he saved me so many times.

At his side, Kilorn stills. He knows me better than anyone, and understands my expression plainly. Slowly, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head from side to side.

“Let them go, let them live,” I whisper. The strongarm’s hands feel like chains, and I picture them crawling over every inch, winding like iron serpents.

“Mare, I don’t know if you understand the definition of the word trade,” Maven sneers, pressing further. “You must give me something.”

I won’t go back to him for anyone. I told Cal that once, after I survived the sounder device, and he realized what this was all about.

Surrender, Maven’s note said, begging me to return.

“We won’t fight. I won’t fight.” When the strongarm drops me, my walls disintegrate. I lower my head, unable to look up. It feels like bowing. This is my bargain. “Let the rest go—and I will be your prisoner. I will surrender. I will return.”

I focus on my hands in the grass. The coldness of the frost is familiar. It calls to my heart, and the hole that grows there. Maven’s hand is warm beneath my chin, burning with a sickly heat. Daring to touch me is a stark message. He does not fear the lightning girl, or at least he wants to seem that way. He forces me to look at him, and I see nothing of the boy he once was. There is only darkness.

“Mare, no! Don’t be an idiot!” I barely hear Kilorn, pleading now. The whining in my head is so loud, so painful. Not the hiss of electricity, but something else, inside me. My own nerves, screaming in protest. But at the same time, I feel a sick and twisted relief. So many sacrifices have been made for me, for my choices. It’s only fair that I take my turn, and accept the punishment fate has in store.

Maven reads me well, searching for a lie that doesn’t exist. And I do the same. Despite his posturing, he is afraid of what I’ve done, of the lightning girl’s words and the affect they have. He came here to kill me, to put me in the ground. Now he’s found a greater prize. And I’ve given it to him willingly. He is a betrayer by nature, but this is a bargain he wants to uphold. I see it in his eyes; I heard it in his notes. He wants me, and will do anything to hold my leash again.

Kilorn squirms against his restraints, but it’s no use at all. “Cal, do something!” he shouts, lashing out at the body next to him. Their bonds clang together in a hollow echo. “Don’t let her!”

I can’t look at him. I want him to remember me differently. On my feet, in control. Not like this.

“Do we have a deal?” I am reduced to a beggar, pleading with Maven to put me back in his gilded cage. “Are you a man of your word?”

Above me, Maven smiles as I quote him. His teeth gleam.

The others are shouting now, shaking in their bonds. I hear none of it. My mind has closed to all but the trade I am ready to make. I suppose Jon saw this coming.

Maven’s hand moves from my chin to my throat. His grip tightens. Softer than the strongarm, but so much more painful.

“We have a deal.”