Glass Sword (36 page)

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.