“Of course not—”
“Neither of us can set foot in that village, Mare. Not unless you intend to kill every person who sees our faces. Every person.”
His eyes bore into mine, willing me to understand. Every person. Not just Security, not just soldiers, not even Silver civilians. Everyone. Any whisper of us, any rumor, and Maven will come running. With Sentinels, soldiers, legions, everyone and everything in his power. Our only defense is staying hidden, and staying ahead. We can’t do either if we leave a trail.
“Okay.” My voice sounds as small as I feel. “But Kilorn stays with us.”
Kilorn’s eyes flicker, dancing between me and Cal. “This will go a lot faster if you don’t keep nannying me, Mare.”
Nanny. I suppose that’s what I’m being, even now when he can think, fight, and provide for himself. If only he wasn’t so foolish, so dedicated to refusing my protection.
“Maven knows your name,” I tell him. “We’d be stupid to think your ID photo hasn’t been sent to every officer and outpost in the country.”
His lips twist into a scowl. “What about Farley—”
“I’m Lakelander, boy,” Farley answers for me. At least we’re on the same page.
“Boy?” Kilorn says with a scowl. “You’re barely older than me.”
“Four years older, to be precise,” Shade answers smoothly.
Farley only rolls her eyes at both of them. “Your king has no claim over my records, and he doesn’t know my true name.”
“I’m only going because everyone thinks I’m dead,” Shade pipes in, leaning on his crutch. He puts a calming hand on Kilorn’s shoulder, but he shrugs him off.
“Fine,” he grumbles under his breath. Without so much as a backward glance, he starts marching toward the grove, quick and quiet as a field mouse.
Cal glares after him, a corner of his mouth twitching in distaste. “Any chance we can lose him?”
“Don’t be cruel, Cal,” I reply sharply, heading after Kilorn. I make sure to hit the prince as I pass, bumping him with my good shoulder. Not to harm, but to communicate. Leave him alone.
He follows me closely, dropping his voice to a whisper. Warm fingers brush my arm, trying to soothe me. “I’m only joking.”
But I know that’s not true. That’s not true at all. And worst of all, I wonder if he’s right. Kilorn isn’t a soldier, or a scholar, or a scientist. He can weave a net faster than anyone I know, but what good is that when we’re catching people, not fish? I don’t know what kind of training he received in the Guard, but it’s little more than a month’s worth. He survived the Hall of the Sun because of me, and outlived the massacre of Caesar’s Square because of luck. With no ability, little training, and less sense, how can he do anything but slow us down?
I saved him from conscription, but not for this. Not for another war. Part of me wishes I could send him home, back to the Stilts, our river, and the life we knew. He would live poor, overworked, unwanted, but he would live. That future, tucked between the woods and the riverbank, is no longer possible for me. But it could be for him. I want it for him.
Is it mad to let him stay here?
But how do I let him go?
I have no answer for either question, and push away all thoughts of Kilorn. They can wait. When I look back, meaning to say good-bye to Shade and Farley, I realize they’re already gone. A shiver of fear runs down my spine as I imagine an ambush down in Coraunt. Gunfire echoes in my head, still close in my memory. No. With Shade’s ability and Farley’s experience, nothing can stop them tonight. And without me, without the lightning girl to hide, no one will have to die.
Kilorn is a shadow through the tall grass, parting green stalks with able hands. He hardly leaves a trail, not that it matters. With Cal crashing along behind me, his broad bulk trampling everything in his path, there’s no point in masking our presence. And we’ll be gone long before morning, hopefully with Nix in tow. If we’re lucky, no one will notice a missing Red, allowing us time to get ahead of Maven once he figures out what we’re doing.
What is that, exactly? The voice in my head turns strange, a combination of Julian, Kilorn, Cal, and a little bit of Gisa. It needles, poking at what I’m too afraid to admit. The list is only the first step. Tracking down newbloods—but then what do we do with them? What do I do?
Frustration makes me walk faster, until I outstrip Kilorn. I barely notice him slowing to let me pass, knowing I want to lead alone. The grove gets closer by the second, shrouded in darkness, and I wish I was alone. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since I woke up alone in the mersive. But even that was fleeting, my silence broken apart by Kilorn. I was glad to see him then, but now, now I wish I had that time to myself. Time to think, to plan, to grieve. To wrap myself around what my life has become.
“We give him a choice.” I speak aloud, knowing neither Cal nor Kilorn would stray beyond earshot. “He comes with us or he stays here.”
Cal leans against a nearby tree, his body relaxed, but his eyes stay fixed on the horizon. Nothing escapes his gaze. “Do we tell him the consequences of this choice?”
“If you want to kill him, you’ll have to go through me,” I reply. “I won’t put a newblood to death for refusing to join up. Besides, if he wants to tell an officer I was here, he’ll have to explain why. And that’s as good as a death sentence for Mr. Marsten.”
The prince’s lip curls. He fights the urge to snarl. But arguing with me will get him nowhere, not now. He’s obviously not used to taking any orders but his own. “Do we tell him about Maven? That he’ll die if he stays? That others will die if Maven tracks you down?”
I dip my head, nodding. “We tell him everything we can, and then we let him decide who and what he wants to be. As for Maven, well . . .” I search for the right thing to say, but those words are scarcer with every passing moment. “We stay ahead of him. I guess that’s all we can do.”
“Why?” Kilorn pipes in. “Why give him a choice at all? You said yourself, we need everyone we can get. If this Nix guy is half of what you are, we can’t afford to let him go.”
The answer is so simple, and it cuts me to bone.
“Because no one ever gave me a choice.”
I tell myself that I would still walk this path if I knew the consequences—save Kilorn from conscription, discover my ability, join the Guard, tear lives apart, fight, kill. Become the lightning girl. But I don’t know if that’s true. I honestly don’t know.
Maybe an hour passes in heavy, tense silence. It suits me just fine, giving me time to think, and Cal revels in the quiet. After the past few days, he’s just as hungry for rest as I am. Not even Kilorn dares to joke. Instead, he’s content to sit on a gnarled root, weaving strands of tall grass into a brittle, useless net. He smiles faintly, enjoying the old, familiar knots.
I think of Nix down in the village, probably pulled from his bed, maybe gagged, definitely ensnared in a net of my own making. Would Farley threaten his wife, his children, to make him come? Or would Shade simply grab his wrist and jump, sending them both hurtling through the sickening vise of teleportation until they land in the grove? Born 12/20/271. Nix is almost forty-nine, my father’s age. Will Nix be like him, wounded and broken? Or is he whole, waiting for us to break him?