Farley murmurs in the darkness, detailing the true purpose of the Guard. Nix is a smart man, but like everyone else beneath the rule of the Burning Crown, he has been fed lies. Terrorism, anarchy, bloodlust, those are the words the broadcasts use when describing the Guard. They show the children dead in the Sun Shooting, the flooded wreckage of the Archeon Bridge, everything to convince the country of our supposed evil. All the while, the real enemy sits on his throne and smiles.
“What about her?” Nix whispers, tossing a flint-eyed glance in my direction. “Is it true she seduced the prince into killing the king?”
Nix’s question cuts like a blade, so wounding I expect to see a knife sticking out of my chest. But my own pains can wait. Ahead of me, Cal stills, his broad shoulders rising and falling, an indication of deep, steadying breaths.
I put a hand to his arm, hoping to calm him as he calms me. His skin flames beneath my fingers, almost too hot to touch.
“No, it isn’t,” I tell Nix, pushing all the steel I can into my voice. “That’s not what happened at all.”
“So the king’s head rolled off on its own, then?” He chuckles, expecting a rise of laughter. But even Kilorn has the good sense to stay quiet. He doesn’t even smile. He understands the pain of dead fathers.
“It was Maven,” Kilorn growls, surprising us all. The look in his eyes is pure fire. “Maven and his mother, the queen. She can control your mind. And—” His voice falters, not wanting to continue. The king’s death was so horrible, even for a man we hated.
“And?” Nix prods, chancing a few steps toward Cal. I stop him with one daggered glare, and thankfully, he halts a few feet away. But his face pulls into a sneer, eager to see the prince in pain. I know he has his reasons to torture Cal, but that doesn’t mean I have to let him.
“Keep walking,” I murmur, so low only Cal can hear.
Instead, he turns, his muscles taut beneath my touch. They feel like hot waves rolling on a solid sea. “Elara made me do it, Marsten.” His bronze eyes meet Nix’s, daring him to take another step. “She twisted her way into my head, controlling my body. But she let my mind stay. She let me watch as my arms took his sword, as I separated his head from his shoulders. And then she told the world it’s what I wanted all along.” And then softer, as if reminding himself, “She made me kill my father.”
Some of Nix’s malice dies away, enough to reveal the man beneath. “I saw the pictures,” he mumbles, as if in apology. “They were everywhere, on every screen in town. I thought— It looked—”
Cal’s eyes flicker, out to the trees. But he’s not looking at the leaves. His gaze is in the past, to something more painful. “She killed my true mother as well. And she’ll kill all of us if we let her.”
The words come out hard and harsh, a rusty blade to saw flesh. They taste wonderful in my mouth. “Not if I kill her first.”
For all his talents, Cal is not a violent person. He can kill you in a thousand different ways, lead an army, burn down a village, but he will not enjoy it. So his next words take me by surprise.
“When the time comes,” he says, staring at me, “we’ll flip a coin.”
His bright flame has grown dark indeed.
When we emerge from the forest, a brief shudder of fear runs through me. What if the Blackrun’s gone? What if we were tracked? What if, what if, what if. But the airjet is exactly where we left it. It’s nearly invisible in the darkness, blending into the gray-black runway. I resist the urge to sprint into its safety, and force myself to keep pace next to Cal. Not too close, though. No distractions.
“Keep your eyes open,” Cal mutters, a small but firm warning as we approach. He doesn’t take his eyes off the jet, watching for any indication of a trap.
I do the same, glaring at the back ramp still lowered against the runway, open to the night air. It looks clear to me, but shadows gather in the belly of the Blackrun, pitch-dark and impossible to see through from this distance.
It took a great amount of energy and focus to power on the entire jet, but the lightbulbs within are another story. Even from ten yards away, it’s easy to reach out to their wiring, spark up their charges, and illuminate the inside of the jet with a bright and sudden glow. Nothing moves inside, but the others react, surprised by the burst of light. Farley even frees her pistol from the holster strapped to her leg.
“It’s just me,” I tell her with a wave of my hand. “The jet’s empty.”
My pace quickens. I’m eager to be inside, cocooned by the growing charge of electricity that strengthens with my every step. When I set foot on the ramp, climbing up into the craft, it feels like entering a warm embrace. I run a hand along the wall, tracing the outline of a metal panel as I pass by. More of my power flows, bleeding out from the lightbulbs, running along electrical pathways into the massive cell batteries beneath my feet and fixed under each wing. They hum in perfect unison, sending out their own energy, switching on what I haven’t. The Blackrun comes to life.
Nix gasps behind me, in awe of the massive, metal jet. He’s probably never seen one this close, let alone stepped inside one. I turn around, expecting to find him staring at the seats or the cockpit, but his eyes are firmly fixed on me. He flushes and ducks his head in what could be a shaky bow. Before I can tell him exactly how much that annoys me, he shuffles to a seat, puzzling over the safety belts.
“Do I get a helmet?” he asks the silence. “If we’re going to be crashing through the air, I want a helmet.”
Laughing, Kilorn takes a seat next to Nix and buckles them both in with quick, agile fingers. “Nix, I think you’re the only one here who doesn’t need one.”
They chuckle together, sharing crooked smiles. If not for me, for the Scarlet Guard, Kilorn would’ve probably turned out just like Nix. A battered old man, with nothing left to give but his bones. Now I hope he gets the chance to grow old, to have aching knees and a gray beard of his own. If only Kilorn would let me protect him. If only he didn’t insist on throwing himself in front of every bullet that comes his way.
“So she really is the lightning girl. And this one’s a . . .” He gestures across the jet, to Shade, searching for a word to describe his ability.
“Jumper,” Shade offers with a respectful nod. He fastens his belts as tightly as he can, already paling at the prospect of another flight. Farley doesn’t look so affected, and resolutely stares from her seat, eyes on the windows of the cockpit.
“Jumper. Okay. What about you, boy?” He nudges Kilorn with his elbow, blind to the boy’s fading smile. “What can you do?”
I sink into the cockpit seat, not wanting to see any pain in Kilorn’s face. But I’m not quick enough. I catch a glimpse of his embarrassed flush, his rigid shoulders, his narrowing eyes and piercing scowl. The reason is shockingly clear. Jealousy twists through every inch of him, spreading as quickly as an infection. The intensity of it surprises me. Not once did I ever think Kilorn wanted to be like me, like a Silver. He’s proud of his blood, he always has been. He even raged at me, back when he first saw what I had become. Are you one of them? he growled, his voice harsh and unfamiliar. He was so angry. But then, why is he angry now?
“I catch fish,” he says, forcing a hollow smile. There’s a bitterness in his voice, and we let it fester in our silence.
Nix speaks first, clapping Kilorn on the shoulder. “Crabs,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “Been a crabber all my life.”
A bit of Kilorn’s discomfort recedes, pulling back behind a crooked grin. He turns to watch Cal switch his way across the control panel, making the Blackrun ready for another flight. I feel the jet respond in kind, its energy flowing toward the wing-mounted engines. They start to whir, gaining power with every passing second.
“Looks good,” Cal says, finally punching a hole in the uncomfortable quiet. “Where to next?”
It takes a second to realize he’s asking me. “Oh.” I stumble over the words. “The closest names are in Harbor Bay. Two in the city proper, one in the slums.”
I expect more of a fuss at the prospect of breaking into a walled, Silver city, but Cal only nods. “That won’t be easy,” he warns, his bronze eyes flashing with the panel’s blinking lights.