“And that’s fine,” he presses on before I can stop him. “You never saw me the way I see you, not even at home, before all this happened. I thought you might one day, but—” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just not in you to love me.”
When I was Mare Barrow of the Stilts, I thought the same way. I wondered what would happen if I survived conscription, and saw what that future held. A friendly marriage to the fish boy with green eyes, children we could love, a poor stilt home. It seemed like a dream back then, an impossibility. And it still is. It always will be. I do not love Kilorn, not the way he wants me to. I never will.
“Kilorn,” I murmur, taking a step toward him. But he takes two back. “Kilorn, you’re my best friend, you’re like family.”
His smile bleeds sadness. “And I will be, until the day I die.”
I do not deserve you, Kilorn Warren. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, not knowing what else I can say. I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.
“It’s not something you can control, Mare,” he replies, still standing so far away. “We can’t choose who we love. I wish, more than anything, that we could.”
I feel cracked open. My skin still runs hot from Cal’s embrace, remembering the feel of him only moments ago. But in the deepest part of me, in spite of every fiber of my being, I think beyond the clearing, to ice-colored eyes, an empty promise, and a kiss aboard a boat.
“You can love him all you want, I won’t stop you. But for my sake, for your parents, for the rest of us, please don’t let him control you.”
Again, I think of Maven. But Maven is far away, a shadow on the sharp edges of the world. He might be trying to kill me, but he can’t control me, not anymore. Kilorn can only mean the other royal brother, the fallen son of House Calore. Cal. My shield against the scars and the nightmares. But he’s a warrior, not a politician or a criminal. He doesn’t have the ability to manipulate anyone, least of all me. It’s just not in his nature.
“He’s Silver, Mare. You don’t know what he’s capable of, or what he really wants.”
I doubt Cal does either. The exiled prince is even more adrift than I am, without any allegiance or allies beyond a temperamental lightning girl. “He’s not what you think he is,” I say. “No matter what color his blood may be.”
A sneer razors across his face, thin and sharp. “You don’t really believe that.”
“I don’t believe,” I say sadly. “I know. And it makes everything harder.”
Once, I thought blood was the world entire, the difference between dark and light, an irrevocable, impassable divide. It made the Silvers powerful and cold and brutal, inhuman compared to my Red brethren. They were nothing like us, unable to feel pain or remorse or kindness. But people like Cal, Julian, and even Lucas have shown me how wrong I was. They are just as human, just as full of fear and hope. They are not without their sins, but neither are we. Neither am I.
If only they were the monsters Kilorn believes them to be. If only things were that simple. Quietly, in the deepest part of my heart, I envy Kilorn’s narrow anger. I wish I could share in his ignorance. But I’ve seen and suffered too much for that.
“We’re going to kill Maven. And his mother,” I add with chilling assurance. Kill the ghost, kill the shadow. “If they die, the newbloods will be safe.”
“And Cal will be free to reclaim his throne. To make everything as it was.”
“That won’t happen. No one would let him back on the throne, Red or Silver. And from what I can tell, he doesn’t want it.”
“Really?” I immediately hate the smirk twisting Kilorn’s lips. “Whose idea was it? To kill Maven?” When I don’t answer, the smirk grows. “That’s what I thought.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Kilorn.”
My gratitude takes him aback, surprising him as much as he surprised me. We have both changed in the past few months, no longer the girl and boy from the Stilts ready to tussle over any topic—and every topic. They were children, and they are gone forever.
“I’ll keep what you said in mind, of course.” My Lessons have never felt so close, helping me know how to dismiss Kilorn without hurting him. As a princess would a servant.
But Kilorn is not so easily cast aside. His eyes narrow into dark green slits, seeing right through my mask of courtesy. He looks so disgusted I expect him to spit. “One day soon you’re going to get lost,” he breathes. “And I won’t be there to lead you back.”
I turn my back on my oldest friend. His words sting, and I don’t want to hear them, no matter how much sense he makes. His boots crunch over the hard earth as he stalks off, leaving me to stand and stare at the woods. In the distance, an airjet hums, returning to us.
I fear being alone more than anything else. So why do I do this? Why do I push away the people I love? What is so very wrong with me?
I don’t know.
And I don’t know how to make it stop.
Gathering an army is the easy part. The records from Harbor Bay lead us to newbloods in towns and villages across the Beacon region, from Cancorda to Taurus to the half-flooded ports of the Bahrn Islands. Because of Julian’s list, we expand out, until every part of Norta is within our grasp. Even Delphie, the southernmost city in the kingdom, is just a few hours away by jet.
Every population center, no matter how small, has a new garrison of Silver officers meant to catch us and turn us over to the king. But they can’t guard every target at all times, and Maven is not yet strong enough in his reign to kidnap hundreds overnight. We strike randomly, without pattern, and we usually catch them off balance. Sometimes we get lucky, and they don’t even know we’re there at all. Shade proves his use time and again, as do Ada and Nix. Her abilities help us find our way around city walls—his help us go right through them.
But it always comes down to me. I am always the one to confront each newblood, to explain what they are and what kind of danger they pose to the king. Then they are given a choice, and they always choose to live. They always choose us. We give safe passage to their families, directing the ones left behind to the various sanctuaries and bases operated by the Scarlet Guard. To Command, as Farley says, her words more cryptic every time. A few are even sent to Tuck Island, to seek the safety of the Colonel. He might hate newbloods, but Farley assures me he won’t turn away true Reds.
The newbloods we find are afraid, some angry, but a few are surprised, usually the children. For the most part, they don’t know what they are. But some do, and they are already haunted by the mutations of our blood.
On the outskirts of the city of Haven, we meet Luther Carver. A young boy of eight with wispy black hair, small for his age, the son of a carpenter. We find him in his father’s workshop, excused from school to learn the trade. It takes very little convincing to get Mr. Carver to let us in, though he eyes Cal and even Nix with suspicion. And the boy refuses to look me in the eye, his tiny fingers twitching with nerves. He trembles when I speak to him, and insists on calling me lightning girl.
“Your name is on this list because you are special, because you are different,” I tell him. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”
The boy shakes his head violently, his long bangs swiping to and fro. But his aptly named father stands like a guardian at his back. Solemnly, slowly, he nods his head.
“It’s all right, Luther, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I reach across the table, past intricate designs that are certainly Carver’s handiwork. But Luther’s fingers ghost away from my touch and he pulls his hands into his lap, squirming out of my reach.