He nods, his gaze never wavering. “It’s me.”
I move because he won’t, taking us both by surprise. My lips mold to his with ferocity, and I pull him in. His heat falls like a blanket around my shoulders. I fight to keep my sparks from doing the same. Still, the hairs on his neck rise, responding to the electric current jumping in the air. Neither of us closes our eyes. This might still be a dream.
He comes to his senses first, scooping me off my feet. A dozen faces pretend to look away in some semblance of propriety. I don’t care. Let them look. No flush of shame rises. I’ve been forced to do far worse in front of a crowd.
We’re on an airjet. The long fuselage, dull roar of engines, and clouds slipping past make it unmistakable. Not to mention the delicious purr of electricity pulsing through wires spanning every inch. I reach out, laying my palm flat against the cool, curved metal of the jet wall. It would be easy to drink the rhythmic pulse, pull it into me. Easy and stupid. As much as I want to gorge myself on the sensation, that would end very poorly.
Cal never removes his hand from the small of my back. He turns to look over his shoulder, addressing one of the dozen people harnessed in their seats.
“Healer Reese, her first,” he says.
“Sure thing.”
My grin disappears the second an unfamiliar man puts his hands on me. His fingers close around my wrist. The grip feels wrong, heavy. Like stone. Manacles. Without thought, I smack him away and jump back, as if burned. Terror mauls my insides as sparks spit from my fingers. Faces flash, clouding my vision. Maven, Samson, the Arven guards with their bruising hands and hard eyes. Overhead, the lights flicker.
The red-haired healer flinches back, yelping, as Cal smoothly angles between us.
“Mare, he’s going to treat your wounds. He’s a newblood, with us.” He braces one hand against the wall by my face, shielding me. Boxing me in. Suddenly the decent-sized jet is too small, the air stale and suffocating. The weight of manacles is gone but not forgotten. I still feel them at my wrists and ankles.
The lights flicker again. I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to focus. Control. But my heartbeat rages on, my pulse a thunder. I suck down air through gritted teeth, willing myself to calm down. You’re safe. You’re with Cal, the Guard. You’re safe.
Cal takes my face again, pleading. “Open your eyes, look at me.”
No one else makes a sound.
“Mare, no one is going to hurt you here. It’s all over. Look at me!” I hear the desperation in him. He knows as well as I do what could happen to the jet if I lose control entirely.
The jet shifts beneath my feet, angling down in a steady decline. Getting us close to the ground should the worst happen. Setting my jaw, I force my eyes open.
Look at me.
Maven said those words once. In Harbor Bay. When the sounder threatened to tear me apart. I hear him in Cal’s voice, see him in Cal’s face. No, I escaped you. I got away. But Maven is everywhere.
Cal sighs, exasperated and pained. “Cameron.”
The name rips my eyes open and I slam both fists into Cal’s chest. He stumbles back, surprised by the force. A silver flush colors his cheeks. He knits his brows in confusion.
Behind him, Cameron keeps one hand on her seat, steadily swaying with the motion of the jet. She looks strong, zipped into thick-weave tactical gear, with her fresh braids tightly wound to her head. Her deep brown eyes bore into mine.
“Not that.” Begging comes too easily. “Anything but that. Please. I can’t—I can’t feel that again.”
The smother of silence. The slow death. I spent six months beneath that weight and now, feeling myself again, I may not survive another moment with it. A gasp of freedom between two prisons is just another torture.
Cameron keeps her hands at her sides, long, dark fingers still. Waiting to strike. The months have changed her too. Her fire has not disappeared, but it has direction, focus. Purpose.
“Fine,” she replies. With deliberate motions, she crosses her arms over her chest, folding away her lethal hands. I almost collapse in relief. “It’s good to see you, Mare.”
My heartbeat still thrums, enough to make me breathless, but the lights stop flickering. I dip my head in relief. “Thank you.”
At my side, Cal looks on grimly. A muscle ripples in his cheek. What he’s thinking, I can’t say. But I can guess. I spent six months with monsters, and I haven’t forgotten what it feels like to be a monster myself.
Slowly, I sink into an empty seat, putting my palms on my knees. Then I lace my fingers together. Then sit on my hands. I don’t know which looks the least threatening. Furious with myself, I glare at the metal between my toes. Suddenly I’m very aware of my army jacket and battered dress, ripped at almost every seam, and how cold it is in here.
The healer notes my shiver and quickly drapes a blanket around my shoulders. He moves steadily, all business. When he catches my eye, he gives me a half smile.
“Happens all the time,” he mutters.
I force a chuckle, a hollow sound.
“Let’s see that side, okay?”
As I twist to show him the shallow but long gash along my ribs, Cal takes the seat next to me. He offers a smile of his own.
Sorry, he mouths to me.
Sorry, I mouth back.
Even though I have nothing to be truly sorry for. For once. I’ve come through horrendous things, done horrendous things to survive. It’s easier this way. For now.
I don’t know why I pretend to sleep. As the healer does his work, my eyes slip closed and they stay that way for hours. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long it’s almost overwhelming. The only thing I can do is lean back and breathe easy. I feel like a bomb. No sudden moves. Cal stays close to my side, his leg pressed up against mine. I hear him shift occasionally, but he doesn’t speak with the others. Neither does Cameron. Their attention is reserved for me.
Part of me wants to talk. Ask them about my family. Kilorn. Farley. What happened before, what’s happening now. Where the hell we’re even going. I can’t get past thinking the words. There’s only enough energy in me to feel relief. Cool, soothing relief. Cal is alive; Cameron is alive. I’m alive.
The others mutter among themselves, their voices low out of respect. Or they just don’t want to wake me up and risk another brush with fickle lightning.
Eavesdropping is second nature at this point. I catch a few words, enough to paint a hazy picture. Scarlet Guard, tactical success, Montfort. The last takes me a long moment of contemplation. I barely remember the newblood twins, envoys of another nation far away. Their faces blur in my memory. But I certainly remember their offer. Safe haven for newbloods, provided I accompany them. It unsettled me then and unsettles me now. If they’ve made an alliance with the Scarlet Guard—what was the price? My body tenses at the implication. Montfort wants me for something, that much is clear. And Montfort seems to have aided my rescue.
In my head, I brush against the electricity of the jet, letting it call to the electricity inside me. Something tells me this battle isn’t over yet.
The jet lands smoothly, touching down after sunset. I jump at the sensation and Cal reacts with catlike reflexes, his hand coming down on my wrist. I flinch away again with a spike of adrenaline.
“Sorry,” he sputters. “I—”
Despite my churning stomach, I force myself to calm down. I take his wrist in my hand, fingers brushing along the steel of his flamemaker bracelet.
“He kept me chained up. Silent Stone manacles, night and day,” I whisper. I tighten my grip, letting him feel a bit of what I remember. “I still can’t get them out of my head.”