“Don’t forget who you are,” he whispers.
I don’t need to look to know it’s an earring, a tiny bit of colored stone set in metal. Something to say farewell, to say stay safe, to say remember me if we are parted. Another tradition from my old life. I keep it tight in my fist, almost letting the sharp sting pierce my skin. Only when he sits down across from me do I look.
Red. Of course. Red as blood, red as fire. Red as the anger eating us both alive.
Unable to punch it through my ear right now, I tuck it away, careful to keep the tiny stone safe. It will join the others soon.
Farley moves with a vengeance, taking her seat near the Montfort pilots. Cameron follows closely, offering a tight smile as she sits down. She finally has an official green uniform, as does Farley, though Farley’s is different. Not green, but dark red, with a white C on her arm. Command. She shaved her head again in preparation, shedding inches of blond hair in favor of her old style. She looks severe, with her twisting facial scar and blue eyes to pierce any armor. It suits. I understand why Shade loved her.
She has a reason to stop fighting, more than any of us. But she keeps on. A bit of her determination floods into me. If she can do this, so can I.
Davidson boards our jet last, rounding out the forty of us aboard the drop. He follows a troop of gravitrons marked by downward lines of insignia. He’s still wearing the same battered uniform, and his normally smooth hair is unkempt. I doubt he slept. It makes me like him a bit more.
He nods at us as he passes, stomping the length of the jet to sit with Farley. They duck their heads together in thought almost immediately.
My electrical sense has improved since my work with the electricons. I can feel the jet down to its wiring. Every spark, every pulse. Ella, Rafe, and Tyton are coming of course, but no one dares put us all on a single dropjet. If the worst should happen, at least we won’t all die together.
Cal fidgets in his seat. Nervous energy. I do the opposite. I try to feel numb, to ignore the hungry fury begging to be set loose. I still haven’t seen Maven since my escape, and I imagine his face as it was then. Shouting for me through the crowd, trying to turn around. He didn’t want to let me go. And when I wrap my hands around his throat, I won’t let him go. I won’t be scared. Only a battle stands in my way.
“My grandmother is bringing as many with her as she can,” Cal mutters. “Davidson already knows, but I don’t think anyone filled you in.”
“Oh.”
“She has Lerolan, the other rebelling houses. Samos too.”
“Princess Evangeline,” I mutter, still laughing at the thought. Cal sneers with me.
“At least now she has her own crown, and doesn’t have to steal her way to someone else’s,” he says.
“You two would’ve been married by now. If . . .” If, meaning so many things.
He nods. “Married long enough to go absolutely crazy. She’d make a good queen, but not for me.” He takes my hand without looking. “And she would be a terrible wife.”
I don’t have the energy to follow that thread of implication, but a burst of warmth blooms in my chest.
The jet lurches, spooling into high gear. Rotors and engines whir, drowning out all conversation. With another lurch we’re airborne, rising into the hot summer night. I shut my eyes for a moment and imagine what is to come. I know Corvium from pictures and broadcasts. Black granite walls, gold and iron reinforcements. A spiraling fortress that used to be the last stop for any soldier heading into the Choke. In another life, I would have passed through. And now it’s under siege for the second time this year. Maven’s forces set out a few hours ago, landing at their controlled strip in Rocasta before heading overland. They should be at the walls soon. Before us.
Inches for miles, Davidson said.
I hope he’s right.
Cameron tosses her cards into my lap. Four queens smolder up at me, all of them teasing. “Four ladies, Barrow,” she snickers. “What next? Going to bet your bleeding boots?”
I grin and swipe the cards into my pile, discarding my useless hand of red numbers and a single black prince. “They wouldn’t fit you,” I answer. “My feet aren’t canoes.”
She cackles loudly, tossing her head back as she kicks her toes out. Indeed, her feet are very long and thin. I hope, for the sake of resources, Cameron is all done growing. “Another round,” she goads, and holds out a hand for the cards. “I bet a week of laundry.”
Across from us, Cal stops his preparatory stretching to snort. “You think Mare does laundry?”
“Do you, Your Highness?” I snap back, grinning. He just pretends not to hear me.
The easy banter is both a balm and a distraction. I don’t have to dwell on the battle facing us if I’m being robbed blind by Cameron’s card skills. She learned in the factories, of course. I barely even understand how to play this game, but it helps me stay focused in the moment.
Beneath us, the dropjet sways, bouncing on a bubble of air turbulence. After many hours in flight, it doesn’t faze me, and I continue shuffling cards. The second bump is deeper, but no cause for alarm. The third sends the cards flying out of my hands, fanning out in midair. I slam back against my seat and fumble for my harness. Cameron does the same while Cal snaps himself back, his eyes flashing to the cockpit. I follow his gaze to see both pilots working furiously to keep the jet level.
More concerning is the view. It should be sunrise by now, but the sky ahead of us is black.
“Storms,” Cal breathes, meaning both the weather and the Silvers. “We have to climb.”
The words barely leave his lips before I feel the jet tip beneath me, angling upward to higher altitudes. Lightning flashes deep within the clouds. Real lightning, born of the thunderheads and not a newblood’s ability. I feel it thumping like a faraway heart.
I tighten my grip on the straps crossing over my chest. “We can’t land in that.”
“We can’t land at all,” Cal snarls.
“Maybe I can do something, stop the lightning—”
“It won’t just be lightning down there!” Even over the roar of the climbing plane, his voice rumbles. More than a few heads turn in his direction. Davidson’s is one of them. “Windweavers and storms are going to blow us off course the second we drop through the clouds. They’ll make us crash.”
Cal’s eyes flutter up and down jet, taking stock of us. The wheels turn in his head, working on overdrive. My fear gives way to faith. “What’s your plan?”
The jet bucks again, bouncing us all in our seats. It doesn’t faze Cal.
“I need gravitrons, and I need you,” he adds, pointing at Cameron.
Her gaze turns steely. She nods. “I think I know where you’re going with this.”
“Radio the other jets. We’re going to need a teleporter in here, and I need to know where the rest of the gravitrons are. They have to distribute.”
Davidson ducks his chin in a sharp nod. “You heard him.”
My stomach swoops at the implication as the jet bursts into activity. Soldiers double-check their weapons and zip into tactical gear, their faces full of determination. Cal most of all.
He forces himself out of his seat, clutching the supports to keep steady. “Get us directly over Corvium. Where’s that teleporter?”
Arezzo blinks into existence, dropping to a knee to stop her momentum. “I do not enjoy that,” she spits.
“Unfortunately you and the other ’porters are going to be doing it a lot,” Cal replies. “Can you handle jumping between the jets?”
“Of course,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Good. Once we’re down, take Cameron to the next jet in line.”
Down.
“Cal,” I almost whimper. I can do a lot of things, but this?
Arezzo cracks her knuckles, speaking over me. “Affirmative.”