Farley begins to tick off the symptoms on her fingers, a maddening smile still on her face. “Nausea, vomiting, headache, seizures, cancerous diseases, and, oh yes, death. A very unpleasant death.”
Suddenly I feel very sick. “Why are you doing this? We’re here to help you.”
“Mare, stop the train, you can stop the train.” Maven drops in front of me, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Stop the train!”
To my surprise, the tin can squeals around us, coming to a very sharp and sudden stop. Maven and I tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs, hitting the hard metal deck with a painful thunk. Lights beam down at us from the open door, revealing another platform lit by torches. It’s much larger and leads far back out of sight.
Farley steps over the pair of us without so much as a glance and trots onto the platform. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Don’t move, Mare. This place will kill us!”
Something whines in my ears, almost drowning out Farley’s cold laugh. As I sit up, I can see she’s waiting patiently for both of us.
“How do you know the south, the Ruins, are still radiated?” she asks with a mad smile.
Maven trips over the words. “We have machines, detectors, they tell us—”
Farley nods. “And who built those machines?”
“Techies,” Maven croaks, “Reds.” Finally, he understands what she’s getting at. “The detectors lie.”
Grinning, Farley nods and extends a hand, helping him off the floor. He keeps his eyes on her, still wary, but allows her to lead us out onto the platform and up an iron set of stairs. Sunlight streams in from above, and fresh air swirls down to mix with the murky vapors of the underground.
Then we’re blinking in the open air, staring up at lowlying fog. Walls rise all around, supporting a ceiling that no longer exists. Only pieces of it remain, little bits of aquamarine and gold. As my eyes adjust, I can see tall shadows in the sky, their tops disappearing into the haze. The streets, wide black rivers of asphalt, are cracked and sprouting gray weeds a hundred years old. Trees and bushes grow over concrete, reclaiming little pockets and corners, but even more have been cleared away. Shattered glass crunches under my feet and clouds of dust drift in the wind, but somehow this place, the picture of neglect, doesn’t feel abandoned. I know this place from the histories, from the books and old maps.
Farley puts an arm around my shoulders, her smile wide and white.
“Welcome to the City of Ruins, to Naercey,” she says, using the old name forgotten long ago.
The ruined island contains special markers around the borders, to trick the radiation detectors the Silvers use to survey the old battlefields. This is how they protect it, the home of the Scarlet Guard. In Norta, at least. That’s what Farley said, hinting at more bases across the country. And soon, it will be the sanctuary of every Red refugee fleeing the king’s new punishments.
Every building we pass looks decrepit, coated in ash and weeds, but upon closer inspection, there’s something much more. Footprints in the dust, a light in a window, the smell of cooking wafting up from a drain. People, Reds, have a city of their own right here, hiding in plain sight. Electricity is scarce but smiles are not.
The half-collapsed building Farley leads us to must’ve been some kind of café once, judging by the rust-eaten tables and ripped-up booth seats. The windows have long since disappeared, but the floor is clean. A woman sweeps dust out the door, into neat piles on the broken sidewalk. I would be daunted by such a task, knowing that there is so much left to sweep away, but she carries on with a smile, humming to herself.
Farley nods at the cleaning woman, and she hurries away, leaving us in peace. To my delight, the booth closest to us holds a familiar face.
Kilorn, safe and whole. He even has the audacity to wink. “Long time no see.”
“There’s no time to get cute,” Farley growls, taking a seat next to him. She gestures for us to follow and we do, sliding into the squeaky booth. “I take it you saw the villages on your cruise down the river?”
My smile quickly fades, as does Kilorn’s. “Yes.”
“And the new laws? I know you’ve heard about them.” Her eyes harden, like it’s my fault I was forced to read the Measures.
“This is what happens when you threaten a beast,” Maven mutters, jumping to my defense.
“But now they know our name.”
“Now they’re hunting you,” Maven snaps, bringing a fist down on the table. It shakes the thin layer of dust, sending floating clouds into the air. “You waved a red flag in front of a bull, but didn’t do much more than poke at him.”
“They’re frightened though,” I pipe in. “They’ve learned to fear you. That has to count for something.”
“It counts for nothing if you slink back into your hidden city and let them regroup. You’re giving the king and the army time. My brother is already on your trail and it won’t be long until he tracks you down.” Maven stares at his hands, strangely angry. “Soon staying one step ahead won’t be enough. It won’t even be possible.”
Farley’s eyes glimmer in the light as she surveys us both, thinking. Kilorn is content to draw circles in dust, seemingly unmoved. I fight the urge to kick him under the table to make him pay attention.
“I couldn’t care less about my own safety, Prince,” Farley says. “It’s the people in the villages, the workers and the soldiers, who I care about. They’re the ones being punished right now, and harshly.”
My thoughts fly to my family and the Stilts, remembering the dull look in a thousand eyes as we passed. “What have you heard?”
“Nothing good.”
Kilorn’s head jerks up, though his fingers still swirl on the table. “Double work shifts, Sunday hangings, mass graves. It’s not pretty for the ones who can’t keep up the pace.” He’s remembering our village, just like I am. “Our people at the war front say it isn’t much different up there either. The fifteen-and sixteen-year-olds are being put into their own legion. They won’t survive the month.”
His fingers draw an X in the dust, angrily marking what he feels.
“I can stall that, maybe,” Maven says, brainstorming out loud. “If I convince the war council to hold them back, put them through extra training.”
“That’s not enough.” My voice is small but firm. The list seems to burn against my skin, begging to be let free. I turn to Farley. “You have people all over, don’t you?”
I don’t miss the shadow of satisfaction cross her face. “I do.”
“Then give them these names.” I pull Julian’s book from my jacket, opening to the beginning of the list. “And find them.”
Maven gently takes the book, his eyes scanning over it. “There must be hundreds,” he mutters, not looking away from the page. “What is this?”
“They’re like me. Red and Silver, and stronger than both.”
It’s my turn to feel smug. Even Maven’s jaw drops. Farley snaps her fingers and he hands it over without a thought, still staring at the little book that holds such a powerful secret.
“It won’t be long until the wrong person figures this out, though,” I add. “Farley, you must find them first.”
Kilorn glares at the names like they offer him some kind of insult. “This could take months, years.”
Maven huffs. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Exactly,” Kilorn agrees. “We need to act now.”
I shake my head. Revolutions cannot be rushed. “But if you wait, if you find as many as you can—you could have an army.”
Suddenly, Maven slaps the table, causing us all to jump. “But we do have one.”
“I have many under my command here, but not that many,” Farley argues, looking at Maven like he’s gone mad.
But he grins, alive with some hidden fire. “If I can get an army, a legion in Archeon, what could you do?”
She just shrugs. “Very little, actually. The other legions would crush them on the field.”
It hits me like a thunderbolt, and I finally realize what Maven is getting at. “But they won’t fight on the field,” I breathe. He turns to me, smiling like a crazed loon. “You’re talking about a coup.”
Farley frowns. “A coo?”
“A coup, a coup d’état. It’s a history thing, a before thing,” I explain, trying to wave off their confusion. “It’s when a small group quickly overthrows a large government. Sound familiar?”
Farley and Kilorn exchange glances, eyes narrowed. “Go on,” she says.
“You know the way Archeon’s built, with the Bridge, the West side, and the East side.” My fingers race along with my words, drawing a rough map of the city in the dust. “Now, the West side has the palace, command, the treasury, the courts, the entire government. And if somehow we can get in there, cut it off, get to the king, and make him agree to our terms—it’s all over. You said it yourself, Maven, you can run the whole country from Caesar’s Square. All we have to do is take it.”
Under the table, Maven pats me on the knee. He’s buzzing with pride. Farley’s usual suspicious look is gone, replaced by real hope. She runs a hand over her lips, mouthing words to herself as she eyes the dust-drawn plan.
“This might just be me,” Kilorn begins, falling back to his usual snide tone, “but I’m not exactly sure how you plan to get enough Reds in there to fight Silvers. You need ten of us to bring down one of them. Not to mention there’s the five thousand Silver soldiers loyal to your brother”—he glances at Maven—“all trained to kill, all trying to hunt us down as we speak.”
I deflate, falling back against the seat. “That could be difficult.” Impossible.
Maven brushes a hand over my dust map, wiping away West Archeon with a few strokes of his fingers. “Legions are loyal to their generals. And I happen to know a girl who knows a general very well.”
When his eyes meet mine, all his fire is gone, replaced now by bitter cold. He smiles tightly.
“You’re talking about Cal.” The soldier. The general. The prince. His father’s son. Again I think of Julian, of the uncle Cal would kill for his twisted version of justice. Cal would never betray his country, not for anything.
When Maven answers, it’s matter-of-fact. “We give him a hard choice.”
I can feel Kilorn’s eyes on my face, weighing my reaction, and it’s almost too much pressure to bear. “Cal will never turn his back on his crown, on your father.”
“I know my brother. If it comes down to it, to saving your life or saving his crown, we both know what he will choose,” Maven fires back.
“He would never choose me.”
My skin burns under Maven’s gaze, with the memory of one stolen kiss. It was him who saved me from Evangeline. Cal who saved me from escaping and bringing more pain upon myself. Cal who saved me from conscription. I’ve been too busy trying to save others to notice how much Cal saves me. How much he loves me.
Suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.
Maven shakes his head. “He will always choose you.”
Farley scoffs. “You want me to pin my entire operation, the entire revolution, on some teenaged love story? I can’t believe this.”
Across the table, a strange look crosses Kilorn’s face. When Farley turns to him, looking for some kind of support, she finds none.
“I can,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving my face.