Everlife (Everlife #3)

Oh, now she calls him Mr. Flynn?

“He means everything to me,” she continues. “When my family died, he was there for me. Let me be there for him. And he will save us from Myriad. He will. You just give him a chance.”

The darker part of me—my Myriadian side?—laughs. Such a fool. She’s handed us the key to her destruction.

Us? No, oh, no. “He didn’t save us before. What makes you think he’ll succeed with a second chance?”

She opens her mouth, snaps it closed.

I’m not done. “If you know the love I have for Killian and took him away from me anyway, if you are using him to blackmail me, you are worse than I realized.” Even still, I focus on my Troikan side, where compassion holds my heart in a vise grip.

She’s hurting. There’s no need to kick her while she’s down. And really, Luciana isn’t the first person to ask me to vote for Orion. Levi did, too, right before his Second-death.

I know two facts about him. (1) He was a war hero who led his troops into battle with vigor and cunning, and (2) his return would be good for Troika. But so would Levi’s. And Meredith’s and Archer’s. But I care about Myriadians, too. I want what’s best for everyone.

“You love Orion the way I love Killian?” I say. “Even though the General is married to another woman?”

She flinches, as if I landed another punch. “I didn’t say I was proud of my feelings, only that I have them. And I’m not asking you to pick him simply because I miss him. I’m truly concerned for our home, Miss Lockwood. Mere days ago, Myriad almost destroyed us. One second we were happily working as usual, the next we were fighting for our lives. If Myriadians aren’t stopped, they’ll come at us again, and again. Our children will be hurt. Or worse! Just…think about all I have said.” She taps her wrist. A Light shines from her forearm, a keyboard that is an extension of her comm. As she types, she says, “Your choice could ensure our victory. Or our defeat. If we lose, everyone you love will perish.”

“So I’m the chosen one, after all? Or perhaps you mean Orion is the chosen one, all on his own.”

She scowls. Then, having no response, she transports away.

Zero! I’m not done with her—or Shamus! But first things first.

As I rush through the next Gate, no animals follow me. A flicker of disappointment burns my chest, but I quickly tamp it down. I make my way to the House of Secrets, where the Eye is located. The portal will allow me to see anyone in the Land of the Harvest or Troika.

I exit the Gate onto a circular sidewalk about the size of a football field. Along the outer edge of the sidewalk looms one skyscraper after another, as well as two piles of debris, courtesy of the bombings. In the center is an island, connected to the sidewalk through multiple bridges, and in the center of the island is the Eye, a massive oval of glistening mist, surrounded by a cluster of jagged, unpolished diamonds.

Throngs of people meander in every direction, some coming, some going. Four-legged animals—everything from dogs to donkeys—trail a few of those people. The smart ones who accepted Eron’s gift.

Something I’ve noticed: Whatever our Secondking does, he has a good reason, and that reason is always beneficial to us, his people. Take the Exchange, for instance. On the surface, it seems cruel. If we do something wrong, either inadvertently or on purpose, we are forced to trade places with the one we harmed; just for a moment, we experience the past through the other person’s eyes. We feel their pain, learn their thoughts.

Honestly, a whipping would be easier to endure. Physical wounds heal. The ones on our hearts scar, and last forever.

“Excuse us.”

The voice pulls me out of my head. A massive wolf with snow-white fur looms just in front of me. Eyes the color of emeralds stare at me, expectant. His teeth are long, sharp and as white as his fur. The better to eat you with, my dear.

I reel. “Um. Hi.” I’ve never had a conversation with a wolf before.

Is he my—

“My human would like to speak with you,” he says.

Oh. I look behind him, and spot a guy who is vibrating with eagerness, sadness and hope all at once. He’s covered in soot, his clothing torn. Clearly he’s been working to clean up the mess.

“Please,” he says. “My wife died this year.” He speaks Swahili, a language I’ve never learned; even still, the Grid translates every word in an instant. “I know you haven’t met her, and that most of the realm wants one of the Generals to return, but please. Please! Consider my Fahari. She was the kindest, sweetest, most loving woman ever born.”

Someone else I’ve never met pushes him out of the way, vying for my attention. “You must vote for—”

The wolf turns and growls at the newcomer. Newcomer’s eyes widen as his mouth snaps closed.

Then, tone as calm as can be, Wolf says, “Allow my human to finish his conversation, then you may speak.”

Guardian animals are amazing.

Unfortunately, the ferocity of the growl draws everyone else’s attention. Suddenly, those others issue pleas of their own. Well. Word has certainly spread. Tenley Lockwood is the one who will decide who comes back to life, courtesy of the Resurrection.

A stray thought arises: Am I Tenley Flynn now?

“I’m sorry,” I announce. I doubt anyone hears me. “I’m in a hurry.”

I push through the masses. Once I’m standing before the Eye, I search the portal for any hint of darkness inside Troika…with no luck. Zero! I whisper Killian’s name…still nothing. Foot stomp.

Maybe I’m supposed to do more than look and speak? But what?

Ugh. I can’t ask anyone for help. If a Troikan discovers a Myriadian currently lurks in our midst, mass panic could ensue.

Okay, so. Coming here was a fool’s mistake. Noted. But where can I go? My apartment was destroyed in the most recent attack, and anywhere else, I’ll be inundated with citizens just like these, desperate to influence my vote.

I’m tempted to open the door to the Rest and ask Archer, Meredith and Levi for advice. But the shadows…

Luciana’s warning rings in my head. What if the shadows now taking up prime real estate inside my head somehow use the bond I share with my friends to sneak into their sections of the Grid?

Can’t risk it. Not until I erect some sort of block.

Once again I fight my way through the crowd. A little more difficult this time around. No matter. I manage to slip through a Stairwell, then a Gate, and finally end up in a scorched—abandoned—manna field, no workers nearby. Raindrops join the flower petals, gently falling from the Veil. Before my eyes, little green buds break through the soil.

I lie upon the earth, the rain a light pitter-patter against my skin, mixing with a warm cascade…of tears? Ugh. I’m married, but I’ve never felt more alone. I’m—

Welcoming pity. A shudder rocks me. I will not feel sorry for myself. If I do, I’ll weaken. Pity will only drain my hope and leave me empty.

Now is the time to rise and shine and fight for what’s right.

I have too much to do to sulk.

First up, Killian’s liberation. End goal: freedom from war.

Loyalty, passion, liberty.

Strength. Clarity.

Light.

Yes! I close my eyes and open a door in the Grid, unleashing a flood of Light. As shadows hiss and run, I do my best to erect a mental block before concentrating on my bond to Killian—

Suddenly I’m six years old. I’m perched on my knees, my stomach empty and twisted with hunger, my skin caked in dirt. I ran away from the Learning Center weeks— months?—ago. No one wants me, fine. I can make it on my own, and I’ll prove it.

Or so I thought.

I gasp, realizing I’m in Killian’s head, reliving one of his memories.