Lifeblood (Everlife #2)

Every part of me understands the importance of forgiveness. My bitterness is poison—but only to me.

I force myself to let go of my anger with Elizabeth. When the feeling resurfaces, and it does, I focus on her good qualities. Her loyalty and passion. She hasn’t returned the favor; she’s holding on to her anger like it’s a new boyfriend, putting me down at every opportunity.

She’ll say, “If you’re our savior, I weep for the fate of our realm.” Or, “I wonder if the Firstking looks at you and regrets the creation of all humans.” Oh, and I loved this one, “I bet your name stands for all the ways you make those around you miserable. Numbers one through ten, existing.”

Thankfully, the rest of the realm has pardoned me. I’m greeted with smiles.

I wonder what everyone would think if they knew I’d received a message from Killian. I wonder what they’d think if they witnessed my reaction to the message.

Every time I think about it, I laugh, spread my arms and twirl. The untouchable, indomitable Killian Flynn might maybe possibly be in love with me!

In the middle of my apartment, I do my thing. Laugh. Spread arms. Twirl. I have come to believe 143 is the numerical equivalent of I love you. 1—a one-letter word. 4—a four-letter word. 3—a three-letter word.

Until I received Killian’s note, I constantly shied away from the word love. But why? My aversion seems so silly now. I mean, what’s so frightening about four little letters? L-O-V-E.

Love gives. Loves protects. Loves lifts up and never tears down. Love empowers.

I think I might 143 Killian right back. My heart softens at the mere mention of his name. He is strong, smart and witty. He is courageous. He is learning how to be kind. When he looks at me, I don’t see the pain of the past, but the brightness of the future.

I will tear the world apart to be with him.

But how can we be together?

We will have to brave the hostility of two worlds. I’ll have to be stronger physically and mentally. A soldier capable of defending those under my protection and ignoring insults.

Yesterday Elizabeth said, “What if you’re wrong about your Myriadian boy toy, huh? What if, when you compete with him, he uses your feelings for him against you? Who am I kidding? He will.”

She hopes to ignite doubt. I have to be careful. Doubt is an insidious creature. It can creep in, set up a tent and ruin everything.

Killian has more than proved his loyalty to me. He deserves my trust. He’s hiding my mother, even guarding her so that she can defect.

One day, she might walk the streets of Troika at my side, her hand in mine. Because of Killian’s efforts and love.

Maybe he’ll go a step further and work with me to end the war. Together, we can do anything! After all, not every Myriadian is a representative of darkness, and not every Troikan is a representative of Light. There are good and bad people in both realms.

The brands in my hands vibrate, and I jolt, preparing to—oh. Right. My internal clock. Ever since I learned to move in and out of a Shell, I’ve been able to produce a glowing keyboard above the center of my wrist. I can type whether I’m in or out of a Shell. I’ve learned to set an alarm.

Time to head to the Tower of Might for my next training session with Levi.

I stuff the arsenal I’ve collected into a backpack and blow my brother’s hologram a kiss. He’s reclined in a beautiful walnut crib. Four posts stretch toward the ceiling, each carved to resemble a tree trunk with curving branches up top. He kicks his legs as he giggles at me.

A feed of me plays on his walls, and he likes to watch me. I’m a source of entertainment.

My heart swells with love for him, strengthening my determination to end the war between realms. One day, he’ll be old enough to join the army. If peace reigns, he’ll never have to fight. He can enjoy the fruits of my labors.

“I’ll come see you when my session ends,” I tell him.

He farts.

Meredith visited with him a little while ago. Now his nanny sits in a rocking chair beside the crib, reading a passage from the Book of the Law. Nose wrinkling, she waves a hand in front of her face. “That was more than gas, wasn’t it, my lovely,” she says and stands. She’s a beautiful girl, with red hair and a wealth of freckles. “I bet you filled your little diaper with toxic waste.”

Ann-nn-nnd that’s my cue to go. “Bye, guys,” I say.

“Bye, Ten,” she replies. I like her. She’s been nice to me from the start. “Have an enlightened practice.”

“I will, thank you.” I’m smiling as I exit my apartment...the cathedral. Light spills from the exquisite watery sky, stroking and warming me. My insides hum with energy.

I might not be ready for my first mission, but I’m eager to help the girl infected with Penumbra. While rotting inside Prynne Asylum, I often fantasized about someone swooping in to save me. Then came Archer and Killian.

A familiar pang of guilt—I miss you so much, Archer. A electrifying thrill of anticipation—I crave you like air, Killian.

Levi hasn’t mentioned my email exchange with “the Myriadian,” and I haven’t brought it up. If I’m going to be penalized for consorting with the enemy, I’d rather wait until after my first assignment...because I have every intention of consorting again.

I take my usual route through two different Stairwells and three Gates. The first Stairwell leads me to the manna fields. I count one hundred thirty-seven people hard at work this bright and sunny morning.

My name—well my preferred name, Ten Lockwood—equals one hundred thirty-seven when the letters are changed to their numerical counterpart.

20 + 5 + 14 + 12 + 15 + 3 + 11 + 23 + 15 + 15 + 4 = 137

I pluck a purple petal from a nearby branch and nibble as I walk to the first Gate. The breakfast of champions who are on the go. I receive nods, waves and smiles.

I spot redhead Nico, adorable Rebel and the charming Clementine. The boys give me a thumbs-up.

“How’s training going?” Clementine asks.

“Slowly,” I reply. “How’s it going for you guys?”

“I’m rocking it.” Nico flexes his biceps. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for these two clowns.”

Snickering, Rebel punches him in the shoulder. “You’re only good with a musket, old man.”

Clementine crosses fisted hands over her heart. “We’re going to be Laborers under General Chanel’s command. She’s the best!”

“Unless we’re late,” Nico adds.

She looks at the comm on her wrist. “Oh, crap! Gotta run.”

“Have an enlightened day,” I call as we hurry our separate ways.