More missiles drop, but again, Cal contains their power, using it to feed his own. It’s almost beautiful, watching his long arms arc and turn, transforming destruction into protection with steady rhythm.
Farley tries to pull me away, overpowering me. With the flames defending us, I turn to see the river a hundred yards away. I can even see the hulking shadows of Kilorn and my brother, limping toward supposed safety.
“Come on, Mare,” she growls, half dragging my bruised and weakened body.
For a second, I let her pull me along. It hurts too much to think clearly. But one glance back and I understand what she’s doing, what she’s trying to make me do.
“I’m not leaving without him!” I shout for the second time today.
“I think he’s doing fine on his own,” she says, her blue eyes reflecting the fire.
Once, I thought like her. That Silvers were invincible, gods upon the earth, too powerful to destroy. But I killed three just this morning; Arven, the Rhambos strongarm, and the nymph lord Osanos. Probably more with the lightning storm. And they almost killed me, and Cal, for that matter. We had to save each other in the arena. And we must do so again.
Farley is bigger than me, taller and stronger, but I’m more agile. Even banged up and half-deaf. One flick of my ankle, one well-timed shove, and she stumbles backward, letting go. I turn in the same motion, palms outstretched, feeling for what I need. Naercey has far less electricity than Archeon or even the Stilts, but I don’t need to leach power from anything now. I make my own.
The first blast of nymph water pounds against the flames with the strength of a tidal wave. Most of it flash boils into vapor, but the rest falls on the wall, extinguishing the great tongues of fire. I answer the water with my own electricity, aiming for the waves curling and crashing in midair. Behind the wave, the Silver legion marches forward, lunging for us. At least the chained Reds have been pulled away, relegated to the back of the line. Maven’s doing. He won’t let them slow him down.
His soldiers meet my lightning instead of open air, and behind it, Cal’s fire jumps back up from the embers.
“Move back slowly,” Cal says, gesturing with an open hand. I mirror his measured steps, careful not to look away from the oncoming doom. Together we alternate back and forth, protecting our own retreat. When his flame falls, my lightning rises, and so on. Together, we have a chance.
He mutters little commands: when to step, when to raise a wall, when to let it drop. He looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him, his veins blue-black beneath pale skin, with gray circles rimming his eyes. I know I must look worse. But his pacing keeps us from giving out entirely, allowing little bits of our strengths to return just when we need.
“Just a little farther,” Farley calls, her voice echoing from behind. But she’s not running off. She’s staying with us, even though she’s just human. She’s braver than I gave her credit for.
“Farther to what?” I growl through gritted teeth, tossing up another net of electricity. Despite Cal’s commands, I’m getting slower, and a bit of rubble flies through. It breaks a few yards away, crumbling into dust. We are running out of time.
But so is Maven.
I can smell the river, and the ocean beyond. Sharp and salty, it beckons, but to what end, I have no idea. I only know that Farley and Shade believe it will save us from Maven’s jaws. When I glance behind me, I see nothing but the avenue, dead-ending at the river’s edge. Farley stands, waiting, her short hair stirring in the hot wind. Jump, she mouths, before plunging off the edge of the crumbled street.
What is it with her and leaping into an abyss?
“She wants us to jump,” I tell Cal, turning back just in time to supplant his wall.
He grunts in agreement, too focused to speak. Like my lightning, his fires grow weak and thin. We can almost see through them now, to the soldiers on the other side. Flickering flame distorts their features, turning eyes into burning coals, mouths into smiling fangs, and men into demons.
One of them steps up to the wall of fire, close enough to burn. But he doesn’t. Instead, he draws the flames apart like a curtain.
Only one person can do that.
Maven shakes embers from his silly cape, letting the silk burn away while his armor holds firm. He has the gall to smile.
And somehow, Cal has the strength to turn away. Instead of tearing Maven apart with his bare hands, he takes my wrist in his searing-hot grip. We sprint together, not bothering to defend our backs. Maven is no match for either of us, and he knows it. Instead, he screams. Despite the crown and the blood on his hands, he is still so young.
“Run, murderer! Run, lightning girl! Run fast and far!” His laughter echoes off the crumbling ruins, haunting me. “There is nowhere I won’t find you!”
I’m dimly aware of my lightning failing, giving out as I get farther away. Cal’s own flame crumbles with it, exposing us to the rest of the legion. But we’re already jumping through midair, to the river ten feet below.
We land, not with a splash but the resounding clang of metal. I have to roll to keep from shattering my ankles, but still feel a hollow, aching pain run up my bones. What? Farley waits, knee-deep in the cold river, next to a cylindrical metal tube with an open top. Without speaking she clambers into it, disappearing into whatever lies beneath us. We have no time to argue or ask questions, and follow blindly.
At least Cal has the good sense to close the tube behind us, shutting out the river and the war above. It hisses pneumatically, forming an airtight seal. But that won’t protect us for long, not against the legion.
“More tunnels?” I ask breathlessly, whirling to Farley. My vision spots with the motion and I have to slump against the wall, my legs shaking.
Like she did on the street, Farley puts one arm under my shoulder, supporting my weight. “No, this isn’t a tunnel,” she says with a puzzling smirk.
And then I feel it. Like a battery humming somewhere, but bigger. Stronger. It pulses all around us, down the strange hallway swimming with blinking buttons and low, yellow lights. I glimpse red scarves moving down the passage, hiding the faces of the Guardsmen. They look hazy, like crimson shadows. With a groan, the whole hall shudders and drops, angling downward. Into the water.
“A boat. An underwater boat,” Cal says. His voice is faraway, shaky, and weak. Just like I feel.
Neither of us makes it more than a few feet before we collapse against the sloping walls.
3
In the past few days, I’ve woken up in a jail cell and then on a train. Now it’s an underwater boat. Where will I wake up tomorrow?
I’m beginning to think this has all been a dream, or a hallucination, or worse. But can you feel tired in dreams? Because I certainly do. My exhaustion is bone-deep, in every muscle and nerve. My heart is another wound entirely, still bleeding from betrayal and failure. When I open my eyes, finding cramped, gray walls, everything I want to forget comes rushing back. It’s like Queen Elara is in my head again, forcing me to relive my worst memories. As much as I try, I can’t stop them.
My quiet maids were executed, guilty of nothing but painting my skin. Tristan, speared like a pig. Walsh. She was my brother’s age, a servant from the Stilts, my friend—one of us. And she died cruelly, by her own hand, to protect the Guard, our purpose, and me. Even more died in the tunnels of Caesar’s Square, Guardsmen killed by Cal’s soldiers, killed by our foolish plan. The memory of red blood burns, but so does the thought of silver. Lucas, a friend, a protector, a Silver with a kind heart, executed for what Julian and I made him do. Lady Blonos, decapitated because she taught me how to sit properly. Colonel Macanthos, Reynald Iral, Belicos Lerolan. Sacrificed for the cause. I almost retch when I remember Lerolan’s twin boys, four years old, killed in the explosion that followed the shooting. Maven told me it was an accident—a punctured gas line, but now I know better. His evil runs too deep for such coincidence. I doubt he minded throwing a few more bodies on the blaze, if only to convince the world the Guard was made of monsters. He’ll kill Julian too, and Sara. They’re probably dead already. I can’t think of them at all. It’s too painful. Now my thoughts turn back to Maven himself, to cold blue eyes and the moment I realized his charming smile hid a beast.