None, I tell myself. Farley will have a plan for that, just like we will come up with a way to find the newbloods—the others like me. We will do something. We must do something.
The Guardsmen against the wall mutter among themselves as I pass. Even the ones who can’t stand to look at me whisper to one another, not bothering to mask their words. I suppose they think what they’re saying is a compliment.
“The lightning girl” echoes from them, bouncing off the metal walls. It surrounds me like Elara’s wretched whispers, ghosting into my brain. Little lightning girl. It’s what she used to call me, what they called me.
No. No, it isn’t.
Despite the pain, I straighten my spine, standing as tall as I can.
I am not little anymore.
The whispers follow us all the way to the medical station, where a pair of Guardsmen keeps watch at the closed door. They’re also watching the ladder, a heavy metal thing reaching up into the ceiling. The only exit and only entrance in this slow bullet of a ship. One of the guards has dark red hair, just like Tristan, though he’s nowhere near as tall. The other is built like a boulder, with brown skin, angled eyes, a broad chest, and massive hands better suited to a strongarm. They bow their heads at the sight of me but, to my relief, don’t spare me much more than a glance. Instead, they turn their attentions to Kilorn, grinning at him like school friends.
“Back so soon, Warren?” The redhead chuckles, waggling his eyebrows in suggestion. “Lena’s gone off her shift.”
Lena? Kilorn tenses beneath my arm, but says nothing to betray his discomfort. Instead, he laughs along, grinning. But I know him better than any, enough to see the force behind his smile. To think, he’s been spending his time flirting while I’ve been unconscious and Shade lies wounded and bleeding.
“The boy’s got enough on his plate without chasing pretty nurses,” the boulder says. His deep voice echoes down the passage, probably carrying all the way to Lena’s quarters. “Farley’s still making rounds, if you’re after her,” he adds, jabbing a thumb at the door.
“And my brother?” I speak up, disentangling myself from Kilorn’s supporting grip. My knees almost buckle, but I stand firm. “Shade Barrow?”
Their smiles fade, stiffening into something more formal. It’s almost like being back in the Silver court. The boulder grips the door, spinning the massive wheel lock so he doesn’t have to look at me. “He’s recovering well, miss, er, my lady.”
My stomach drops at the title. I thought I was done with such things.
“Please call me Mare.”
“Of course,” he replies without any kind of resolve. Though we are both part of the Scarlet Guard, soldiers together in our cause, we are not the same. This man, and many others, will never call me by my given name, no matter how much I want them to.
He swings open the door with a tiny nod, revealing a wide but shallow compartment filled with bunks. Sleeping quarters at one time, but now the stacked beds are full of patients, the single aisle buzzing with men and women in white shifts. Many have clothes spattered with crimson blood, too preoccupied setting a leg or administering medication to notice me limping into their midst.
Kilorn’s hand hovers by my waist, ready to catch me should I need him again, but I lean on the bunks instead. If everyone’s going to stare at me, I might as well try to walk on my own.
Shade props up against a single thin pillow, supported mostly by the sloping metal wall. He can’t possibly be comfortable, but his eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls in the easy rhythm of sleep. Judging by his leg, suspended from the ceiling of his bunk by a hasty sling, and his bandaged shoulder, he’s surely been medicated a few times. The sight of him so broken, even though I thought him dead just yesterday, is shockingly hard to bear.
“We should let him sleep,” I murmur to no one in particular, expecting no answer.
“Yes, please do,” Shade says without opening his eyes. But his lips quirk into a familiar, mischievous smile. Despite his grim, injured figure, I have to laugh.
The trick is a familiar one. Shade would pretend to sleep through school or our parents’ whispered conversations. I have to laugh at the memory, remembering how many little secrets Shade picked up in this particular way. I may have been born a thief, but Shade was born a spy. No wonder he ended up in the Scarlet Guard.
“Eavesdropping on nurses?” My knee cracks as I sit on the side of his bunk, careful not to jostle him. “Have you learned how many bandages they’ve got squirreled away?”
But instead of laughing at the joke, Shade opens his eyes. He draws Kilorn and me closer with a beckoning hand. “The nurses know more than you think,” he says, his gaze flickering toward the far end of the compartment.
I turn to find Farley busying herself over an occupied bunk. The woman in it is out cold, probably drugged, and Farley monitors her pulse closely. In this light, her scar stands out rudely, twisting one side of her mouth into a scowl before cutting down the side of her neck and under her collar. Part of it has split open and was hastily stitched up. Now the only red she wears is the swath of blood across her white nurse’s shift and the half-washed stains reaching to her elbows. Another nurse stands at her shoulder, but his shift is clean, and he whispers hurriedly in her ear. She nods occasionally, though her face tightens in anger.
“What have you heard?” Kilorn asks, shifting so that his body blocks Shade entirely. To anyone else, it looks like we’re adjusting his bandages.
“We’re headed to another base, this time off the coast. Outside Nortan territory.”
I strain to remember Julian’s old map, but I can’t think of much more than the coastline. “An island?”
Shade nods. “Called Tuck. It must not be much, because the Silvers don’t even have an outpost there. They’ve all but forgotten it.”
Dread pools in my stomach. The prospect of isolating myself on an island with no means of escape scares me even more than the mersive. “But they know it exists. That’s enough.”
“Farley seemed confident in the base there.”
Kilorn scoffs aloud. “I remember her thinking Naercey was safe too.”
“It wasn’t her fault we lost Naercey,” I say. It’s mine.
“Maven tricked everyone, Mare,” Kilorn replies, nudging my shoulder. “He got past me, you, and Farley. We all believed in him.”
With his mother to coach him, to read our minds and mold Maven to our hopes, it’s no wonder we were all fooled. And now he is king. Now he will fool—and control—our whole world. What a world that will be, with a monster for its king, and his mother holding his leash.
But I push through such thoughts. They can wait. “Did Farley say anything else? What about the list? She still has it, doesn’t she?”
Shade watches her over my shoulder, careful to keep his voice low. “She does, but she’s more concerned with the others we’re meeting in Tuck, Mom and Dad included.” A rush of warmth spreads through me, an invigorating curl of happiness. Shade brightens at the sight of my small but genuine smile, and he takes my hand. “Gisa too, and the lumps we call brothers.”
A cord of tension releases in my chest but is soon replaced by another. I tighten my grip on him, one eyebrow raised in question. “Others? Who? How can that be?” After the massacre beneath Caesar’s Square and the evacuation of Naercey, I didn’t think anyone else existed.
But Kilorn and Shade don’t share my confusion, electing to exchange furtive glances instead. Yet again, I’m in the dark, and I don’t like it one bit. But this time, it’s my own brother and best friend keeping secrets, not an evil queen and scheming prince.