“And what do you expect to do if you come face-to-face with Prometheus?” That was Parker, his expression still troubled.
I glanced at Wesley, who was inspecting the sleeve of his fantastical coat and plucking off bits of imaginary lint. Only he knew the real answer to that question: if there were no other options, then I would kill Prometheus.
Out loud I said only, “That’s where Oren comes into play. If you can neutralize his Eagles, according to Wesley, Prometheus’s protections are entirely magical. Oren will be armed, and the Eagles will have to contend with him and me together. Prometheus may be able to stop a Renewable like me from getting past his shields, but he won’t have anything to stop an iron knife. We can threaten him with that, force him to step down.”
Marco was breathing quickly through his nose. “He’ll have half a dozen Eagles at least around him at all times,” he said flatly. “You really think your pet savage can take on that many guards at once?”
I waited for Oren to explode, but instead he merely shifted his weight, hands in his pockets. “Would you like to try me and see?”
Marco swallowed, gaze shifting from Oren to Wesley, who shrugged as if to say, You got yourself into this, you’re on your own.
“Look,” he said finally, looking down at the table, “there’s a difference between being able to take me out and being able to take out all the Eagles plus Prometheus at once.”
“I can handle myself,” Oren said quietly.
“Then why do you need to go at all, Lark?” Parker asked, his eyes on me. “There’s still so much to learn from the journal, so much you could help us with.”
“I’m not my brother,” I said helplessly. “I don’t know machines the way he does. I’ve told you all I can. But I have to go. If they lock Oren up, he’ll need me to get him out. They won’t know I’m a Renewable, and they won’t necessarily take precautions.”
I avoided holding my breath just barely. This was the important part—they had to believe I could pass for normal the way Oren was. It didn’t matter that I had no intention of hiding that I had magic once I was inside the CeePo compound.
“They’ll figure it out quickly enough,” protested Parker. “All they’d need to do was use iron to disrupt your shields, your concentration, and—”
“Enough,” said Wesley, cutting through the rest of Parker’s words. “Lark, we’ve heard your plan, and unless you have anything you’d like to add . . . ?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. I knew he suspected that I was keeping something back. He’d spent enough time with me over the past few days to know that I didn’t always volunteer important information without being prompted. But if they knew I intended to go in blazing with my stolen magic like the worst-trained Renewable on the planet, they’d never allow it.
I shook my head.
Wesley waited half a breath longer, then nodded. “Then if you and Oren will leave us for a while, we’ll discuss this. Why don’t you go get something to eat?” he added. “Build up your reserves.”
He knew as well as I did that food no longer had any effect on my magic. When I needed power, I stole it. But no one else knew that, so I nodded, and Oren and I hurried out.
We headed for the mess hall and found it mostly empty. There were a few people there finishing off their breakfasts, and a few more cleaning tables, but we were able to secure a corner of the room for ourselves.
I picked at the peeling paint on the table we’d chosen, grimacing when it splintered and jabbed me under my fingernail.
“It’ll work,” Oren said, watching me.
I flicked the bit of paint away. “I know. But the question is, do they know that?”
“They all seem to listen to Wesley.”
That wasn’t necessarily a comfort. “I wish I knew why he’s behind this.”
Oren put his elbows on the table and hunched forward. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
I hesitated. Oren knew what I could do—he’d seen me open the lock on his cage, for one, and he was there when I’d killed the Eagle in the square. But we’d never really talked about it. He didn’t talk much about his inner demons, and he didn’t ask about mine.
“He’s the only one here who knows I’m . . . not really what the rest of them think I am.” Though the other people in the room were out of earshot, habit lowered my voice.
“So?” Oren asked bluntly. “That should make him more willing to give it a shot, not less.”
“What? Why?”
His mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile, his blue eyes holding mine. “If I was headed into the viper’s den, I’d want someone with me who could rip the life out of my enemies.”
I felt my muscles tensing, and I looked away, sick.
“Lark, it’s not—this power of yours. It’s not evil.” He reached forward and took my hand, shocking me into looking back at him. But instead of curling his fingers around mine, he turned it palm-up, toward the ceiling.
“It’s a tool. See your hand, here?” He carefully curled each of my fingers over until my hand was a fist. “It can be a weapon. But only when you want it to be. How you choose to use it is up to you.”
The tingle of magic where his hand cupped mine caused an answering tingle that ran down my spine. I swallowed, keeping my eyes on our hands.
“The magic doesn’t give you a weapon,” he said softly. “It gives you choice.” His hands curled around mine, my fist enclosed within both of his.
“Olivia’s taught you more than fighting, hasn’t she?” What was wrong with me? I couldn’t even hide the bitterness in my own voice. I just hoped he didn’t hear it.
With my eyes on our hands, I felt him react more than anything else. His muscles tensed, and then he released my hands. “She doesn’t know the whole truth, but she knows I’ve done things I regret.”
“Would she still tell you all of this if she knew you were a shadow?” I cursed myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I wish I could just tell Oren what I was afraid of. That I was like him, only worse.
But for once Oren didn’t back away, go silent, close down. He didn’t answer immediately, and when I looked up, he was watching me. Slowly, he leaned across the table and reached out toward my face. His fingers brushed my earlobe where the Molly-shadow had torn it, sending a spark through me. Magic or something else, I couldn’t tell.
“It’s healing,” he said softly.
I had to hunt for my voice. “One of the Renewable kids brought disinfectant for me.”
Oren’s eyes were on my ear, brow lightly furrowed with concentration. “You never gave me a straight answer. Did I do this to you?”
My heart ached. “No. Oren, you didn’t. I promise you.”
He smoothed some of my hair away from my face, his fingers tracing the curve of my ear as he pushed the strands back. “I’ll never know if you’re lying to me,” he murmured, speaking almost as if to himself.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away. His face seemed so sad, the long, fair eyelashes lowered, veiling his blue eyes. My palms, pressed against the tabletop, felt damp, and my words stuck in my throat. When he moved his hand toward my cheek, I couldn’t help but tip my head into his touch.
Just then the mess hall door clanged open. We both jumped, and Oren jerked back with a clatter of the bench he was sitting on. His hand dropped to the table, clenching into a fist, and when I glanced at his face, it was as closed and unreadable as ever.
It was Wesley, come to find us. If he had any comment on the scene he’d interrupted, he didn’t share it. Instead, he glanced at Oren almost dismissively before his gaze landed on me.