My heart flinches, squeezing tight and twisting. “I had no idea.”
“Me neither, until—well, might as well call a spade a spade. Until I kidnapped her from the military base.”
“Someday you’re going to have to tell me the whole story of what exactly happened between that and…well, this.” I nod my head in their direction, something in my head still objecting on an instinctive level to the sight of my friend Flynn, leader of the Fianna, with his arms around a trodaire. If Gideon and Tarver fail—if the whisper ends up with the power to cut us off from hyperspace completely—we’ll be trapped together here on Corinth. Being an Avonite won’t mean anything anymore.
Flynn huffs another laugh, dropping his voice again when Jubilee stirs. “Got a few days?” He sobers, watching me. “Thank you, by the way. For what you did on the shuttle back on Avon, when Jubilee and I were on the run—thank you for distracting the soldiers so she and I could get away. I know you had no reason to trust her.”
“I trusted you,” I reply instantly—then halt, thoughts grinding together. Because I did trust him, completely. How could it have happened that in a single year I forgot how to do that? Why should I trust Gideon any less than Flynn?
Because he lied to you.
Well, I lied to him. What else you got?
“Are you okay?”
I open my eyes to find Flynn watching me, concern all over his expressive features. I start to reply, halting with my lips parted, voice sticking in my throat. “I’m tough, too,” I say finally.
One corner of Flynn’s mouth lifts. “That’s not what I asked.”
I shut my eyes, wishing I could shut my ears as well. Despite my conversation with Tarver, every part of me is screaming that this is still somehow my fault. It was one thing to be at peace with the idea of becoming a murderer, of killing an evil man responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. It’s another to be at peace with causing the end of the world.
“He’ll be okay.” His voice is quiet.
“Is that even what I’m supposed to hope for?” I whisper. With my eyes closed, I can hear sounds still echoing in from outside, though the crowd has thinned out to almost nothing.
“Of course it is,” Flynn replies. “Look, I haven’t seen Merendsen in action, but I’ve seen Jubilee. She swears he taught her what she knows, and is even better than she is. And while I find that difficult to believe, it does suggest that he knows what he’s doing. Gideon’s as safe with him as he’d be here.”
I shake my head, as much to dismiss the concern as to try to shrug off the burning in my eyes. “Gideon made his choice.”
“As you made yours, up on the Daedalus.” I open my eyes to find Flynn gazing down at Jubilee as she sleeps. “Funny thing, how we let our choices define us.”
As much as I love Flynn, a philosophical discussion is the last thing I want right now. I grind the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to clear them and marshal my thoughts, and remain silent.
He doesn’t seem to notice. “Back on Avon, it seemed like every choice I made turned me into more and more of a traitor. Sometimes I thought I was doing what was best for the Fianna—sometimes it felt like I was lying to myself, and it was all for her.”
“And now?” I eye him sidelong, watching his profile as his head dips.
“I was trusting my heart.” Flynn meets that sidelong look for a moment, then exhales in a sigh. “Doesn’t mean your heart can’t be conflicted. But at least for me, and for Jubilee, and for Avon—it turned out I was right to trust it.”
I echo that sigh of his, mine sounding more like a huff of laughter. “Follow your heart? Seriously? That’s your advice? I’m pretty sure I read that in a fortune cookie once.”
Flynn grins at me. “Where do you think I got it?” But then his grin softens and he gives his head a little shake. “It’s simple advice. But probably the hardest to follow. It’s always easier to do the expected thing than the right thing.”
“If you’re trying to thank me for attempting an assassination, you’re doing it in a roundabout way.”
“You think shooting at LaRoux was the right thing?” Flynn raises an eyebrow. “The thing your heart was telling you to do?”
I want Gideon to know that the only reason I didn’t tell him about my plan was because I knew he would try to talk me out of it. And I knew he’d succeed.
My jaw tightens. It doesn’t matter. Gideon’s gone. I let my gaze skitter away from Flynn’s, seeking out something, anything, that isn’t his look of empathy, of concern, of caring. The floor is strewn with garbage and broken bits of glass, and cards with the restaurant logo printed on them. My heart gives a sudden lurch as I reach out to pick one up—MRS. PHAN’S, it reads, next to the scan code to pull up the menu.
We’ve holed up in the restaurant where Gideon went to grab us dinner the night we spent in the arcade. The night before I found out he was the Knave. The night we—My breath chokes itself in my throat, sparking tears in my eyes as I try to keep from coughing.
“Sof?” Flynn’s voice is alarmed. Jubilee stirs, mumbling something that sounds like a question—half-asleep, she reaches for her hip, where her gun is.
“No—I’m fine.” I shove the card into my pocket.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you, Sof.” He fixes me with a searching look for a moment, and then Jubilee shifts in his lap, and he’s distracted.
“I’m fine. I…I’d really like to get some air, if that’s okay. It sounds quiet out there.”
Flynn rubs his hand up and down Jubilee’s arm, and she settles back again. “Are you sure? It’s not exactly safe out there.”
“Come on. It’s me.” I flash him my old smile, still easy to locate, despite everything. “I can take care of myself.”
Flynn’s still hesitant, craning his head back as though he’d be able to see whether the streets are clear.
“If the world’s ending tomorrow,” I add, voice dry, “I’d like to get to stretch my legs one last time.”
“Give her your gun,” mumbles Jubilee, without opening her eyes. “’S quiet out there now.”
Flynn’s mouth twitches, and he looks back up at me as he reaches for the pistol he set aside. “You heard her.”
I make sure the gun’s safety is on before I tuck it into the back of my pants, set the whisper shield down quietly so Flynn won’t notice, and argue, and get unsteadily to my feet. There are so many people down here that there’s no reason for the whisper to pick me out of the teeming crowds of refugees, and I desperately need a moment alone to breathe. Grabbing one of the flashlights, I slip toward the back exit and glance over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of Jubilee sitting up sleepily and laying her hand against Flynn’s cheek. He’s leaning toward her, but the door closes between us before his lips touch hers.
I shiver, though it’s not just from the chill. It is colder, though—all the machinery and cars and people and vendors and life that heat up the undercity are silent now, and without the sun above, the temperature is falling in a way it never could normally. If this is the place Gideon went to get us food, then it’s not far from the arcade. And without making any conscious decision, I find that’s where my steps are leading me.
It takes me a few minutes to get my bearings, searching my memory banks for the landmarks I saw at the mouth of the alley. Without the lanterns overhead, and only my flashlight to guide my steps, it all looks different. But eventually I find the faux-brick façade I remember, and find the loose one Gideon used to open the crack in the wall to slip through.
The space beyond is dark, but the sound of my footsteps changes, echoes speaking of the vastness of the hidden arcade behind the wall. In my memory, I hear the sound of a switch flipping, see the neon lights snapping into existence once by one, their milky reflections sweeping across the dusty marble floor. I can hear the Butterfly Waltz, and taste Gideon’s kiss.