Glass Sword

by Victoria Aveyard

  A few even seem afraid.

  Of me.

  I want to say thank you, to somehow express how deeply indebted I am to every man and woman aboard this strange ship. Thank you for your service almost slips past my lips, but I clench my jaw to keep it back. Thank you for your service. It’s what they print in the notices, the letters sent to tell you your children have died for a useless war. How many parents did I watch weep over those words? How many more will receive them, when the Measures send even younger children to the front?

  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. Ye
t 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.

  Somehow, this hurts more. Scowling, I glare at them both until they realize I’m waiting for answers.

  Kilorn grits his teeth and has the good sense to look apologetic. He gestures to Shade. Passing the blame. “You know more than I do.”

  “The Guard likes to play things close to the chest, and rightfully so.” Shade adjusts himself, sitting up a little more. He hisses at the motion, clutching at his wounded shoulder, but waves me off before I can help him. “We want to look small, broken, disorganized—”

  I can’t help but snort, eyeing his bandages. “Well, you’re doing a terrific job.”

  “Don’t be cruel, Mare,” Shade snaps back, sounding very much like our mother. “I’m trying to tell you that things aren’t so bad as they seem. Naercey was not our only stronghold and Farley is not our only leader. In fact, she’s not even true Command. She’s just a captain. There are others like her—and even more above her.”

  Judging by the way she orders around her soldiers, I would think Farley was an empress. When I chance another glance at her, she’s busy redoing a bandage, all while scolding the nurse who originally set the wound. But my brother’s conviction can’t be ignored. He knows much more than I do about the Scarlet Guard, and I’m inclined to believe what he says about them is true. There’s more to this organization than what I see here. It’s encouraging—and frightening.

  “The Silvers think they’re two steps ahead of us, but they don’t even know where we stand,” Shade continues, his voice full of fervor. “We seem weak because we want to.”

  I turn back quickly. “Maven tricked you, trapped you, slaughtered you, and ran you out of your own house. Or are you going to try and tell me that was all part of another plan?”

  “Mare—” Kilorn mumbles, putting his shoulder against mine in a display of comfort. But I shove him away. He needs to hear this too.

  “I don’t care how many secret tunnels and boats and bases you have. You’re not going to win against him, not like this.” Tears I didn’t know I still had sting my eyes, prickling at Maven’s memory. It’s hard to forget him as he was. No. As he pretended to be. The kind, forgotten boy. The shadow of the flame.

  “Then what do you suggest, lightning girl?”

  Farley’s voice shocks through me like my own sparks, setting every nerve on edge. For a brief, blistering second, I stare at my hands knotted in Shade’s sheets. Maybe she’ll leave if I don’t turn around. Maybe she’ll let me be.

  Don’t be such a fool, Mare Barrow.

  “Fight fire with fire,” I tell her as I stand. Her height used to intimidate me. Now glaring up at her feels natural and familiar.

  “Is that some kind of Silver joke?” she sneers, crossing her arms.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  She doesn’t reply, and that’s answer enough. In her silence, I realize the rest of the compartment has gone quiet. Even the injured stifle their pain to watch the lightning girl challenge their captain.

  “You thrive on looking weak and striking hard, yes? Well, they do everything they can to look strong, to seem invincible. But in the arena, I proved they are not.” Again, stronger, so everyone can hear you. I call on the firm voice Lady Blonos brought to life in me. “They are not invincible.”

  Farley isn’t stupid and finds it easy to follow my train of thought. “You’re stronger than they are,” she says, matter-of-fact. Her eyes stray to Shade, lying tense in his bunk. “And you’re not the only one who is.”

  I nod sharply, pleased that she already knows what I want. “Hundreds of names, hundreds of Reds with abilities. Stronger, faster, better than they are, with blood as Red as the dawn.” My breath catches, as if it knows it stands on the edge of the future. “Maven will try to kill them, but if we get to them first, they could be—”

  “The greatest army this world has ever seen.” Farley’s eyes glass at the thought. “An army of newbloods.”

  When she smiles, her scar strains against its stitches, threatening to split open again. Her grin widens. She doesn’t mind the pain.

  But I certainly do. I suppose I always will.

  FOUR

  Farley’s not as tall as Kilorn, but her steps are faster, more deliberate, and harder to keep up with. I do my best, almost jogging to match her pace through the mersive corridor. Like before, the Guardsmen jump out of our way, but now they salute her as we pass, clasping hands to their chest or fingers to their brow. I must say Farley cuts an impressive figure, wearing her scars and wounds like jewels. She doesn’t seem to mind the blood on her shift, absently wiping her hands against it. Some of it belongs to Shade. She dug the bullet out of his shoulder without blinking.

  “We didn’t lock him up, if that’s what you think,” she says lightly, as if talk of imprisoning Cal is casual gossip.

  I’m not stupid enough to rise to that bait, not now. She’s feeling me out, testing my reaction, my allegiance. But I’m no longer the girl who begged for her help. I’m not so easily read anymore. I’ve lived on a razor wire, balancing lie after lie, hiding myself. It’s nothing to do the same now and bury my thoughts deep down.

  So I laugh instead, pasting on the smile I perfected in Elara’s court. “I can tell. Nothing’s been melted,” I reply, gesturing to the metal walls.

  I read her as she tries to read me. She masks her expression well, but surprise still flickers in her eyes. Surprise and curiosity.

  I haven’t forgotten the way she treated Cal on the train—with shackles, armed guards, and disdain. And he took it like a kicked dog. After his brother’s betrayal and his father’s murder, he had no fight inside him. I didn’t blame him. But Farley doesn’t know his heart—or his strength—like I do. She doesn’t know how dangerous he really is. Or how dangerous I am, for that matter. Even now, despite my many injuries, I feel power deep inside, calling out to the electricity pulsing through the mersive. I could control it if I wanted. I could shut this whole thing down. I could drown us all. The lethal idea makes me blush, embarrassed by such thoughts. But they are a comfort all the same. I’m the greatest weapon of all on a ship full of warriors, and they don’t seem to know it.

  We seem weak because we want to. Shade was talking about the Guard when he said that, explaining their motives. Now I wonder if he wasn’t also trying to convey a message. Like words hidden in a letter long ago.

  Cal’s bunk room is at the far end of the mersive, tucked away from the bustle of the rest of the vessel. His door is nearly hidden behind a twist of pipes and empty crates stamped with Archeon, Haven, Corvium, Harbor Bay, Delphie, and even Belleum from Piedmont to the south. What the crates once held, I can’t say, but the names of the Silver cities send a twinge down my spine. Stolen. Farley notices me staring at the crates but doesn’t bother to explain. Despite our shaky agreement over what she calls “newbloods,” I still haven’t entered her inner circle of secrets. I suppose Cal has something to do with that.

  Whatever powers the ship, a massive generator by the feel of it, rumbles beneath my feet, vibrating into my bones. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. Farley might not have locked Cal up, but she’s certainly not being kind either. Between the noise and the shaking sensation, I wonder if Cal was able to sleep at all.

  “I suppose this is the only place you could put him?” I ask, glaring at the cramped corner.

  She shrugs, banging a hand on his door. “The prince hasn’t complained.”

  We don’t wait long, though I’d very much like the time to collect myself. Instead, the wheel lock spins in seconds, clanking round at great speed. The iron hinges grate, screaming, and Cal pulls open the door.

  I’m not surprised to see him standing tall, ignoring his own aches. After a lifetime preparing to be a warrior, he’s used to cuts and bruises. But the scars within are something he doesn’t know how to hide. He avoids my gaze, focusing
on Farley, who doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the prince with a shattered heart. Suddenly my wounds seem a bit easier to bear.

  “Captain Farley,” he says, as if she’s disturbed him at dinnertime. He uses annoyance to mask his pain.

  Farley won’t stand for it and tosses her short hair with a sniff. She even reaches to close the door. “Oh, did you not want a visitor? How rude of me.”

  I’m quietly glad I didn’t let Kilorn tag along. He’d be even worse to Cal, having hated him since they first met back in the Stilts.

  “Farley,” I tell her through gritted teeth. My hand stops the door short. To my delight—and distaste—she flinches away from my touch. She flushes horribly, embarrassed with herself and her fear. Despite her tough exterior, she’s just like her soldiers. Afraid of the lightning girl. “I think we’re fine from here.”

  Something twitches in her face, a twinge of irritation as much with herself as with me. But she nods, grateful to be out of my presence. With one last daggered glance at Cal, she turns and disappears back down the corridor. Her barked orders echo for a moment, indecipherable but strong.

  Cal and I stare after her, then at the walls, then at the floor, then at our feet, afraid to look at each other. Afraid to remember the last few days. The last time we watched each other across a doorway, dancing lessons and a stolen kiss followed. That might as well be another life. Because it was. He danced with Mareena, the lost princess, and Mareena is dead.

  But her memories remain. When I walk past, my shoulder brushing one firm arm, I remember the feel and smell and taste of him. Heat and wood smoke and sunrise, but no longer. Cal smells like blood, his skin is ice, and I tell myself I don’t want to taste him ever again.

  “They’ve been treating you well?” I speak first, reaching for an easy topic. One glance around his small yet clean compartment is answer enough, but I might as well fill the silence.

  “Yes,” he says, still hovering by the open door. Debating whether to shut it.