by Mary Fan
Aurelia avoided his gaze. The last thing she needed was his pity. “You don’t have to worry about me going after Storm. I believed you when you said he didn’t send the fangbeast. It’s the rest that I’m not sure about.”
“What’s it going to take for me to convince you?”
I don’t think you can. Aurelia’s mind seemed incapable of allowing her to believe what he’d told her about Calhoun. Tamerlane had been trying to tell her the same thing, but just because two people said it didn’t make it right.
Connor sighed. “I think I know what’s going through your head. You believed in the Rising so wholly, and you were determined not to let anything change your mind. With the Triumvirate’s propaganda campaigns, that’s not a bad way to think. But now I’ve told you something that sounds completely bizarre, and you’ve even seen something akin to evidence. So you’re stuck, believing two things that can’t both be true. Does that sound right?”
That’s exactly how it is! Aurelia met his gaze. “How do you know me so well?”
“Because we’ve got the kind of bond even a year apart and ending up on opposite sides of a battle can’t break. I wish I didn’t have to pull you into all this, but the revolution is coming, and everyone’s going to have to pick a side.” Connor looked her in the eye. “Can you just trust me?”
Aurelia bit her lip. She’d already accepted that she’d been wrong about him being brainwashed by Storm. But accepting that she’d been wrong about everything was something else. Still, she couldn’t keep wandering around aimlessly. She needed a purpose, something to fight for. This waffling thing is driving me nuts! I’ve gotta just pick already.
But this was bigger than the choices she usually had to make—like whether to attack a monster or wait for it to come to her. With all her other decisions, if she turned out to be wrong, she could always pivot and set things right. But this one—this had huge, end-of-the-world-type consequences if she was wrong. Either she’d end up betraying the Rising and giving the horrible, murderous Triumvirs the chance to continue their evil reign, or she’d be part of bringing about something far worse.
Connor held her gaze, the question still in his eyes: Can you just trust me?
The sight of him warmed her heart. This wasn’t just anyone—this was Connor. No one at the Citadel had understood what that meant to her, how much she’d relied on his friendship at the Academy. He’d kept her sane when the world she’d known had fallen apart, when she’d realized that the Triumvirate she’d loyally served had never seen her as a human being. If her world was falling apart again, only he could set her straight.
If it all came down to whether or not she trusted him, and the big-picture stuff was just noise surrounding the question, her answer would be simple: Yes, Connor. I trust you.
He was the one person in the world who had never, never let her down and never would, even though she’d doubted him for a spell. The night the Defiants had attacked the Citadel, he’d broken off from the group, hoping to help her fight the fangbeast, which she now knew Storm hadn’t sent. The creature had just taken advantage of the breach Storm’s draugr had made in the Citadel’s perimeter. After the Defiants had retreated, Connor had risked getting caught by the Risers to come back and respond to the emergency message she’d sent him via N-Book when she was supposed to be out tracking Storm with Tamerlane and Nossiter.
Then he’d gone out of his way time and time again to meet her in the woods outside the Citadel and talk to her, gradually clearing her head of the lies Calhoun had made her believe about him and the Defiants. When Flynn’s arrival had forced him to flee that one night, he’d come back to check on her. If he hadn’t, she’d probably be a pile of bone dust right now. Wraiths took a powerful kind of magic to banish—so powerful that most Enchanters couldn’t banish even one without seriously injuring themselves. But Connor had drawn from his very life force to banish three and protect her. She’d later found out that the effort had sapped so much energy from him, he’d barely managed to goldlight back to Ember. If Storm hadn’t used a special spell to heal him, Connor probably wouldn’t have survived the night. And when she’d tried to thank him later, all he’d said was that he’d rather die than let anything happen to her. In other words, he’d nearly died for her and would again. No one else had ever cared about her like that.
Maybe I can’t believe in what he’s telling me, but I can believe in him. A choice had to be made, and she was done going back and forth.
She held out her hand. “Okay. Let’s go.” Like that, her mind was made up. She wasn’t going to waste any more time dwelling on whether she was right or wrong. The reasons she’d had for holding back before fell away, and only the reasons she’d left the Rising for remained. She’d made her decision, and she intended to stick with it.
Connor exhaled with relief. “Finally.”
He took her hand. A gold light enveloped Aurelia, and its heat sank into her skin. When the light faded, she found herself standing in a stone village square in the heart of Ember.
Chapter 29
Gathering
Flynn entered Calhoun’s office. “You wanted to see me?”
Calhoun sat at his desk, his thin fingers forming a steeple. Sunlight from the window nearly silhouetted him, and the three-dimensional map of the Palace of Concord hovered above his desk in green mist. Through the map’s translucent details, Flynn made out the outlines of the crystal he’d stolen from Augustine.
“Four days before it happens: the day of reckoning, the new Day of Glory.” Calhoun looked up, his eyes glinting. “Are you ready for the Rising?”
“Of course.” Flynn regarded the map. It looked every bit as dense as he recalled. He could hardly make out anything through the mess of green. “What’s this about?”
“Your role in the Palace invasion.” Calhoun reached into the map and waved his hands around until a close-up of the main gates appeared. A large, glowing crystal sat on either side of them. “The Palace is surrounded by an enchanted force field, powered by crystals like the ones you see here.”
“Let me guess. You want me to penetrate the enchanted shield and destroy them.”
“Exactly. The crystals contain powerful magic, but they’re fragile. A simple gunshot would destroy one.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. That’s the easy part.” Calhoun waved his hands through the map, manipulating the image. “The Enchanters among us will create a force field of their own to prevent the Triumvirs from goldlighting away. However, there are plenty of spells inside the Palace as well, guarding individual rooms. Not to mention, they have backup enchantments lined up to be deployed once the first shield goes down and herds of razorbirds, bloodwolves, and other nasty beasts. Your job is to get rid of them all.”
All? Calhoun had been exaggerating. Flynn cocked his head. “Okay…”
Calhoun stretched out a section that appeared to be underground. At its larger size, Flynn could actually make out what the image represented: a rectangular stone room. Other than a circular gate in the floor, it was empty. There were no windows and only one doorway, which led to a spiral staircase.
Calhoun gestured at the gate. “See that? The magic behind every enchantment guarding the Palace is generated by what lies beneath.”
Flynn looked closer. Detailed carvings of supernatural creatures covered the gate, and three snarling fangbeasts adorned the center. With the large ring on one side that presumably served as a doorknob, it reminded him of an elaborate cellar door. A word written in script so elaborate he’d taken it for a decorative set of loops at first caught his eye. It hovered before the image of the room. Apparently, it was some kind of label. “The Source?”
“That’s what they call it.” Calhoun’s gaze locked on the gate. “The Source of Palace Enchantments. It generates not only the Palace’s force fields but the control spells the Sentinels cast on the monsters as well. As
a safeguard, the Sentinels designed the spells to kill the beasts if they’re ever lifted.”
“So if I destroy the Source, I’ll get rid of… pretty much everything standing between the Risers and the Triumvirs.”
The corner of Calhoun’s mouth twitched. “Exactly. The Rising can’t happen without you. Are you up for it?”
“Yes.” Flynn was more than up for it. He was eager to play such a critical role in the Triumvirate’s downfall. “What exactly is the Source? Can you show me?”
“Afraid not. It’s apparently too precious to draw on a map, even one that’s meant to be comprehensive. According to Williams, it must be some kind of crystal, like the ones on the gate. I’m sure you’ll find a way to destroy it.”
So I’m going in blind again. Great. “Maybe I should bring a sledgehammer in case bullets aren’t enough.”
Calhoun barked out a laugh. “Except for Memory Orbs, magical objects are pretty breakable. You remember how easy it is to snap a wand.”
Flynn lifted his brows. “Grenade, then.”
“Believe me, you won’t need it. But if it makes you feel better, go ahead and bring one.” Calhoun’s expression firmed. “Whatever else happens, you get yourself down to that gate. Understand?”
“Yeah.” Flynn examined the carvings on the gate. “Once I destroy the Source, then what?”
“Then your part is done. The Palace will be nothing more than a building, and the Triumvirs won’t stand a chance of getting away.” Calhoun lifted his chin with a knowing look. “You want to free your friend in the dungeon, don’t you?”
Flynn nodded. Despite all the distractions and revelations of the past few days, he hadn’t forgotten that Brax remained locked up.
“My plans for you only go as far as that gate.” Calhoun leaned back in his chair. “Do whatever you like after.”
Footsteps from the hallway rushed toward the office. Flynn turned in time to see Kylie scramble through the open doorway.
“Sorry I’m so late.” She caught the doorframe, panting. “I was in the basement assembling Azur Shields.”
Calhoun smiled. “You’re actually just in time.” He gestured at the map. “Since Nightsider can’t touch this, I need you to help him navigate it.” He glanced at Flynn. “I’ll leave it to you to tell Varela what all this is about. Don’t leave until you’ve memorized the layout of the Palace. Can’t have you getting lost.”
He got up and left Flynn and Kylie alone with the map.
Kylie gave Flynn a questioning look. “What’s going on?”
Flynn explained what Calhoun had just told him, trying not to think about the weight of his task. He found he worked best when he broke things down into their simplest components and just did them. At present, all he needed to do was learn the layout of the Palace. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that between opening the gates to the Palace and breaking the enchantments keeping the Risers from the Triumvirs, the success of the revolution depended on him doing what he had to. If he failed, the Risers wouldn’t even make it into the Palace, let alone be able to capture the Triumvirs.
The entire rebellion was counting on him.
The summer heat was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The gray clouds didn’t seem to do anything to block the sun’s heat, and walking outside felt almost like swimming. Flynn was glad to be back inside the Citadel after another round of target practice. He tucked his gun into its holster and walked to the staircase.
By the time he reached the assembly room, it was half full. He spotted Kylie among the Risers and took a seat beside her. “Any idea why we’re here?”
Kylie shrugged. “Maybe we’re going over the strategy again?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Kylie twisted her hands. “What’s going to happen once the Triumvirs are gone? I know what Calhoun said about setting up an interim government with the other Riser leaders, but what if they can’t keep the people united? What if the nation falls apart?”
“You can’t think like that. Not now.” There was no room for uncertainty when the almost century-long reign of a corrupt regime was so close to falling. Flynn cared about two things and two things only: getting rid of the lying despots and freeing Brax from the hellhole they were keeping him in. “Let Calhoun deal with the politics.”
Kylie jittered. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening. We’re actually attacking the Triumvirs.”
“You don’t have to come.” As the day of the invasion drew closer, Flynn found himself hating the thought of seeing her run toward danger. “No one would hold it against you if you wanted to sit out the final battle.”
Kylie shook her head. “I know this is no place for me, but I’d never forgive myself if I stayed behind like a coward. And I need to be there for Brax when we get him out.”
Flynn nodded. For Kylie, as well as for him, the Rising was about more than taking down the regime. The Triumvirate was unjustly holding someone they cared about, and the battle was personal. He was sure every Riser and soon-to-be revolutionary had a similar tale, and ultimately, their combined passions would lead them to triumph.
Calhoun entered and strode to the platform, surveying the room. “Good, you’re all here. As you know, most of us Risers are hot-blooded citizens who, only a week ago, were malcontent schoolteachers, shopkeepers, and newspapermen. I’ve called this group specifically because you’re the most combat-ready.”
Huh? Flynn glanced around, and it suddenly hit him that all the Risers presently gathered were regular participants in rebel missions—ex-patrolmen, former Defenders, Enchanters who’d gone rogue.
A wave of wistfulness hit Flynn. If Aurelia were still here, she’d certainly be in that room, scoffing at the fact that Calhoun’s idea of “combat-ready” included Flynn and Kylie. While Flynn had successfully completed two missions, things hadn’t exactly gone smoothly. As for Kylie—she could use a bow, but that was about it. The Rising must have been desperate. They’d be so much better off if only Aurelia hadn’t left.
Calhoun’s gaze fell on Flynn. “I miss the Firedragon too, kid.” He’d apparently been able to read Flynn’s mind. “Her absence is actually the reason I’ve called everyone here today.” He glanced up at the audience. “The Firedragon was supposed to be Nightsider’s protector during the Palace invasion. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how important it is that the Untouchable One makes it to the Source. I don’t want to sound callous, but the fact is, there will be casualties. Nightsider can’t be one of them.”
All eyes in the room turned to Flynn. He cringed, hating that Calhoun had called a meeting specifically to worry about him. He should have been able to take care of himself. It especially bothered him that Kylie, who’d barely joined the Rising, had been chosen as one of his protectors. He should have been the one protecting her, not the other way around.
I wish Calhoun would stop treating me like some fragile infant. I took down a hellhorn, didn’t I?
“Don’t worry about the monsters.” Nossiter, who sat near the front, twirled a knife between her fingers. “The Firedragon’s not the only one who can take down a pack of bloodwolves. Also, our Untouchable One might not be able to use Azur Shields, but we can surround him and provide cover.”
Surround me? Flynn pictured himself amid a sea of Risers fighting off monsters. Even in his head, he looked pathetic. But with the fate of the revolution resting on his success, he couldn’t let pride take over.
Calhoun reached into his pocket and pulled out the green crystal containing the map of the Palace of Concord. “Let’s go over the layout again. The more familiar everyone is with it, the better.”
Flynn was sure he’d already memorized it, but it never hurt to be more prepared. He tried to focus on the map but couldn’t help noticing all the glances he kept getting from the other Risers. He knew what they had to be thinking: this kid had better not screw up. Som
e of them were probably wishing the Untouchable One were something more than just an ex-Secondstringer with a handful of combat tricks crash-coursed into him by a real fighter.
Trust me. I’m with you on that. The closer the day of the revolution drew, the more the pressure weighed down on him. Flynn knew he didn’t deserve the specialness that came with being the Untouchable One. He’d done nothing to earn the ability, and he certainly wasn’t the best person for all the tasks he was needed for. If the fates or whoever controlled such things had any sense, they would have granted the ability to someone like Aurelia. She would know how to use it to her tactical advantage rather than stumbling around the way Flynn did. He reminded himself that though he’d screwed up plenty of times, he hadn’t failed yet, and he didn’t plan on starting now.
Whether he liked it or not, the success of the revolution all came down to him.
The Palace of Concord rose in sharp silver angles above the great stone wall surrounding it, and its points seemed ready to pierce the low-hanging gray clouds. A pair of tall wooden gates at least twenty feet high stood in the center of the wall around the Palace. Bronze spikes covered it, and a red enchantment glowed across its surface, powered by the crystals on either side. Flynn eyed them and noted that they were lower than he’d anticipated—about ten or twelve feet above the ground. Good. Easier to shoot that way.
About a hundred yards of empty space lay between the gates and the line of Sentinels before him. They held out their wands, forming a high, translucent gold shield. They probably thought it impenetrable, but Flynn could walk right through it. He smirked, clinging to his ability because, if he let his guard down for a moment, fear might take over, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Only a few feet of pavement stood between him and the Sentinels. He lowered his face. He was sure he had a special place on their list of wanted criminals, and while they’d have trouble spotting him among the multitudes of Risers, he didn’t want to take any chances.
