by Rebecca Rode
Ember shrugged, her thoughts dashing about at breakneck pace. She’d have to find out more about these slaughters. Perhaps the general could be convinced to tell her more. Or even Neraline, if she’d forgiven Ember’s harsh words. She’d said her mother was a Union member back then. Maybe she knew more than she was letting on.
Ruben watched her, expressionless. Waiting. Perhaps he wasn’t so much like his father after all.
“Why are you really here?” Ember finally asked. “If you seek revenge for your mother’s death, you’ll most certainly die in the attempt.”
He looked relieved. “Believe it or not, I harbor no ill feelings for the Union, nor a love for the Empire. I only want freedom for my people in whatever form they can find it. You’re the first offer we’ve had.”
“And if the war ends, what will you do?”
“Ensure my people find safety, then return to my father’s planet. It’s fallen to me now, and the few who chose to stay—they’ll need a leader.”
There it was again, a nagging sense that his reply wasn’t quite the truth. Was her subconscious trying to warn her of danger? Or was she simply prejudiced against him because of his heritage?
She mumbled a goodbye and made her way back down the corridor toward her pilot’s quarters, deep in thought. Whether Ruben was trustworthy or not depended heavily on why he was here. If there were something he wasn’t telling her, she had to find out what before it was too late.
Upon their arrival the next day, Ember didn’t wait around to see if the general walked off the ship of his own accord. The moment the hatch opened, she gathered her flickers and dismissed them to their homes. Then she went to the rail to wait for a boat to take her to her quarters. The warm sunshine and waves below the platform felt familiar now. Not home, exactly, but somewhere she felt a little more comfortable.
Soldiers waited for Ruben’s people as they stepped off. As Ember watched, they guided the first fifty onto a larger boat—this one had several decks—before returning for the next group. There seemed to be only three vessels that size, which meant the process would take hours. She caught a glimpse of Ruben in the crowd, speaking to a young couple and holding a toddler in his arms. He caught Ember’s gaze and winked.
“Where are you taking them?” Ember asked one of the guards.
“A decontamination station for processing, Lady Flare,” he said, barely pausing as he made his way back to the ship.
“Ember.”
She turned to find Amai stepping out of a small vessel, a murderous look on her face. She stalked over to Ember. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What?”
“Flickers, Ember. You were supposed to fetch us soldiers, not families.”
She turned to the line that had formed, mothers holding infants and struggling to keep toddlers from the edge of the platform. They’d been warned about the water composition already. “Nearly all the adults are flickers, and probably some of the children as well. You said nothing about tearing families apart.”
“This is a military station, not a charity.”
“They come together or not at all. Surely the Daughter will understand.”
Amai put her hands on her hips. “How are they supposed to serve in your unit while holding babies? Chasing toddlers around while fighting the Empire? Because we certainly don’t have the resources to start a massive day-care effort.”
“I did as ordered. We even fulfilled the mission without losing a single life.” She’d avoid mentioning General Pyne’s injury for now. “These people are healthy and ready to serve. We just need to make the best of it.”
Amai stared at her. “You don’t get it, do you? We don’t have the resources for these people. We simply don’t.”
Ember straightened, determination warming her blood. “Then we’ll have to find the resources because I’m not sending them back.”
“You aren’t doing anything. You’ll return to your quarters until summoned.”
Now it was Ember’s turn to gape. “The mission was a success. My team performed perfectly; we did everything you asked.”
“That’s not the point. Just—just go.” Amai turned and walked toward the crowd gathered near the ship’s hatch. The two pilots emerged and made their way over to Amai with wide smiles.
“Ember!”
She rolled her eyes and turned to find Reina striding toward her. Brennan hurried along behind her, wearing a sheepish frown.
“How dare you?” Reina snapped, stopping in front of her. Ember had the distinct impression the woman would have slapped her if they were alone. “Do you realize how cold that hold was? Three days of shivering. I couldn’t even sleep, I was so cold. You’ve probably given half of us hypothermia.”
Ember gritted her teeth, suddenly too weary to argue. “Not now, Reina.”
“Then when? Don’t think for a moment we’re going to serve you after that fiasco. I told you, Brennan. Lady Flare doesn’t care whether we live or die.”
It was then that Ember snapped, slamming through Reina’s shield. She held the girl’s inner light in her hand before she even realized what happened. She growled, staring Reina down. “You will not say such things to my face again, soldier. Do you understand me?”
Reina stared, bug-eyed, as she went still. She must have felt Ember’s touch all too keenly. “I—yes.”
“Do you?”
“Yes ma’am, Lady Flare. I apologize for my outburst. It was inappropriate.”
Ember stood there for a moment, holding the girl’s memories, her emotions, her entire life in one hand. She could look inside and discover why the girl hated her so much. With a single blow, she could send Reina to the ground for several hours. She’d never cross her again after that. In fact, she would—
Ember released the light and took a step back, horrified.
She hadn’t intended to do that. It had just happened.
Reina scrambled away before Ember could change her mind. Brennan stood rooted to the ground, gaping at Ember as if she were a monster.
A monster.
Neraline was right. She’d broken through that girl’s shield as if it were air. She’d only done that once before, under the power of Kane’s collar. It had taken the control from her and acted of its own accord, following Kane’s commands instead of hers.
Ember raised a trembling hand to her neck where the collar had once sat. An eternal reminder of the day she’d become an assassin.
She couldn’t let it happen again. She would avoid using her power for the time being, like Neraline recommended. Maybe she had some new advice on how to slow the process, perhaps even reverse it. She just couldn’t hurt any more of her friends.
A boat finally pulled up, shaking Brennan out of his shock. He leaped to the boat and opened the door for her, standing well clear of her path. She ducked inside and took a seat, sending him a grateful wave.
“To your quarters, Lady Flare?” the driver, a young lady not much older than Ember, asked.
“Yes. I need to speak with Neraline as soon as possible.”
The driver tensed, then turned to face Ember. “You don’t know?”
Suddenly the waves’ gentle rocking faded, the chatter on the platform behind her merely a humming in her ears now. It seemed an eternity before Ember could answer, dread gripping her heart. “Know what?”
“Neraline threw herself off the platform earlier this week. They retrieved her body, but she was already gone. I’m sorry.”
Chapter 13
Stefan had just returned to his quarters to eat what remained of his dinner when the doors slid open. The room filled with guards followed by a smirking Harpen.
He turned to confront her. “What is this? You can’t—” Then he noticed the tablet in her hand.
“Can’t what, exactly?” she asked. Then she glared at the guards. “Leave us.”
The man with the most badges paused. “But ma’am, we haven’t searched him for weapons yet.”
“He’s clean.�
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The guard hesitated briefly before giving a crisp salute. Then he made a hasty exit with the others. Now it was just Stefan, Harpen, and—
“Your Eminence,” Stefan said, not bothering to smile at the screen Harpen thrust into his hands. “Welcome to my humble home.”
“Nothing on this ship is yours, boy. That includes your miserable life.”
He pressed his lips firmly together so he wouldn’t say something he regretted. “What can I do—”
“Shut your mouth and listen. A Union ship swept into Arcadia and stole nearly all of Commander Kane’s flicker subjects yesterday.”
“You think it was Ember,” Stefan said.
“It’s already been confirmed. Tell me why the woman would agree to do such a thing.”
There was no doubt, then. She was definitely serving L—that was, the Daughter. He let her real name float away, refusing to think about that with Harpen near. She had a strange knack for seeing through his shield, and if the emperor ever found out what he knew—no, he wouldn’t think about that, either.
He considered pointing out that she was likely following orders, but this was the emperor. He didn’t want the obvious. “I suppose she may have a soft spot for other flickers, Your Eminence. She believes our gift is given to us from the stars, like some kind of divine mandate.”
The emperor chuckled. “Such a misguided notion. Absolutely ridiculous.” Even Harpen hid a smile where she stood out of sight of the screen.
Stefan didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what he believed. The flicker gift was definitely passed on through DNA, that much was clear. But where had it originated? Who could say for sure it hadn’t begun as some mystical, incomprehensible force?
The thing that bothered him most was that the leader of the Empire had shared a high-level military secret with him, and he didn’t appear the least concerned about Stefan wandering the ship with that information. Was he so trusting, or did he know how limited Stefan’s supposed freedom really was? It had to be the latter. Irritation began to boil inside him.
The emperor paused to cough, and then something strange happened. Instead of muting the cough, the system broadcast it to him in all its strength. The man’s exhalations were weak, tired. Like some invisible force gripped his lungs, preventing him from fully expelling whatever held the man bound. Suddenly he seemed like any other elderly man, stooped and worn. Tired.
Then the moment was gone. The emperor and his royal bearing returned. “On to my real purpose here, boy,” he boomed in his generated voice. “It’s been nine days and my commanders have yet to receive a single report from you.”
Stefan kept his head down, trying to look contrite, but his mind was on the tablet’s smoothing feature. How old was this man? Was he as close to death as he appeared? “So the others have all filed reports, then.” According to Karyl, Candidate Four—the one endorsed by the high commander of war himself—was highly favored for the position. Stefan had seen him, a whirlwind of conversation and action, a few times in the corridors.
“They’ve caught and interrogated nearly thirty Union sympathizers. It makes me wonder what you’ve been doing all this time.”
Stefan’s story, prepared for a moment such as this, came easily. “I’ve been researching the Union’s previous bases, High One, trying to find consistencies. There are too many of them to live on ships, so we know they’re on a moon or planet somewhere. And it’s probably an oxygen-rich environment with plenty of water and fertile land. That narrows the list of possibilities down to about 120. I’ve been investigating each, starting with those closest to us to alleviate any threat they—”
“Fine, fine.” The Emperor waved his hand impatiently. “I’ll expect a report in the next few days. But there’s something of higher importance I must decide, and you’re going to help me. I believe it’s time to bring the flare to us.”
Stefan’s breath hitched. “Your Eminence? I don’t understand.”
“If the girl has such a soft spot for flickers, perhaps she’ll want to save them all. Even the poor souls trapped on a big bad Empire ship.”
“She wouldn’t take the risk for a few flickers.”
“And if we gathered nearly every Empire flicker to a single location? What then, Candidate One?”
An old ache surfaced from deep inside. Stefan had lost his brother in a similar feat. Had that been a trap too and his brother bait? He gritted his teeth and chose his words carefully, grateful the emperor couldn’t see how badly he wanted to strangle the man right now. “Unwise. She’d see the trap a million light years away. She’s too smart for that.”
“We’ll be smarter, then.” He paused thoughtfully. “We’ll gather all the Union prisoners to a single location and bring the flickers in for interrogation training. Even if they suspect the flickers’ gathering to be a trap, the lure of Union prisoners may be enough to warrant the risk. Yes, I think that will work.”
It might. Stefan hated to admit that, even to himself. “Maybe their leader won’t send Ember. Maybe she’s too valuable.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Harpen’s head rose slowly, her eyes boring into him suspiciously.
“If their foolish leader risked sending the gypsy to Arcadia, she won’t hesitate now. There’s too much to gain.” The emperor looked pleased. “You’ve been more helpful than expected, candidate. Perhaps there’s hope for you after all.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence.” He bowed his head and pasted a fake smile on his face. It wasn’t until Harpen left and the doors slid closed that he sank into a chair, his dinner tray long forgotten.
“Stay away, Ember,” he whispered to the empty air. “Stay where you are, and I’ll come for you. I swear it.”
Chapter 14
Neraline was gone.
Ember couldn’t sleep nor eat. The only thing she felt capable of was sitting in a chair, staring at the floor, allowing her mind to run freely. Her thoughts took her places she had refused it access before—the moment of Dai’s death, when he faced the Last Goodbye alone. Her mother’s wide, shocked eyes as the life left her. The betrayal and hurt in Bianca’s expression. How Neraline had recoiled when Ember told her to move on.
Her words must have haunted Neraline for days. They would haunt Ember forever.
He never spoke your name, Neraline. Not once.
You should have moved on like he did.
Now she had, in her own way.
I tried.
Ember had chosen not to see the signs—the way Neraline lowered her voice when she spoke Dai’s name. Her soft smile as she recounted their moments together. Her hollow expression when Ember tried to shove her back, to remind her she wasn’t a part of their family. She’d done the job too well.
He never spoke your name. Not once.
The words of an angry, suffering girl who wished to inflict pain on a woman who had shown her nothing but love. Ember was pain. She could barely contain it sometimes, the broken shards she carried inside. Sometimes they shot out when she got too close to people. She couldn’t trust the people around her, but they also couldn’t trust her.
Ember doubled over in her chair, missing Dai with everything in her. His loss threatened to overwhelm her, to carry her outside and over the rail. But that was better than she deserved. Neraline’s death had sprung from love. Ember’s would have come from guilt.
If only Stefan were here. He’d always been able to see things the way they truly were. He would put his arms around her and let her sob into his shoulder, let the pain melt and leak out slowly. There she would finally be safe. He would—
A sharp, firm knock sounded on Ember’s door, pulling her back to the present. Her room had darkened while she sat there, the outlines of her furniture barely visible now. She clicked on a light and wiped her eyes, which were dry. Another sign Ember was broken. She couldn’t even cry for the woman she’d murdered.
A second knock. “Ember?”
It was a man, not Amai. “Harlow?” she muttered to herself, making her w
ay to the door. She’d left it unbolted, almost wishing someone would burst through and finally end it. She swung the door open and stepped back. It wasn’t Harlow. Ruben stood there, exhaustion lining his eyes. He wore a crisp flicker uniform, marking him a new member of Ember’s team, his hair neatly combed. But his slight smile turned downward as he examined Ember. “What happened?”
“Ruben,” she croaked. Her brain wasn’t working right. Why hadn’t the guards stopped him? How had he found her quarters? It didn’t make sense.
“You look terrible. I think you’d better sit down.” He placed a hand firmly on her shoulder, guiding her back into the room. He eased her toward the nearest chair, then seated himself across from her. “You look like a relative just died. Please tell me how I can help.”
She didn’t want Ruben. She wanted Stefan. And Dai, and her mother, and Neraline, and Bianca, and Mar. Ember was pain. She did nothing but hurt those who came too close.
“You can’t,” she said, placing a mental wall between them. She didn’t need Kane’s son poking around her business in his charming way. She drew the broken pieces of herself together and sat up straight, donning her Lady Flare mask. “Tell me why you’re here. Actually, you’d better start with how you got past my guards.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I tried reasoning with them, telling them I had to talk to you. When that didn’t work, I used a choke-hold maneuver my father taught me. They’re sleeping quite peacefully outside your door.”
She tensed. “You knocked out my—”
“I had to talk to you,” he rushed on. “You had to know. The Daughter is sending our children away.”
Ember paused, then slumped into her chair again. “She’s doing what?”
“It was announced an hour ago. Those who test positive for flicker abilities will automatically be recruited, the negatives will stay in a service profession, and all children under sixteen will be sent away regardless of ability.”
“What?” It burst from Ember before she could stop it. “But they can’t do that. I promised families could stay together.”
