by Rebecca Rode
Med Farrsini raised his hands in surrender before Stefan finished. “I suspect a few gulps will suffice. But like I said before, Stefan, it’s impossible to know without testing. And if you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly have test subjects lined up. All I can tell you for sure is that it’s ineffective for flickers.”
Stefan frowned. “How do you know that?”
The medic cleared his throat, reddening. “I, uh, know a flicker who’s been asking me to create a cure. She agreed to take it to see if it worked.” He saw the concern in Stefan’s face and rushed on. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell her who it was for. She’d never guess in a million years.”
Stefan nodded again. “And this is the only vial?”
“It is.” The medic looked irritated at Stefan’s reminder of their agreement. If the man really had found a cure for Ember’s flare condition, he should be hailed a hero. But instead, Stefan had insisted he keep it all a secret. This was more important than a medic’s life work. This tiny vial was going to save Ember’s life.
If he could convince her to drink it, of course. That would be the hard part.
Stefan retrieved a tiny box from his pocket and placed the vial carefully inside. As he secured the tie and returned it to his pocket, another question occurred to him. “How effective would this be on another flare? Future offspring, for example.”
Surprise flashed briefly across the medic’s face, although, to his credit, the man hid it well. “It directly targets the flare gene, so it would work on anyone with those particular abilities, related or not. Although I would say come to me before you administer it to an infant. We may need to size the dose accordingly.” A pause. “Are you implying that—”
“No,” Stefan said quickly. They didn’t need that rumor floating around too. “Thanks for your help.”
The medic looked disappointed, but he leaned closer to Stefan in an annoyingly conspiratorial way. “Before you go, I’ve heard some interesting stories about our lovely Lady Flare. Are you sure she will be willing to give up her power so easily?”
Here we go. Stefan pulled away and shook the man’s limp hand. “You’ve done good work, Med Farrsini. I really appreciate your assistance—and your silence on this matter.” He’d already threatened the man once about discussing the antidote with others, but maybe a reminder was necessary. For a moment, Stefan was tempted to sneak a peek at the man’s future, just to see if he’d keep Ember’s secret, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He would never be that kind of flicker.
“I’m only asking because I have a colleague,” the man rushed on. “A psychologist. She’s very good. If you fail to convince the gypsy woman, perhaps we can help.”
Stefan pushed the curtain aside and strode into the main room. “She doesn’t like to be called a gypsy. And whatever you’ve heard, it’s unlikely to be true.”
“They say she’s unstable.” The medic was two steps behind him. “Talks to herself, rarely sleeps, hides in her chambers whenever possible. Someone even said they heard Lady Flare is prone to fits of temper.”
Stefan gritted his teeth as patients looked up from their beds. The medic could at least lower his voice. “I don’t know where you’re getting your gossip, sir, but Ember carries a heavier burden than any of us. If you’d been through what she has, you’d look like that fellow over there.” Stefan motioned a few meters away to a patient on the floor who was muttering silently to himself, his lanky body folded up as he stared at nothing.
The medic scowled. Stefan stalked down the walkway, ignoring the patients who’d peered around their privacy curtains to watch him. When he reached the doorway, the whispers began. Lady Flare’s lover. Not Stefan or even “the flicker.” Just the boyfriend of an infamous revolutionary with magic powers.
“Sir,” a voice called out to his right. The divider was open, revealing a female patient with both legs wrapped in gauze. She had to have fallen off one of the main trails to be so injured. “Please tell us. Is Lady Flare going to fight the emperor soon? We’re eager to return to our homes.”
He hovered there, eyeing the doorway leading outside. Just a few yards and he was free of this place and its gossip. He wanted to tell the woman that, no, Ember wouldn’t be facing Ruben again. Not after the last time when he’d almost lost her altogether. It was obvious another showdown would end badly for Ember. Either Ruben would execute her or Ember would come out an unrecognizable, bloodthirsty victor.
The woman seemed to draw into herself at Stefan’s expression. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so freely. I know you like to keep the cabinet’s plans a secret until they’re implemented. I meant no harm. It’s just that we’re all afraid. Being up here, so exposed . . .”
Until now it had never occurred to him what curing Ember’s virus meant. Once Ember’s power was gone, their greatest defense against the Empire was gone too.
“You’re in good hands,” Stefan finally said before he tore away, striding quickly toward the door. Shoving the fabric out of his way and letting it fall closed behind him, he welcomed the waterfall’s gentle mist bathing his face in coolness once again. Did these people say such things to Ember, too? He rubbed away the beginnings of a headache. This was a revolution, an army. The idea was for everyone to participate in the cause, not take free room and board until Ember fought the battle for them.
He could see their perspective—she’d beaten Ruben once, hadn’t she? Surely she could do it again. And yet, through their boasting there was a dark thread of doubt. These were the rumors he only heard in whispers—that Lady Flare’s mind was slipping, that she was sick and unstable. And possibly worse, that she was inexperienced, naive, and unfit to stand in a leadership position, let alone be trusted with a revolution.
It was ironic. Ember was only one member of the cabinet, yet people whispered more about her than anyone. Even Stefan, a former candidate for a high-commander position, hadn’t had as much scrutiny. People feared what they didn’t understand, and nobody understood Ember.
Not even Stefan. No matter how hard he tried.
No, this antidote had to be Ember’s choice. And if she chose to cure her virus and enjoy a long life, her followers would learn to continue on without her. She’d fought bravely for this long. Surely they didn’t expect her to sacrifice herself as well.
He stepped onto the walkway, watching where he walked so he didn’t end up like the woman in the medical center. They’d already lost much of their sunlight during his brief time inside. Evening was already settling upon the planet. He’d never get used to the shorter days here. Even during the daytime, the shadows of their haven made it difficult for Stefan to find his way. Only the corridors and control areas were wired with lights, albeit tiny ones. Each citizen was responsible for providing their own light in their quarters. Most opted to use small solar hand lanterns, but since they were only allowed above once a week and daylight hours were so short here, they often went without.
He took the upper trail to the giant concrete center tube, which led to the housing units deep underground. Ember was down there right now, probably wondering where he’d gone after Brennan’s report.
The medic was correct about one thing. Stefan wasn’t sure whether Ember would want the antidote at all. At first she’d been excited about the idea of removing her powers and halting the progress of the disease that had killed her father. But as time went on, Ember had grown more secretive, refusing to discuss the issue with him. It felt as if a wall descended between them every time he brought it up.
He hadn’t even mentioned it yet, and already he could sense a distance between them after today. Her eagerness to attack was sure to get around. Comms techs gossiped as bad as the patients, and there had been three of them present. Word would spread quickly. Soon “reckless” would be added to her list of faults.
None of that mattered now, though. He had the solution to Ember’s problem. He just had to convince her to see reason. Stefan patted the tiny box in his pocket, reassured by its
weight, then began his descent into the mountain.
Chapter 3
Worry gnawing at her stomach, Ember listened to the trickling of water nearby as she moved ever downward toward the housing units. In the control room, she’d forced a confidence she didn’t feel. She wasn’t sure her plan to protect these people would work, but she knew they couldn’t stay like Stefan wanted. If she knew him at all, he’d be down to discuss it soon.
He never confronted her in public. Yet another thing she loved about him.
As she turned the corner, she nearly ran into two children playing a game. They squealed at the sight of Ember, then stumbled away, giggling. Looking down, she noticed pictures in the dirt at her feet, the small electric lights overhead casting a faint glow over them. Ember allowed herself to smile. Somehow, even with fourteen thousand lives at stake and ever-decreasing rations, the younger generation always managed to find delight in their dark, cool surroundings. Had it been just a few years ago that Ember was so carefree?
The pain in her stomach intensified, and she suppressed the memories bubbling into her mind. Loss had tainted any happiness she once felt as clearly as her powers had tainted her soul. There was pain in reminiscing. She had to remember that.
“Lady Flare?”
She turned to find Syd, Amai’s daughter, running after her, lantern in hand. The girl was nearly an adult, yet still had the same spark of excitement those children did. Ember hoped she’d never lose it.
Syd pulled up, breathing hard, her bald head damp with perspiration. “Mother said to report to you. We found extra rations in one of the civilian caverns. The family of eight finally admitted the rations were a gift.”
Ember blinked. Amai usually handled matters like stolen rations on her own. “From whom?”
“Reina.”
That made her pause. Why would Reina, Brennan’s twin sister and one of Ember’s best flickers, steal food and give it to a family? Ember had appointed Reina to the cabinet just a few weeks before. She was on the mission with Brennan now, but she’d be at the meeting tomorrow. “Are they an Olvenack family?”
“No. That was my next question.”
Odd. “Then why choose them? Because they have so many children?”
“No idea,” she said. “They wouldn’t say more. I took the rations and told them to stay in their chambers for the time being while we sorted this out. They seemed surprised we were making such a big deal out of it.”
Adjusting the small lantern in her own hand, Ember sighed. Amai apparently wanted Ember to speak to Reina when she arrived tomorrow. Their supplies wouldn’t stretch far if there were thieves wandering around—especially in high places. “Thank you, Syd. Have you changed your mind about the combat team?”
The girl made a face. “No. The minute I turn eighteen, I’m moving to combat quarters. Mom is driving me out of my mind.”
Syd had served on Ember’s Union team a few months before. While she was a valuable asset, Ember had lifted the enlistment age to eighteen Standard years here. In Amai’s case, the limit still seemed too low. Poor Syd couldn’t wait to get her wings back, so to speak.
Syd shifted her feet. “Can I go now?”
“Certainly.”
Syd trotted off, her lantern sending shadows bouncing across the tunnel, and Ember turned back toward her destination. The housing office was a small chamber nobody spent much time in because of its water-saturation issue. The foreman had discovered a way to drain it, thankfully, but she still didn’t enjoy visiting him there. Just another half kilometer of tunnel to go. Her hair moved slightly as she passed a ventilation fan overhead.
There was giggling up ahead. Those children again. Ember craned her neck to see into the next open doorway she passed, trying to catch a glimpse of the innocent play. Then she halted. It wasn’t laughter.
A little girl sat on the floor, her legs and arms folded like she was cold. She had to be about four. A woman sat behind her. Like them, the room’s family-issue furniture—three hard bunks and a blanket each—was covered in a thick layer of brown dirt.
She recognized the pair from their journey here a few months ago. The girl looked like a younger version of Ember—darker skin, long black hair, stubborn pout. But today the girl’s silky hair was matted and unkempt, her clothing tattered. She looked pale and broken as she sat there weeping. Her mother stroked her back, but she looked as helpless as her daughter.
When the woman saw Ember, she immediately leaped to her feet and jerked the girl up with her. “Lady Flare! I can’t believe—I mean, thank you for coming. You heard about my Mia, then?”
The little girl sniffed, eyeing Ember with suspicion. She gave her a warm smile, but that stubborn pout was back again.
Ember entered and approached the girl, alarmed. “Has something happened?”
The woman paused as if realizing she’d been mistaken in Ember’s purpose here. “I—It’s nothing. We don’t mean to complain. She’s just a child. She doesn’t understand how lucky we are to have a home at all. We’re very grateful.”
“My belly really hurts,” the girl said matter-of-factly.
“She’s just not used to all this,” the mother said. “The cold, the darkness, the food. She’s . . . not reacting well to it.”
Poor dear. And she’d assumed the children were all doing well. “Have you brought her to the medical facility? They can test her for food allergies.”
“She’s been tested. Her body is rejecting the synthetic vitamins and minerals in our rations.” The woman lowered her voice to a whisper, though the girl could obviously still hear. “My daughter is losing weight and grows paler by the hour. She hasn’t kept anything down in days. And she isn’t the only one.”
Dread settled in Ember’s chest. “There are others?”
“Many. Mostly children, some adults.” She plunged on as if worried about offending her guest. “But like I said, I’m not complaining. I know you and the cabinet are trying to find us better food. We’ll hold on until then.” The woman wrapped her arms protectively around her daughter.
What did the woman think Ember was going to do, attack them? Didn’t they know she spent every waking moment trying to keep them alive?
A sudden exhaustion overtook the dread now, and she found herself swaying on her feet. “Report to the medical cavern again tomorrow. I’d like them to monitor your daughter’s nutritional deficiencies. And tell them I need a list of every affected individual right away.”
“As you command, Lady Flare.”
Ember seethed as she reentered the corridor. She’d have to speak with the manager over the medical facilities. She had some strong words for him. How dare he keep something so important from the cabinet? She’d appointed leaders from every department to the cabinet for this very reason. How was she supposed to protect them when they didn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth?
She was deep in thought as she entered the housing foreman’s office a few minutes later. The man sat at his desk, the electric floor drain humming as he worked.
He leaped up as she took an empty seat. “Lady Flare. I wasn’t sure you were going to come. Without guards again, I see. You really shouldn’t be wandering—”
“This isn’t working, is it?” she asked, her voice flat.
The man froze. “Pardon?”
“All these people. We’re keeping them alive, but they aren’t happy here. First there was the infighting, then the protests about the rations being cut. And now they’re reacting poorly to the food.”
“Food packets were never meant to be a long-term solution,” the man said, still looking startled. “It even says right on the package: ‘For temporary nutritional use only.’”
Could that be why her stomach bothered her so much these days? They’d planted a few trial seed farms up by the waterfall, but nothing was sprouting despite the attention of a dozen agricultural scientists. All this planet offered them was a collection of dead stumps littering the mountain above. As helpful as their massive
waterfall was, if it didn’t bring the nutrients they needed to their soil, this could never be a long-term home.
“You live in citizen housing,” Ember continued. The poor man probably thought he was being grilled, but she couldn’t suppress the anger in her voice. “Tell me something. Are they frustrated? Desperate for the war to end? Tired of being hungry? Do they wish they hadn’t come?”
The man sat back down in his chair, wide-eyed, like a criminal caught in a lie. “I, uh, couldn’t say.”
“I think you can.”
He swallowed and stared at the ground. “Yes. They do say that . . . among other things.”
Finally—definitive proof that they couldn’t stay here much longer. “Like what?”
He hesitated, still looking trapped. “That we’re waiting to die. That the new emperor wants to kill us as a public example. That he’s already on his way and he’ll destroy the openings and we’ll be buried alive under thousands of tons of pure rock. Others say we’ll starve or die of sickness first, and some even think you—” He gave a strangled croak, as if he’d said more than he meant to.
She smoothed her face and tried to look pleasant. “What? Tell me what they think I’ll do.”
The sweat gave his face a reflective sheen now. He fumbled through the items on his desk and grasped a tablet. “It’s nothing, Lady Flare, I swear to you.”
“Tell me.”
“I d-don’t know who said it, so please don’t ask. They said you had a demon inside you and that you would soon t-turn us over to the emperor to die.” His breaths came too quickly now.
Demons? That was a new one. Surprisingly, it was the most accurate rumor she’d heard yet. The looming shadow in her mind certainly did feel like a demon. But Ember had no intention of delivering anyone to Ruben, and it hurt that her so-called followers would imagine that of her.
You pretend to care for your friends, yet you hide behind them. We were meant to rule.
