by Rebecca Rode
A flick of the wrist and it was done. The lights were separated forever from their bodies, fading away with the others. A second cry rose up as dead bodies fell around the survivors. She grabbed a second handful.
“Ember,” a man’s voice said, breaking her focus. “What are you doing?”
She opened her eyes. It was that man again, the one Ember fancied herself in love with. Stefan had unbuckled his harness and now knelt in front of her like a supplicant before a queen. The others watched warily from the safety of their seats.
The Stefan man lifted his hand to take hers, then seemed to think better of it. “You did it. The fighters aren’t firing at us anymore. Now we need you to find our target ships and have them follow us. Can you do that?”
Follow them? She had no intention of going back to that hellhole. She would head straight for sector two, where Ruben hid, cowering like the child he was. She would defeat him and take the throne. Then the real fun would begin.
The Stefan man’s voice grew pleading. “Ember, please do it quickly. The backup is nearly here.”
“Stand aside and you won’t get hurt,” she snapped.
One of the flickers sitting against the wall, a dark-haired woman with choppy hair, muttered a curse.
The freckled girl on the end spoke now, her face irritatingly patronizing. “Ember, thank you for stopping the attack. We’re free of the formation. Now we need you to bring out those ships Stefan described. Knock out the passengers and make the pilots follow us back.”
“We’re not going back. I’ll use any flickers who stay out of my way, but do not interrupt me again.”
Stefan flinched. The girl who had spoken went a lighter shade of pale.
Stefan stood and reached into his pocket. She saw the grim resolve in the tightness of his mouth. The other flickers were sufficiently cowed. This man, however, needed to be removed from the picture altogether if she was to maintain control. Ember unbuckled her harness and rose to face him as he took a step backward.
“The woman you profess to love is gone.” She gripped his shield and squeezed, cracking it easily. Cold fear radiated from within him. He was afraid of her. How quaint. She grinned and let her hand close around the bright soul within.
“You’re wrong,” Stefan said, pointing a stunner at her with a trembling hand. His mouth tightened as he pulled the trigger.
She growled as a giant, invisible fist slammed into her chest, sending her flying into the darkness once again.
Chapter 13
Ember brought her hand to her eyes, shielding them from the offending brightness, the room around her coming into focus. She lay on a hard cot in a small white room that was completely unfamiliar. A shadow crossed the light.
“Nice and slow,” Stefan said, looking down at her, a stunner aimed at her head.
She blinked. Had the world gone mad? She racked her brain for a reason—any reason—he would behave like this.
“Tell me who you are,” he said. His eyes were pinched as if he were exhausted, and his hair was a lopsided mess. What had he been through these past hours?
His question made no sense. “First explain the stunner,” Ember said, glancing around the room. They were alone except for a guard in the doorway. No, not a guard. Brennan. He wore a guard’s gray uniform and watched her solemnly.
Stefan kept the stunner raised. “And what’s your plan? Do you still want to kill me?”
The question was so bizarre, so out of context, she just gaped. “Stefan, I never . . . why are you asking me these questions?” Then it hit her. The base. The evacuation. The battle.
“You had to shoot me?” Ember asked, her voice wobbly.
Stefan released a ragged breath and lowered the stunner. Then his arms were around her, crushing her to his chest. “I thought you’d left me for good.”
She struggled to recall details, but the memories were hazy. Flashes of color. Shouts. The thrill of freedom. It must have been bad indeed if Stefan had risked hurting her to stop the shadow.
“This is a different ship,” Ember said as realization dawned. He released her and helped her up as she looked around, alarmed. “Did we get the craft we needed? The cargo? Did the prisoners get released? Is the Empire on its way?”
“Whoa, there,” Stefan said as he sat next to her and took her hand, his thumb brushing against her palm. It felt so familiar. “One question at a time. Yes, we’re on the spaceliner now. There are six other ships following us. They aren’t the ones we initially targeted, but we didn’t have to take them by force. They’re new recruits donating their vessels to the cause. They were impressed by your demonstration.” His jaw tightened. “The bad news is the Empire knew we were coming a day before we arrived. That means we’ve had a spy in our ranks, which probably means they know the location of our base as well.”
Ember gripped his hand tightly. “Do they know about Helden Farr?”
A shadow passed over his face. “We don’t know. I’ve interviewed every survivor on our initial ship, and everyone says their shields held. We don’t have a choice but to continue as planned. A few of our advance ships have already left. The vanguard is due to arrive in about two days. It’ll be close, but we’ll make it.” He gave her a tight smile. It looked much like the one Dai gave Ember when he was hiding something from her.
“The convoy passengers,” Ember said. “The ones who didn’t volunteer. You didn’t say they were released. Did Captain Terrance decide to keep them as prisoners?”
A long pause. “They aren’t a threat to us. We need to focus on getting the revolutionaries out now.”
Something was definitely wrong. Stefan was trying to redirect her attention. “There must have been hundreds of them, Stefan. Did they eject before we left?”
His hand tightened on hers, and he covered it with his other, his face blank. “Let’s discuss this later. You’ve been through a lot.”
She turned to the door, where Brennan stood guard. “Tell me what happened.”
The flicker shifted his feet. “You did your work thoroughly, Lady Flare.”
There had been tens of thousands of souls in that convoy. Dread pummeled her stomach. She vaguely remembered examining the individual lights, searching for something. “How many?”
“Ember—” Stefan began.
“Tell me how many people I killed.”
A long silence fell on the room. The irritating whiteness of the walls, the ceiling, the floor added to Ember’s discomfort. A room meant for healing. She didn’t belong here.
“If our estimates are correct,” Brennan said carefully, “you took over three thousand lives in less than two minutes.” Stefan glowered at him, but Brennan didn’t meet his gaze.
Three thousand.
Her insides twisted until she thought she’d lose the contents of her stomach. Only a small percentage of that number were Empire soldiers. The rest were innocent bystanders conducting business, going on vacation, or returning to their families. People who would never make it home because of her.
Oh, Ember. When will you see that the storm is you?
“There’s something else, Lady Flare,” Brennan said hesitantly.
Stefan stood, dropping Ember’s hand. “That can wait. Thanks for watching the door, Brennan. Now, do me a favor and fetch the medic.”
Ember slid off the bed and placed herself between the two men. “The Empire is on their way to obliterate us. We’re running for our lives. Tell me what’s going on, or I’m marching out there and asking every person I meet.”
Brennan and Stefan exchanged worried glances. That knife inside wriggled its way deeper into her consciousness. Ember had murdered thousands and brought the Empire down upon them. What could possibly be worse?
“A pod ejected from our ship in the chaos,” Stefan finally said. “A single passenger was aboard. Sensors show it sent a transmission to one of the Empire fighters before you obliterated them. They probably had enough time to send it on.”
A chill swept through Ember.
Not only did they have a spy, the defector had been on their own ship. Ruben would know exactly where their base was, their numbers, their military strengths, their weaknesses. The only thing they wouldn’t know was where Ember’s revolution was headed next.
“Do we know the person’s identity?” she asked, steeling herself for his answer.
“I saw the security footage myself.” There was pity in Stefan’s eyes. “It was your Roma friend Bianca.”
Chapter 14
The shock hit Ember square in the gut, stealing breath from her lungs. This couldn’t be happening. “But I left her behind. Amai was going to watch her.”
Brennan closed the door and stood in front of it, shuffling his feet as if he wanted to escape. Stefan stared at the floor as he replied. “She must have snuck on board. We’ve searched through the records, but her name isn’t there. We’re still trying to figure out exactly what happened.”
It was all falling into place now. That woman in the cafeteria, the one who reminded Ember of Bianca. No wonder the woman kept her face down. She was trying not to get caught. But Ember still couldn’t imagine Bianca capable of such massive betrayal.
Ember reviewed their last conversation, remembering the flatness in Bianca’s voice as she’d accused Ember of being on the wrong side. She should have seen the signs—the hopelessness in her friend’s eyes, the defensiveness in her stance.
Her last words as she stalked off. If you really cared, you’d end this and turn yourself in to the emperor so we could all live in peace.
It was so obvious now. Ember couldn’t believe she’d missed it. Bianca had never truly joined the revolution. It meant food, shelter, and a place to sleep. Now that Bianca spoke Common well enough to get around, she was ready to find herself a new life—apparently under Empire control.
“I still think we’ll be all right,” Stefan continued, giving Ember’s hand a squeeze. “She was a cafeteria worker. She didn’t have access to much information. We’ll get back, finish the evacuation, and keep a close eye on the vanguard.”
Ember’s earlier dread came back tenfold. She reviewed the conversation again, trying to remember exactly what she’d told Bianca. Had she mentioned Helden Farr by name? No, she realized with a relieved sigh. If Bianca knew about their next destination, she hadn’t learned it from Ember.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I need a hard drink.”
“I’m with you there.” Stefan led her to the door. “Come on. I’ll show you where the bar is.”
The next day, Ember sat on the floor in her suite’s spacious closet, fingering her overnight bag. Stefan had spent nearly every minute of the last sixteen hours with her until being called away for a meeting. Ember told herself it was unrelated to her, but by the way her flickers avoided her lately, she knew they felt more comfortable without her present. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
As she sat in the too-bright, shelved room, she reviewed what she knew for sure. First, the base had confirmed the location of the vanguard. Sa’Kahn’s warning was real—thousands of enemy ships would converge on their little planet in less than two days. When Stefan said it would be close, he wasn’t exaggerating. Ember’s team would arrive in a few hours. If nothing else went wrong, they’d load up the remaining groups and supplies and be gone by tonight.
The others seemed sure Helden Farr would solve all their problems once they reached it. Ember wasn’t so sure. The Empire was still looking for them, and their destination was at the other end of the galaxy. A lot could happen between here and there.
Then there was the third issue, the one Ember felt most powerless to solve. Even now she felt the shadow writhing like an impatient person pacing a room. Waiting. It felt more tangible than ever.
She retrieved her hand mirror from the bag at her feet. It was an old Union-issued version that fit perfectly in her palm, barely large enough to see her whole face when she extended her arm. She hadn’t used it in weeks.
Today her black hair was matted and hung over her face. Her dark eyes were sunken and bloodshot. Skin that hadn’t seen the sun in months stretched pale and lifeless. She looked half dead.
A faint knock sounded at the door before Mar peeked in. “Do you have a second? I wanted to talk to you before we arrive.”
It was ironic—Ember had been so willing to trust her flicker team members, people who avoided her now. And yet it was Mar who sought her out. Even now, after Ember’s devastating massacre, Mar’s voice was cheerful and full of hope. She reminded Ember of Stefan. The way he used to be, at least. He seemed so anxious these days.
Ember motioned across from her. “I don’t have chairs, so the wall is all yours.”
Mar closed the door and sat on the ground, positioning her legs awkwardly in front of her. She looked so uncomfortable Ember had to laugh. Apparently Olvenacks didn’t often sit on the floor.
“Stefan said you liked to hide in here.” Mar cocked her head, looking at Ember’s hand. “You doing your hair, or . . . ?”
Ember had forgotten about the mirror. She stuffed it into her open bag. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“You’ve been doing too much of that.” Mar pursed her lips, examining Ember. “When’s the last time you washed your hair?”
She couldn’t remember. Hair and clothing seemed such a nuisance when entire civilizations were at risk. “I’m not sure.”
“Let me have a look.” Mar dug into the bag and retrieved a brush. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“You’re an intelligent, capable woman, and you deserve to look the part when you step off this ship. I’m doing your hair for you.”
Something stirred deep within Ember. Bianca used to brush Ember’s hair when they were girls, murmuring about how thick and long it was. Somehow, having Mar take that place felt right. Mar, the friend who’d returned to help the cause rather than betray it.
Ember’s throat felt a little raw at the thought. “I would love that. Thank you.”
Minutes later, Mar had run washing powder through Ember’s hair and worked it through the roots. Now she ran the brush through it, smoothing the ends. A comfortable silence fell over them. It said more than words ever could have.
Finally Mar set the brush down with a tap. “Would you like me to braid it? I heard your friend always braided hers.”
That tightness in her throat returned. “No. I won’t wear a braid until I’m married.”
Mar paused. “That’s right. I forgot about the Roma thing. So you wear your hair down until you’re married, then braid it forever after. Seems like you should have a third option. Haven’t you ever worn it off your neck, just for fun?”
Ember didn’t hide her confusion. “You mean like a tail?”
Her friend chuckled. “Not exactly. Don’t worry, you’ll love it. I can’t wait to watch Stefan’s jaw drop when he sees you.” She picked up Ember’s hair and began to separate the strands. “It’s good to see you two talking again. Although, to be honest, I expected you to be married by now. Are you telling me that idiot hasn’t asked you yet?”
He had. Twice, actually. But Ember had managed to deflect the conversation both times, saying she wished this was all over so they could. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry him. It was just so complicated.
She’d spent her life imagining the perfect plotchka, the traditional Romani service, where her father would deliver her to the groom on the platform. She would wear a colorful gown with coins sewn in to signify wealth and prosperity. He would promise her the world, and they would leap over a flame together signifying their dedication to follow one another anywhere.
But one by one, those images had disappeared. Her father. Her village’s platform. The audience. She didn’t even have a traditional skirt anymore, even if she knew where to find coins. An Empire service just felt . . . empty.
And now there was something far more important to consider. Marrying Ember would mean a lifetime of fear for Stefan. They both knew she was slipping away, being
replaced by a half-crazed dictator who could kill him with a single thought. And that was the happy part of their future. Eventually the virus would take her life as it had Dai’s.
Stefan carried that little box with the antidote with him everywhere he went. He’d kept his promise to let her decide. He could have forced it down her throat when she was unconscious. Why hadn’t he? The way he’d stood over her as she awoke—like he wasn’t sure which version of Ember she was. She wondered if he regretted it. If she took it now, they would have their future together—but at the expense of everyone else.
“You know,” Mar said when Ember didn’t answer. She began to twist Ember’s hair in the back. “Stefan didn’t sleep at all that night after the convoy. He stayed by your bedside and held your hand. I checked on him a few times, even tried to switch with him for a while so he could rest, but he refused.” She chuckled. “I know he shot you and all, but it’s clear he loves you. Not the hot and heavy kind but something deeper. It’s kind of beautiful, really.”
There was a wistful tone to her friend’s voice. Did she still have feelings for Stefan, or did she wish for that kind of love for herself? Ember was still trying to make sense of it all. Stefan knew the extent of her lies now. He’d seen the broken pieces of Ember, and instead of running, he had stepped in and held her together.
All this time, she’d assumed Stefan would be killed in a battle, perhaps by Ruben. It hadn’t occurred to her that it would happen by her own hand. If Ember lost herself again, Stefan would pay for it with his life. And it was clear now that she couldn’t use her gift without releasing the shadow. She had to find a way to both protect Stefan and defeat Ruben.
Mar sat back, releasing Ember’s head. “There. Grab the mirror and tell me what you think.”
Ember obeyed, clasping the tiny mirror in her hand and angling it at her face. She blinked. This woman couldn’t possibly be her. She hadn’t worn her hair up since childhood, but this—it was something she could get used to. Her greasy hair had been cleaned and brushed to a brilliant shine. It curved out of sight around the back, leaving just a wisp of curl at the sides. The front swept over her face in an attractive way, framing it rather than hiding it. Her neck looked long and slender now. She found herself sitting up a little straighter.
