by Rebecca Rode
Ember yanked her gaze away and settled on Neraline’s still form until the footage ended. The fire had probably rendered the rest useless. But thanks to the article, Ember knew what came next. The fire brigade had arrived and begun to pull bodies out, only to be knocked unconscious as well. One of the few people they managed to save was Neraline. She’d awakened alone in a hospital bed. Nick was long gone by then.
Maybe Er’len was right. How could such incredible powers be bestowed by the stars when they ended up hurting so many? If she was correct, that meant Stefan was as well. He believed her flare abilities were little more than a lab accident.
The origin didn’t matter. What mattered was that the stars had a clear vision for her now. If left unrestricted, flares could have run rampant across the universe, killing and destroying as they went. But the all-knowing stars had seen that future and bestowed a price that limited a flare’s influence. The more power a flare drew, the higher the cost. That was how Dai had lasted so long—he’d refused to use his ability for decades. Ember, on the other hand, used it often. So the virus would kill her faster. This was what she had to look forward to—years of gradual insanity with an abrupt, painful end.
Ruben’s virus had to be killing him too, Ember realized. If that were the case, he hid his pain well. It was a race now to see who lasted the longest. If she failed, Ruben’s insanity would destroy the realm like the former emperor had worried would happen.
Two flicker prophecies pitted against each other. Tomorrow would decide the winner.
Shouts suddenly sounded from outside.
Frowning, Ember switched the security feed off and turned up the volume. The commotion came from camera eight in the back alley. She switched the view and clenched her fists.
Two mechs had their weapons pointed at a woman standing in the shadows. It was Ember.
Her pulse quickened. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. She still had to send that last message. Ember hit the comms button on her—the guard’s—wristband and winced again at the deepness in her voice. “Leave the woman alone. She’s no threat.”
Her voice echoed on the security feed, but the mechs didn’t budge. She apparently had little jurisdiction here. A third figure ran toward the mechs and slid to a halt. A man, his shield rigid. He raised his stunner as well. “It’s the flare, Lara. Backup’s already on the way. Mechs, stun her if she so much as blinks, no matter what I say or do. She won’t get away this time.”
This man was familiar with Ember and what she could do. He was precisely the wrong guard for her to meet tonight. The dark figures of several more mechs slid out of the shadows, their weapons drawn. Somewhere deep inside, the voice laughed. It had tricked her after all.
Her hope faded away. Ember wouldn’t get the opportunity to post that last message, the one that would rally the city to battle. She would just have to make do with her preparations as they stood. And in the end, if she was alone, it would be as the stars intended.
Ember returned to her body and faced the man, who gave a start at her sudden glare. “You may call me Lady Flare. I wish to face Ruben Kane immediately.”
The man’s eye twitched as he stared at her in disbelief. Then he seemed to come back to himself.
And pulled the trigger.
Chapter 21
Stefan stood from his work and glanced at his fake wristband once more, wishing it was real so he could request an update. He’d willingly throw himself back onto the Empire’s network grid if it meant he knew what was going on. Around him, clusters of workers circled large piles of recently donated supplies, categorizing and placing the items on labeled shelves. It was all very organized and absolutely infuriating. Ember was in Ruben’s hands. Why pretend to care about combat boot sizes?
Yet beneath the whispers, the air was electric. Er’len’s resistance had waited for years for this opportunity. Today they would assassinate an emperor and finally take control of the realm. He kept hearing the same sentence whispered in different ways by different people, said each time with a nervous smile.
All words. None of it felt tangible to Stefan, not with Ember at risk. Er’len had agreed to Stefan’s plan too easily. He had to assume she would risk Ember’s life if it meant capturing her prey. And Stefan was supposed to help her do it.
The massive room was disturbingly quiet compared to the streets above. The resistance owned several blocks of restored buildings, all connected and compartmentalized with sliding doors for security. Nobody would tell Stefan the extent of the movement, but there had to be several thousand workers in these structures, and that didn’t include the roaming street teams. If he stayed another few weeks, he’d learn much about how the Albine resistance operated. But they were down to hours now. Just a few short hours and the showdown would begin.
The strangest part of all this was how different Er’len’s resistance fighters were. He’d never seen some of these races before, many of them far from human. A woman covered in long, grasslike fur walked by carrying a backpack. And just this morning he’d seen what looked like a hairy infant at breakfast, only to discover it was a fully grown female with whiskers, from Iddolix IV. The aliens had probably lost their homes to a vanguard attack, Er’len having taken them in and hidden them all over the city. Maybe even all over the Kollander system. They’d begun to gather here in the past two days, participating in the preparations and chattering like children celebrating a year-day.
Stefan’s revolution and Er’len’s resistance were both fighting for the right to live as they pleased. The aliens fought simply for the right to live. If the resistance and revolution fighters won this battle, the Empire would suddenly become a very different place.
The black-haired man next to Stefan had nearly filled his assignment box. He glared at his inventory list, muttering the name of the next item from under his heavy mustache. “Size-eight helmets. Five of them.” The man eyed what little space remained of his box and sighed.
Stefan’s own box was empty. He couldn’t focus on such a mundane task right now. Maybe Er’len knew how antsy he was today and had intentionally assigned him a task that didn’t matter. Ember’s arrest was part of the plan. He just hadn’t expected it to affect him like this. The thought of his Ember in that monster’s hands felt like millions of tiny needles traveling through his bloodstream.
The trial was tonight. A mandatory viewing alert was being broadcast every hour across all wristbands in sector two. If Ember was sentenced and executed, Ruben planned to transmit the event across the entire realm. But he was in for a surprise.
Their roaming security teams reported that the streets above were already packed with people leaving work early to watch Ember’s trial. Either the Empire had lifted the travel-shift law for the occasion, or they didn’t intend to enforce it. The soldiers had better things to do with the emperor on his way. The more focused on preparations the soldiers were, the less focused they would be on the crowds gathering in the streets. Exactly what the resistance wanted.
“He’d better treat her well,” Stefan growled as he dumped a pair of gloves into the box. He didn’t care if it was the right one.
The other man finally looked up. There must have been something alarming in Stefan’s expression, because the man swallowed and threw himself into his work again.
Few here trusted Stefan the flicker. They mostly just endured his presence, often ignoring him completely. That was just fine with him. He felt the weight in his pocket shift and straightened the box containing Ember’s antidote. The blue liquid vial had miraculously made it all the way here without incident. Would it survive the fighting today? Maybe he should leave it behind. But if something happened to him, it would never get to Ember. No, he’d bring it along.
The Albine boy, Bex, materialized in the shadows at the end of Stefan’s shelf unit. “What you got there?”
“Salvation,” Stefan muttered as he dumped a bag of lightbulbs into the box. Bulbs. How were those supposed to help?
Bex leaped to his feet and
walked over, kicking some of the supplies aside. “It’s a stunner, isn’t it?”
Stefan chuckled despite himself. As a boy, he’d been thrilled to own his first stunner. Now it seemed to weigh far more than what the scale said. “I have one of those too. But you’d be surprised how little weapons can do at times like these.” Er’len had finally returned his weapon to him. The sour look on her face as she handed it over had been priceless. She seemed to resent his very presence even though it was her fault he was here. And she hadn’t thanked him once for his part in their plan today.
“Because weapons cancel each other out,” Bex said, his expression serious. “One stunner can do a lot, but when both sides have them, it’s about who has the most.”
Stefan thought about Ember and how she’d hated being Commander Kane’s weapon. The resistance and Stefan had just allowed her to be captured. Didn’t that mean she was a tool in their hands now? Guilt swept through him. “Sometimes the line between people and weapons gets blurry.”
“You mean like Ember and Ruben.” He cocked his head. “They cancel each other out too.”
Both must fall before we can have peace again.
A new swell of nerves nearly choked Stefan. He turned back to his work to cover his reaction. Ember would be all right. With Captain Terrance overseeing the perimeter from orbit and Er’len covering the attack, all Ember had to do was survive until Stefan arrived to defend her. Soon Ruben’s realm would be pulled from under him like a rug.
“You love her,” Bex said. “I can tell. You have that look on your face, the same one my mom wore when she said Dad would be home soon but didn’t really know it. She just wanted him to.”
Stefan’s throat was suddenly dry. He’d heard about the boy’s parents and their brutal murder at an Empire soldier’s hand. “We all love someone, Bex. That doesn’t change when they pass on. They—” He paused. “Ember says they go to live in the stars and that they watch over us.”
Bex nodded firmly and picked up a broken wristband from the pile. “They do. I can feel them sometimes.”
If only Stefan could believe so readily. He hadn’t been home in decades. Hadn’t missed it, really. It didn’t belong to him—it belonged to a boy with an obnoxious, bragging older brother and a grandmother who adored him. Yet lately he’d felt a pull to visit again. It almost felt as if all would be right again once he stepped inside that door. He could imagine Adam striding out of his room, snapping at Stefan to get out of his way. He could picture his grandmother seeing Stefan and opening her arms for a hug. The woman knew how to hug, hanging on far longer than Stefan ever felt comfortable with. He practically had to peel himself out of her arms to go play.
He’d give anything to feel those bony, blue-veined arms around him again.
Bex tossed the wristband back onto the shelf. “I think we go wherever we can help most. My parents couldn’t protect me here, so they went to the stars, where they had more power.”
If only it were true. That meant Stefan’s grandmother was up there too, guiding him with her gentle arms just as she had in life. It meant she was watching him, encouraging him. Pleading with the stars for his protection and asking for victory. He liked the thought.
“If that’s true, you were spared for an important reason,” Stefan said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I look forward to finding out what that is.”
“I already know what yours is.”
Stefan blinked. “Oh?”
“Of course. You’re the secret weapon.” He emphasized the word secret as if savoring it.
Stefan chuckled more loudly now. This boy never ceased to lift his mood. “I’m no weapon, but thank you.”
“No, really. When Lady Flare and the emperor cancel each other out, it’s all about who has more weapons, right? You’re the edge she’ll need. That’s why you’re here.”
Realization dawned. Bex was a flicker too. Stefan had completely forgotten. “You saw my future.”
He beamed, happy Stefan was finally taking him seriously. “You can still change your mind if you want. I don’t think you should, but you still can.”
Stefan grinned. “Why would I change my mind? If I’m Ember’s secret weapon, this is exactly where I want to be.”
“Good. I thought you’d be afraid to die. Most men are.” Then he bounded off to the next pile, leaving Stefan staring after him in shock.
Chapter 22
Ember felt like she was floating, her bones lighter than air. Even her mind felt as if it had cast off gravity and turned to the sky, letting the wind take it wherever it would. She was the wind itself, the very air penetrating all living things. She was everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing. Her face felt warm as she faced the sun, welcoming its heat.
Suddenly, distant voices penetrated her peace. It cracked and shattered, sending pieces across the sky. And then there were just the voices.
Opening her eyes felt like lifting a house. A crack of light appeared. The sun? Was she still floating in the sky?
You’re quite ridiculous when you’re drugged, someone said.
The words made no sense. She was air, everywhere and—
Her eyes flew open, and she flinched at the bright light. Whiter than the sun. A spotlight. No, several of them, all pointed at her from different angles. Between them sat two cameras. They were turned off.
“She’s coming to,” a woman behind her said. “Told you she needed a higher dose.”
“Give it to her now, then,” a man said, and Ember recognized it as the one she’d heard earlier.
“I can’t just give her more, sir. That would put her over the threshold—”
“Do it. We aren’t ready yet.” Ruben. His voice sent a chill down her body. She couldn’t place him exactly, but he was somewhere beyond the whiteness accosting her eyes.
“Yes, Your Powerful Highness,” the woman said, and a sharp pain tugged at Ember’s arm. They’d drugged her.
Release me. I’ll take care of this in no time.
Ember dismissed the voice and took control of the medic. Her view shifted. The woman’s hands were frozen in the process of placing a new syringe into her IV line. Two guards stood by, watching her. This would have to look convincing.
She scanned the medic’s memories for instructions, then swapped the empty syringe for the full one, grateful the solution was clear. Then she placed the other into her pocket. The guards’ eyes flicked to the half-conscious Ember, watching for a reaction.
Now for the hard part. She ordered her own body to slump and her eyes to close. She’d never tried to move her own body while occupying a host. It took a couple of tries, but finally her own head dipped against her chest, and she looked asleep once more.
Looking relieved, the guards turned their attention elsewhere. They hadn’t been the only ones watching. Now that Ember occupied another body, she could see Ruben across the room. He was speaking with a group of men and women in identical white uniforms. His own uniform was white lined in black and gold. His gaze was just as unsettling as before, and he carried himself with the same overconfidence he always had. Maybe more, if that was possible.
They were in a warehouse of some kind, a makeshift broadcast station. By the heavy pull of gravity under her feet, she could tell they were still on Kollander. Relief flooded through her. This could still work.
Workers ran about giving orders and setting up cameras. They obviously planned to broadcast this supposed trial of hers. Ruben looked away from the group and went still, as if listening. He was probably reading the room’s occupants, ensuring all was proceeding as planned. If he saw the medic standing there watching him . . .
Ember knelt and pretended to be adjusting the laces on her—the medic’s—right shoe. Next to her, Ember’s own feet were bound, as were her wrists. A giant flexible band around her chest held her in a sitting position. Apparently it made these people feel more secure to have her bound.
She switched to her other shoe, eyeing the cameras. Ruben probably
wanted her drugged for the trial. After he outlined her detailed list of crimes, Ruben would take over her before she was in full control of her mind, forcing her to abdicate any claim she had on the throne. And once the cameras were off, he would kill her. Or maybe he would leave them on for that part too.
Still kneeling, Ember discreetly moved the medic’s hand to loosen the bindings on her own feet. If nobody noticed her here, maybe she could loosen her other bindings as well.
Ember felt eyes on her back. She went still. Ember could only shield herself, not the medic. If Ruben suspected something and decided to read her, she was out of time.
Slowly, carefully, Ember straightened and walked out the double doors. She patted the drug in her pocket as she strode purposefully down the corridor. Doors were positioned evenly along each side of the hallway, and she realized this wasn’t a warehouse. It was an abandoned school.
Ember found what she needed just around the next corner. She shoved her way inside the professor’s office and closed the door. Then, grimacing, she retrieved a clean needle from the supply bag in her pocket and stabbed the syringe into her thigh.
It worked within seconds. She pulled out just as the woman slumped to the ground. They wouldn’t find her there for a while.
Ember forced herself to keep her eyes closed as she returned to her own body. Her mind was a little clearer already. She still couldn’t see Ruben, but he wasn’t probing her. He didn’t know she was awake. She’d bought herself a little time.
Now to make her move.
Ember reached out, far beyond those in this room, stretching further, pushing, searching. Her messages had been meant to unite the people, but they’d also served a different purpose—finding her most loyal followers. Twenty-two of them, to be exact. People who had offered themselves to her cause.
She located them quickly and took control. As she did so, her own sense of self split in twenty-two different directions.
