by Nina Walker
“We don’t know yet.” Faulk shook her head, kicking the heel of the dead man. She narrowed her eyes into slits. If looks could kill, he would be dead twice. No, he would be dead ten times over.
“I just buried my wife,” Richard growled, “and we’re about to start a war. The last thing we need are renegades running around. Find out!”
The metallic smell of blood and the faint assault of charred flesh was too much. I held back a gag. I needed to get away. I rushed back to the car like the coward I was. In silence, I waited until it was time to leave.
My mind worked through all the scenarios. Who would do this? Would the Resistance really kill innocent people? It was hard to believe. Rage burned a hole through me. I needed to say something about them, to tell Faulk and Richard what I knew.
But how could I do that? The truth would reveal way too much about myself. And it would put Jessa in danger. My mother was dead. Today should’ve been a day to honor her. I rocked forward and bit into my fist, my teeth ripping at the calloused flesh. A guttural scream erupted from somewhere deep inside, an ancient, foreign sound.
It was the inhuman battle cry of suffering. And I deserved to listen.
I stormed into the prison, ignoring the startled looks the guards shot my way. Locked in the bowels of the palace, it wasn’t a typical area I frequented. But I had murder on my mind, and I needed answers.
I strode right to the door of Thomas’s cell. “Open it,” I demanded of the guard posted nearby. The hulking man shook his head for a brief moment before he caught my expression. “Now,” I growled.
He immediately did as I asked, his hand swiftly opening the lock. I hadn’t even bothered to change my clothing when we had returned home. I was still dressed from the funeral. I threw off the jacket, with its colorful ornaments, and strode inside. Only now in black and white, I had nothing to worry about.
Thomas lounged on his cot, meeting me with a lazy grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Why did you do it?” I demanded.
“Do what?” he deadpanned.
“Don’t play stupid with me.” The old man was dressed in gray prison scrubs. His facial hair was beginning to grow into a white beard. His dark eyes assessed me, obviously catching the anger that radiated off me.
“You look upset. What happened?” he sing-songed and stood.
“I asked you a question. I expect you to answer it.”
He laughed softly, the throaty sound filling the small space. “Faulk hasn’t been able to get anything out of me. Even with her blue magic cronies. What makes you think you will?”
I stalked forward, pushing him hard against the wall. It was easy: his aging body was feeble without access to magic. His eyes darted from side to side. Did he think someone would save him from me? Not a chance. They finally settled on my own dark gaze.
“I still haven’t been able to work out how you managed to evade my magic, Lucas. Your mother was always so…weak.”
I shoved him harder. “Why did you do it?”
“I already told you I had my reasons.”
“Did you work alone?”
“Ah,” he scrunched his nose and winked. “Now that’s a good question. One I won’t be answering today.”
“You’re pathetic.” I pushed him again, then stepped back. “You deserve to die for what you did to her.”
“Oh my, so upset.” He shrugged. “It was an accident.”
“You knew she was sick because of it. You knew what you were doing to her, and you never stopped. You just kept going!”
“And what’s your point? What’s done is done.”
“You’re a disgrace of a human being.”
“And you’re hiding something.” He smiled and returned to his cot, relaxing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Why are you really here?”
Why was I here? Knowing that Thomas was still alive had been bothering me, that was true. But after witnessing what I had today, and seeing my father’s reaction to it all, I had to come down here. To yell at the man? Make him feel bad for what he did? To find answers? It was pointless. He honestly didn’t care. He was supposed to be a friend of the family, but his only regret was getting caught.
“You’re going to die for what you did,” I said, moving to leave.
“Maybe,” he drawled, putting his hands behind his head. He crossed his legs and grinned at me. “Maybe not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A red alchemist is hard to come by, you know. Richard may hate what I did to Natasha, but like I said, it was an accident. And well, now that he knows about my magic, do you really think he’s going let it go to waste?”
A million nasty replies filtered through my head. The anger had each one ready to explode out of my mouth. But this man didn’t deserve another word from me. I growled in frustration and left the room, slamming the door as I went. I didn’t care what kind of magic he had. I didn’t care if he was the most powerful alchemist the world had ever seen. He was going to pay for what he did to my mother. No matter what I had to do to make it happen, that man would not see the light of day ever again.
Hours later we met in our usual place, the heat of the sun pressing down, the thick plants hiding us. I was starting to love this greenhouse and the privacy it offered. With most of the alchemists wrapped up in the news, I was confident no one would find us here.
“Are you okay?” Jessa encircled me into a frantic hug, running her hands up and down my arms. She stepped back, her eyes searching mine. She wanted something from me. Validation that I was okay, perhaps. But there was nothing left to give. I looked away.
“Someone tried to kill me today.”
“I heard. Everybody heard,” she whispered.
“They failed.”
“I can see that.” She pulled me into another hug, her face finding the crook of my neck. A familiar anticipation ran through my body.
“Thirteen people—innocent people, my people—are dead.”
Her body stilled. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I paused, raking my hands through my hair. “How committed are you to the Resistance?” She moved away from me then. I studied her face as it paled.
“You already know.”
“What if they were the ones who did this?”
“They weren’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know, okay?” She adjusted her body uncomfortably, her weight resting against the nearest tree. The lush plants surrounded us, tall and overbearing. They hid us from the world, but in that moment, they suffocated us too. She shook her head. “I just know.”
“You just know?” I laughed, disbelieving. “How is that even possible?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“None of my business?” Was she kidding? She stood rooted to the ground with her arms crossed like a petulant child, unwilling to listen to reason. “How is a resistance group that’s bent on ending the monarchy—my monarchy, I might add—not my business?”
“You were part of them!” she snapped.
“Not anymore. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I thought you wanted democracy too. I thought you weren’t okay with what Richard’s been doing.”
“I’m not okay with what he’s been doing. But I’m also not okay with murdering innocent people to remove him.”
“And as long as there is a monarchy in this country, innocent people will be murdered.” She was right about the past, and maybe about the future. Even if I somehow turned out to be an amazing king, there were no guarantees that future kings wouldn’t be just like my father. Monarchy didn’t work when it meant a small number of people got to control all the magic.
“I know that,” I said. “But you didn’t see what I saw today, Jessa. And to assassinate entire bloodlines; you think that’s okay?”
“No. Of course I don’t want you to die.”
“Jessa, think about this for a second. Som
ebody, probably your precious Resistance, ordered a hit on my father and me. On the day we buried my mother! What about that is even remotely okay with you?”
She looked away, exasperated. What didn’t she get about this? “I already said I’m not okay with that. But what I’m also saying is that you don’t know it was them. And they already told me it wasn’t them! And anyway, New Colony has loads of enemies. It could’ve easily been someone else.”
I scoffed. Maybe. Maybe it was West America, or Mexico or Canada or any other number of enemies farther away. But we stayed out of their business, and they stayed out of ours. At least, we used to. With Richard’s manipulation today, it seemed that wouldn’t be the case much longer. But that still didn’t answer the burning question. “Then how would they have come in without the help of alchemists? The only alchemist group I know of that opposes the crown is your Resistance. They are the most logical explanation, but you refuse to see it. You’re part of a group who probably just tried to kill me, and you’re standing there acting like it’s nothing!”
“It’s not like that, Lucas.”
“Then what’s it like? Please, enlighten me.”
“You know I can’t tell you anything. I’m not allowed to.”
“See? This is exactly what I’ve been trying to say to you for weeks. First, they manage to pull on my heartstrings and recruit me. They get me to do a few things for them, all the while refusing to tell me anything. So I get out, but you turned into one of them, and now you say the same things Sasha always did. Nothing! And I’m supposed to just sit here and let them kill me? Let you be a part of all that? I won’t do it!” The words flew out in a torrent of anger as I paced around the place. I couldn’t believe I had gotten myself mixed up in all that crap. There had to be another way to stop my father. A better way.
“So what are you going to do? I’m the only Resistance member here, you know. Are you going to turn me in? Torture me for information?” she asked, her mouth set in a firm line, and the distance between us widened.
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” I paused. “Of course I’m not going to turn you in.” She was the only good thing left in my life, but there would come a day when we’d have to choose the same path, or the space between us would suffocate our feelings right out of us.
I didn’t want to think about the alternative.
She tentatively stepped toward me, the patterns of shadows and light flitting over her pained expression. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what more I can say or do to make you feel better. I’m doing this for my family. For people like me, who need a way out. Richard controls me, Lucas. Or he will if I don’t succeed. It’s not about you. It’s never been about you.”
She was inches away. Her hair fell in curls, framing her face, ocean eyes filling. I wanted to reach out and wipe away the tear that rolled down her cheek, but I hesitated. “Then why do you keep meeting me? Jessa, why are you here?”
Trepidation crossed her features as she bit her lip. My gaze traveled between her mouth and eyes. A battle raged behind them, a dark ocean of fear. “Because I think… I’m pretty sure…that I’m in love with you.”
Wait, she loved me? A wave of emotion pummeled me as I searched her face for hesitation. “You love me?”
My forehead fell to hers. She nodded. I shuddered, breathing her in. We were so screwed up. How was this going to work? We couldn’t stop fighting, for one. We were opposite sides of the same fight. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted her too. Desperately. She was the only thing that kept me going, the only reason I hadn’t lost my mind completely.
“I love you, too.”
I meant it. Every word, and I would mean it again and again. I’d never said that phrase to anyone who wasn’t my mother. But the words just slipped out. So natural and heavy and real. Jessa, she was right there in front of me—all thin bones, warm skin, pumping blood and breath, and eyes, and hair, and lips…
I kissed her.
This girl, she might very well be the death of me.
7
Jessa
“I think your boyfriend is jealous,” Reed said as he pinned me to the floor. I shoved him off and shamelessly glanced around the training gym for Lucas. He wasn’t there.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said. Okay, not officially. Lucas and I weren’t supposed to be together. I still wasn’t sure how we were going to find a way around that. Sneaking about could only last for so long.
Reed busted up laughing. He held his gut as he jumped to his feet. “You two are so full of it,” he said. “If you don’t have a boyfriend, then who are you looking for?”
“Oh, shut up and mind your own business.” I laughed back.
“How’s it going over here?” Branson came over, eyeing the two of us. I grabbed my water bottle. “I see a lot of flirting and not a lot of sparring.”
I gagged, nearly drowning myself, and coughed. Reed just smiled. Reed was a flirt by nature, and it was hard not to get pulled in by his teasing. But there was nothing between us. There might have been an ounce when we first started hanging out, but once Lucas kissed me, I was a goner. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe I was naïve. But I loved that man, and there was nothing and nobody that would change how I felt. I kept going over and over the image of it in my mind. Me confessing my true feelings. His response.
He loves me too.
“Your boy is going easy on me again,” I said to Branson. As a fighter, Reed was one of the best. Actually, all these people were so far ahead of me, it wasn’t even funny. Not that I was laughing.
“You heard the woman. Do your job!” Branson huffed before stalking away to go chastise a group of unsuspecting students.
Reed came at me then. He was so much larger and stronger, so technically trained, and lethal, that I shouldn’t stand a chance. But we’d been practicing for hours every morning, and I was finally starting to have a glimmer of confidence. One of these days I’d get him! Of course, it helped that I had magic to call on.
Reed toppled me in a matter of seconds. Again! I felt for the energetic connection with the yellow stone tied to my neck. I willed another burst of alchemy to flow into my veins. Seconds later, I pressed my knees into his chest. He rocketed off. I jumped up, landing gracefully on my feet, and threw myself into a combat sequence. I’d been practicing it so much I could probably do it in my sleep.
Block, uppercut, drop, kick.
I swept my foot out, catching him behind the ankle. As he fell back, I didn’t allow a moment’s hesitation. I pounced, pushing him to the mat. For good measure, I elbowed him square in the nose. The last part was something I added. But hey, he deserved it. A twinge of guilt grasped me as blood poured from his nose. Oops.
“What was that for? You play dirty, Jessa,” he groaned, still smiling somehow. I ignored the double meaning—he was always doing that. I jumped off of him and back into a crouch.
“Nice one!” One of Reed’s friends chuckled from across the gym. It didn’t take long for all the other guardians to see what was going on in our corner. Since the shooting during Queen Natasha’s funeral, the gym had become busier than ever. War was coming, and everyone wanted to be prepared. All I could focus on was how inadequate I was to fight. A flush of embarrassment ran through my body as I squared my shoulders and stood tall. In a real fight, I would break someone’s nose if needed. Reed stood, shook his head, and then laughed as he ambled off to the greenhouse out back. A few nice green leaves, and he would be right as rain.
“How did you pin him?” Branson asked, returning.
“Using the sequence you taught me. Though, I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end and elbowed him in the nose.” I bit my lip and rocked back on my heels, trying to gauge his reaction.
The man’s normally thin lips twitched up on one side. “Good girl.”
Well, okay then…
I was getting stronger every day. As much as I hated to acknowledge it, I knew there might come a time I would have
to fight for my life.
That afternoon, I followed Jasmine toward a new classroom. It was all work these days, training morning until night. She was happy with my fighting progress, and I would continue to work out in the gym every morning. But I needed to grow my abilities in all the colors—especially since there was no telling when Faulk and her lackeys would be calling on me to complete another test. I couldn’t afford to fail again. Purple, orange, and green remained. I wasn’t nervous about green—luckily it was one of the easiest colors to manipulate.
All I knew about orange was that it was used to enhance emotion. That’s why the alchemists used it to replace alcohol—they could get a similar experience without the hangover. Made sense, and I didn’t allow myself to get too worked up about the orange test.
I was too worried about purple.
Purple was something I could pull out, but what it did was still so elusive. I needed a lot of practice with that one. Jasmine assured me that if I could handle yellow then orange would be a cakewalk. So it was purple that needed my attention. I trusted her to be right about that.
It was one of the hardest colors. Very few alchemists used it. No one expected me to pass, because people rarely did. That was why I only had to pass three of the five tests. But I wanted to kick butt in every color! The few times I’d gotten purple out, the tricky color had split into primary colors—blue and red. That was another ability of mine that was apparently unique to me. I could separate the colors, but I couldn’t do anything with them. And it made me way more exhausted than regular alchemy.
I rubbed my temples as I followed Jasmine. She knocked on a nondescript door.
A woman, not much older than me, flitted out of the room, her blond hair so light it was almost white. It was her defining feature, like it had a life of its own. It bounced around her shoulders in waves as if it was a translucent ocean. She was waifish, tall, with a way about her that didn’t feel entirely grounded. Like she was half in this world and half somewhere else. Somewhere veiled in mystery. She had a carefree go-with-the-flow energy. Flightiness. Like trying to hold sand between your fingers.
