by Natalie Grey
Well, she should be.
“And we got onto that ship, and he barricaded himself in the air lock. We were coming into port and there was no way to override the systems. If he got off the ship, we weren’t going to find him again, not for years. And his operations would keep going, and more slaves would get taken every year. There were seven thousand of them on that ship alone. And so you know what we did?”
She was shaking her head, but she did know. She knew instinctively.
“I said I wouldn’t do it,” Cade said, his voice shaking. “I told them it wasn’t worth it. And Talon asked what I’d say to the people who got taken on the next raid, or the next. If those tens of thousands of lives were worth giving up to do the right thing.”
“You…”
“I blew the ship.” He stared at her. “I set the charges. I knew how to make it suck the air out. We blew the whole goddamned ship, and we took part of a space station with us.”
“You survived,” she whispered.
“We had space suits. No one else on that ship did.”
She turned away, and he almost welcomed it. It was over. Finally, it was over. She would leave, and all would be as it should be. She should go. She hadn’t known the truth. He’d told her to leave Ellian, hadn’t he?
She looked down at the ground, and then over to him.
“You made your vow. You chose your path.”
“And it will never be enough.” It was almost a question. Strange to say, he hoped she would walk away. She was looking at him like she would strip it all away, and he wanted…
“How long are you going to live on the bridge of that ship?” Aryn asked him finally. She was looking at the horizon, her eyes clear.
He understood the question, and rejected it.
“You weren’t there.”
“And you weren’t here, but you understand it. You accepted it when I explained what I did. You did what you did because there was room for doubt. That’s why. And maybe you fucked up, and maybe you didn’t. But there’s no going back. You can only go forward, and choose to do the right thing now. Your actions are the only place in this world that you’ll find absolution. Just like coming back and fighting is the only way I can make it right that I trusted Ellian.”
There was a long silence. He looked toward the launch pad, where panic was going up as the ships came in. Ellian’s ships. Ellian’s troops.
“Then we fight,” he said quietly.
“We fight,” she agreed, and there was a strange finality in her words. “And Ellian….”
“Yes?”
“Needs to die.” She looked back to the launch pad, and up to the Warlord’s palace, and then she looked down. Slowly, he saw her face twist, and tears crept down her cheeks.
“Aryn, what is it?” Could she truly be grieving this man?
She only pulled him down for a kiss, so desperate that their teeth banged together. Her arms were wound around his neck, her tears catching on his face. She kissed him until they were both breathless, and then she clenched her fingers in his shirt.
“We have to tell them,” she said simply. “If Ellian’s moving, we need to go now.”
“Yes.” He led her back into the tunnel and she stood aside to let him go first, knowing he would remember the path. He ran, looking once to make sure she was keeping up with him and then increasing the pace, anticipation pounding in his blood. He needed to get to Talon. They had to move.
He pounded down the steps.
“Ellian’s troops are coming in. We have to get to the palace.”
The Dragons burst into motion, Nyx arming herself with her customary speed, Talon beckoning Cade to the map.
“We’re going in here, along the side. Soras is going to hold back, I’m sure of it, he doesn’t direct troops from inside the maneuvers, never has. He’s going to….” He paused.
“What?” Cade looked over at him.
“Where’s Aryn?” Talon asked him.
“She’s…” Cade looked around the bunker. “She came back with me.”
“No.” Talon looked at him. “She didn’t.”
Cade’s heart dropped out of his chest.
“Where’s Ellian?”
“We picked up chatter that he was still at the palace.”
In his mind’s eye, Cade watched the turn of her head: first to the troop carriers, than to the palace, and back to him. The tears in her eyes. The kiss.
“No,” he whispered.
“Williams, where is she?”
“She’s gone to assassinate Ellian,” Cade said dully. “Oh, my God.”
28
She had to move fast. Aryn wove between the buildings, taking shelter in familiar doorways and dodging the trudge of the ever-present patrols. She knew these streets as only a native could, but she had no idea how long it would be until Cade discovered she was missing. And where Talon could handily hold her back from leaving, he might not have as good a chance with another Dragon.
She needed a vehicle, and that meant stealing one. With a familiar thrum in her veins, and the nausea that always came with resistance operations, she peered carefully into a courtyard she knew held military vehicles. There were two there, but also three patrols, smoking in the early morning light. Steaming cups of coffee sat next to them, and Aryn hissed with disappointment. At the end of a shift change, in the darkness, she might have slipped past them or pretended to be one of their own. Now, her face dirtied and her clothes out of regulation, there was no chance of her passing as one of the Warlord’s mercenaries.
As another patrol rounded the corner behind her, Aryn wedged herself into the alley, pressing up against the wall. The patrol marched past with laughter, their well-muscled frames and energetic gait showing, as it always did, just how easy life was for them. The Warlord, cunning, had offered the strongest men and women well paying jobs in other districts, so that they wouldn’t have to see their own—and each year, some took him up on it.
The citizens took the only vengeance they could, refusing to speak their names. They were gone. They had never been.
Her gaze fell on a pile of gear, waiting to be carried into the courtyard or taken off for maintenance, she couldn’t tell which. There were no weapons—the Warlord’s people were punished harshly for carelessness—but there was a radio. Aryn clipped it to her belt and put in the earpiece, tuning to the frequency Talon had used. She would at least know what they were up to.
Meanwhile, she had to find some way to the city—and the palace. She looked around herself, racking her brain as she thought over the layout of the district. Document offices, barracks, granaries, housing blocks…
The service train. Of course. Aryn looked around, trying to remember how long it had been since the last patrol, and then took off, darting across the main boulevard and between two of the big housing units. She splashed down the alleyway, wrinkling her nose at the smell, and stopped to listen around a corner.
Nothing. She peeked out at the heavy metal doors that were the main entrance to the service train. Everything came here from the city: grain, clothes, pick-axes, what little medicine they had. Cleverly, the Warlord had moved the supply lines underground so that they couldn’t be easily sabotaged. But if she could just get into those tunnels, she would have a straight shot for the five kilometers into the city, and she would come out not far from the palace.
Aryn waited, bouncing up and down on her toes in impatience, until a crew of soldiers marched into view, escorting a heavy cart of something. They walked up to the doors, and one of them reached down to flip up a metal panel set into the paving stones. A moment later, the doors parted and the four of them heaved the cart up into the darkness.
She watched, listening to the clank of machinery inside the shadowed building, and then drew back as the soldiers came out again, replacing the doors with another tap on whatever buttons were there. Aryn watched them go, creeping forward down the next alleyway, and then looked to make sure they were gone—and that no one watched the do
or. At last, realizing that if there were cameras, they had surely already seen her, she made her way to the tiny metal casing and flipped it open. Three identical buttons winked up at her, and she swore.
She pressed the middle one first, and was immediately rewarded by the shriek of alarms. Cursing, she pressed the first, and then the third. The doors, far from locking, began to slide open, and Aryn sprinted to get into the tunnel.
The cart still waited there, loaded with various equipment, and she looked around herself in panic. Soldiers would be coming, and—
There was the button to set the cart in motion. Praying there was nothing coming up the track the other way, Aryn slammed her hand down on the button and ran for the cart, barely tumbling into it before it lurched into motion. With a muffled oath, she curled into a ball as the cart hurtled down the track, immediately feeling ill with the swaying of the cart.
What was she doing? This was a terrible plan. In fact, it hardly merited the word “plan.”
But it was the only idea she had. Ellian was the one with the army, and she knew beyond a doubt that whatever his intentions to the Warlord, he meant no good to the people of Ymir. This was no crusade for justice. It was a search for the one thing Ellian wanted above all: power. And he would crush the people of Ymir if they stood in his way.
“Aryn.” The voice in her ear made her jump. It was full of fear. “Where are you?”
Aryn rolled onto her back, clenching her hands over her chest to keep from pushing the button and responding. He mustn’t know. She mustn’t tell him until there was no chance of him following. He didn’t know she had a radio. He didn’t know. He couldn’t be sure she was listening to him.
“Aryn.” The voice was breaking. “Please come back. If you’re listening to this…”
Aryn yanked out the earpiece and took a shuddering breath, watching the roof of the tunnel rush past in the faint light of the track lights. She could not listen to this, or she would speak to him—and if she spoke to him, she was very sure that he would persuade her to come back. She knew he could do it. He would give her rational reasons to let them all handle it, and she would forget the only truth that mattered: Ellian wanted Cade dead, and the second Cade set foot in the palace, there would be people waiting for him. Aryn did not believe for a moment that Ellian would let the chance for revenge go by.
She was not fool enough to think he’d let her live. Not forever, anyway. But she didn’t need forever, did she? And no one, other than her, could lure him out. She could do it. Even hating her, even despising her betrayal, he would let her into his presence, if only so that he could tell her his plan before he tried to kill her. She had an opening.
A voice buzzed in the earpiece and she clenched her hand tighter around it, resolute. The cart was slowing, and Aryn peeked her head up over the edge to see who might be waiting.
No one, thank God. Most of the deliveries must take place at night. Aryn looked behind herself to make sure that no one was following her, and only just thought to brace herself before the cart slammed to a halt. Groaning, she hauled herself over the edge and jumped for the platform, wavering as she reached it. It had been so long since she slept—not the drugged sleep Talon had given her, but actual rest, in a bed.
Had it been two days?
Not important.
Aryn looked around herself, eyes adjusted to the dim light, and spotted a door along one wall. She crept over to it to cup her hands and listen. Voices. Holding her breath, she backed away to the big double doors. How did one open them from the inside? She felt along the wall until she found a panel, and squinted to see the buttons.
OPEN.
The doors shuddered into motion and Aryn pressed herself into the shadows, watching. No one in her line of sight to the right. She crept forward. No one to the center… She craned her head out. No one else patrolling.
In fact, this did not look like a place anyone ever patrolled. She blinked at the clean cobblestones. There were flowers in baskets that hung from the front of the windows, which seemed strange, as no one in the houses would see them. People in the city really were as backward as her mother told her they were. Aryn shook her head and looked around herself at the pretty, pleasant streets, then set off as quickly as she dared, ponytail swinging with her gait. She brushed at her face and hands, trying to get the dirt off. The clothes they’d found for her in the resistance were dock workers’ uniforms, neat enough, and Aryn hoped to be able to convince someone that she was making a delivery to one of the governors’ houses. Hopefully Gerine Tark was still in charge of Io, or she’d be found out quite quickly.
The palace was visible from almost anywhere in the city, and Aryn made her way toward it in as roundabout a path as she dared. She was beginning to dislike how empty this place was. It was as if none of it was quite real…
Or as if the Warlord had realized there were troops landing that weren’t his. Aryn quickened her pace, jogging between buildings, making for the high palace walls. The gardens stretched out far ahead of the palace, no doubt offering a clear line of sight from any of a number of guard towers, and it occurred to her with a jolt that she might alert the guards of a plan before Talon had a chance to make his move. If they were alerted…
She stopped, frowning, and then slipped the radio earpiece back into place.
“Aryn?” It was Samara’s voice this time.
“Hi.” Her voice was quiet.
“Aryn? Oh, my God, thank God.” Samara gave a laugh. “Where are you?”
“I’m—” Aryn broke off as there was a rustle.
“Aryn?” Cade’s voice. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I am.” For the time being.
“Where are you?”
She hesitated. “At the palace.”
“Don’t do this.” His voice was low. “We have a plan to get in there, no matter what Ellian does.”
“But as soon as the Warlord’s taken out, you’ll still have to deal with him,” Aryn pointed out. “And he has thousands of troops here already, doesn’t he? The longer we wait, the more chance that he’ll pull off his plan. Do you know where he is?”
“No,” Cade admitted.
“And he knows you’re here. He knows there’s at least one Dragon, and he may know about the rest of them, too. Listen to me, Cade, he’s never going to take you on face to face. He’s going to kill you as soon as you arrive.”
“I’ve faced down men like Ellian before.” His voice was dry.
She gave a half-laugh. It wasn’t funny, and yet, somehow it was—just a little.
“It’s never been personal before,” she pointed out. “Trust me, Ellian will have planned for you getting out of the mines. He’s made himself our enemy just as much as the Warlord. And if anyone can take him out, it’s me.”
“He will kill you,” Cade said, his voice low and urgent. “Don’t do this. Aryn, don’t—”
“Cade?”
“Yes?”
“I love you. I love you too much to let you face him.” She paused. “I love you too much to make you break your vow again.”
She cut the line before he could respond. She meant to switch the channel, but a sob caught her unawares and she stumbled into an alleyway and slid down the wall, hand over her mouth. She wasn’t going to see him again. There weren’t any words beyond I love you, and they weren’t enough. Thank you for helping me, maybe. Thank you for keeping my secrets. Thank you for loving me. With Ellian, she’d been adored, petted, dressed in fine clothes…and she still would have died alone if not for Cade.
Oh, she might have come back, in the end—even without him. She might have joined the resistance again. But for a brief, glorious few weeks, she had come alive.
She hadn’t expected she would ever find that.
Clenching her hands, Aryn took several deep breaths to calm herself. She picked up the radio and, before she could stop herself, turned the dials to the frequency she knew Ellian used with Colin and James.
“Ellian?” Her
voice was soft. She swallowed. “I’m outside the palace. I got away. Please come find me.”
29
“Ellian? I’m outside the palace. I got away. Please come find me.”
Ellian paused. He looked over at the radio, and caught sight of Colin’s pale face. The man didn’t seem to know what to do.
“Sir, what should we—”
“Go get her,” Ellian said, his voice as soft as silk. “What else would we do, Colin? She’s my wife.”
“But I….” Colin trailed off in the face of Ellian’s implacable gaze. He clearly wanted to say that Ellian hadn’t made any effort to get Aryn back from the Warlord. He wanted to mention what Ellian had told Cade.
He wasn’t brave enough.
Good.
“I’ll go get her,” he said. He picked up the radio and practically fled the room. Ellian could hear him muttering into the radio.
He smiled to himself as he looked around. He liked this palace. He always had—though the arms dealer in him shuddered at what a nightmare it was defensively.
That would work in his favor for now.
He tapped his comm unit. “Are the troops in place?”
“Yes, sir.” The commander’s voice was calm. “We’re ready to go at any time.”
“Soon,” Ellian said. No more than that; she did not need to know more than that.
He had one more thing to do before he authorized the attack.
“They’re everywhere, sir.” The guard looked terrified. “We’ve called for reinforcements from Kell District, but they’re…. No one’s responded.”
The Warlord stared at the satellite images in silence: the ship arriving yesterday, with the curve of the planet in the background. The soldiers outside the walls of the districts.
“Thank you,” he said finally, to the soldier. He looked up. “You may go.”
“Sir….” The man stared at him.
“Ellian Pallas has troops,” the Warlord said simply, “but so do we. There is no reason to worry, is there?”
