Might have? Ha! Definitely.
Luciana is wearing a metal and mesh dress, a regal look, but also a deceptive one. I’ve worn something similar, and I know the design allows easier weapons storage, as well as more fluid range of motion.
I’ve met John once. We shook hands at my Welcome to Troika party. Though he is six-four, he appears tiny standing next to a massive steed. His shoulders are wide, his chest shaped like a barrel. John’s, not the horse’s. A thick golden beard covers the lower half of his face.
“I don’t recall you looking so awed when you met me.” Biscuit bumps into my leg. “The General isn’t as cool as me.”
“Oh, I was awed. Trust me.” When John glances in my direction, I duck. Silly. The Grid informs me I’m hidden. The ray of Light I blasted has blinded others from seeing me. So cool!
Biscuit bounds off in the opposite direction, and I give chase.
We slip past the Buckler Archer erected with zero problems. Not that I expected any. We can come and go as we please.
We trek through row after row of the tiny homes. The deeper into the city we go, the cleaner it becomes, until we reach an area without any damage at all. A forest stretches for miles, only it’s a forest like no other I’ve seen. A veritable rainbow. The trees have green trunks and blue leaves. Some of the bushes are pink, some red, some orange. Lush yellow grass carpets the ground.
Colorful birds fly from branch to branch, singing about love, love is always the answer.
According to Aunt Lina, Light is always the answer. Perhaps they are one and the same?
“By the way,” Biscuit says. “I wasn’t lying about your scent. Your butt is—”
“Hey!” I swipe up a rock and lob it at him.
He laughs as he ducks, then picks up the pace. A Stairwell looms ahead. I wonder where it leads, where we’ll—
A twig snaps behind me. Whirling, I reach for a dagger. But a whip of Light lashes out, snags around the blade and yanks. Shock. Dread. Both consume me. A shadowed figure about fifty yards away. In one hand, he holds the whip. In the other, a rock. A rock he hurls—
No. Not a rock. A grenade.
“Bomb,” I scream, diving for Biscuit to cover him with my body.
Boom!
chapter nine
“Believing is believing.”
—Troika
Killian
The moment Ten is gone, Archer seizes the reins of control, certain he’ll be obeyed.
“Everyone outside,” he orders. “Subdue anyone who makes it past the animals, and remember—killing isn’t an option. Dawn, you stay inside.” He slaps a Dazer into her hand.
As one of ten legitimate sons of the Prince of Ravens, Archer grew up issuing commands, expecting and receiving absolute compliance. At one time, even I obeyed him.
When we were friends, I envied his confidence. Then he defected to Troika, leaving me behind, proving once again that no one sticks around and “love” can’t be trusted. Now? The trait makes me see red. I grew up with nothing, had to work for every promotion, every scrap of admiration, yet still I am seen as less than nothing. He is looked upon as a savior.
I…envy him? I would rather die!
“Arming a Healer?” I sneer. “Why don’t you shoot her in the head and save her the trouble of shooting herself.”
Dawn grows pale.
Archer snaps his teeth at me, before saying to Dawn, “If anyone but the people in this room walk through the door, shoot first, ask questions later. And don’t worry. You won’t be causing anyone any kind of injury. If the prisoner threatens you, or hey, if he even breathes in your direction, shoot him, too.”
Though she’s trembling, she nods.
I swallow a curse, hating my helplessness. The urge to act, to rip those bars out of the way, bombards me. My hands twitch and my legs ready. But I remain seated, frustration mounting. I’ll succeed only in entertaining the enemy.
Archer casts me a smug glance, all game, set, match.
Rage…so much rage burns and bubbles inside me. A volcano set to erupt. But I tamp it down, and smile. A cold unveiling of my teeth. His time will come; I have only to bide mine.
“Dear ladies, genitalmen and assorted faunae of Troika,” I say, my tone smug enough to annoy, well, anyone.
“Did you say genitalmen?” Archer demands.
“Oh, good. Your ears are working.” I continue just as breezily. “If you Daze me, you Daze Ten. Have you already forgotten we’re bonded, and what happens to one happens to both?” As I speak, I rub at the brand on my wrist. The horse Tenley spent a good few seconds staring at.
She bears a similar mark. Meaning we have matching tattoos. Stab me, please. I must have convinced myself we’d last forever. Idiot. Nothing lasts forever. Not even truth, apparently. If Tenley is right and Fusion is a lie, my mother is trapped in Many Ends. My father, too. But who cares? My Secondking lied to me…like I once lied to so many others.
Sow and reap, as Tenley likes to say.
If she’s right about one thing, there’s a good chance she’s right about the other. Many Ends could be connected to Myriad…and I have value. I’m strong, capable and brave. I’m worth something.
Her words still ring inside my head. To her, I mean something.
Focus on what matters. Right. How can I support the realm, if that’s the case?
How can I not?
No realm, no future.
When Archer scowls at me, his little dog goes crazy, barking and growling. Finally she tells me the many ways she’s going to hurt me if I continue to upset her human. Disembowelment is at the top of her list.
Archer cracks a smile, and the dog goes quiet. Danger averted.
“You won’t prick my temper today,” he informs me. “I learned a lot in the Rest. Namely the extent of your betrayal. You set me up. You are the reason I died in battle.”
Am I? So badly do I want to remember, but the shadows clouding my memory are rooted deep. “What a neat trick, cooling the fire of your rage. Please. Teach me how to be dead inside, oh, wise one.”
A pause. A sad smile. “Perhaps one day you’ll turn your mess into a message.” Dismissing me, he skids his gaze over the others. “All right. Get to work.”
Everyone rushes to obey him without a single protest, the animals following. I’m envious. I’d love a pet of my own. Someone to look at me the way the dogs look at Tenley and Archer.
Speaking of, does Tenley find the resurrected TL attractive?
My hands fist, even though the answer doesn’t matter. I’m not going to think about her. I don’t like the way I feel when I do, as if I’m trapped in a car, careening toward another, unable to stop the collision.
A distant boom sounds. The house shakes, and the furniture rattles.
“They’re setting off bombs?” I demand, only to wince. My head feels as if it’s been split in half by a hammer. Sharp pains erupt in my limbs. My stomach churns, threatening to heave. Gashes appear on my arms and torso, Lifeblood dripping. Understanding dawns, followed by horror. “Your people are attacking Ten.” The words lash from me, an accusation as much as a demand something be done.
“No. They…” The color drains from Archer’s cheeks, and he sways. This isn’t the first time his body has betrayed him today. Sweat pops up on his brow, and he wipes it away with a shaky hand. “They would never risk hurting her or the realm.”
“So what was that?” I demand. Worry screams: Something terrible. “Why am I covered in wounds when I never moved an inch?”
“I don’t… I can’t…”
“Are you feeling okay?” Dawn flattens her palm against Archer’s forehead to gauge his temperature.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I mutter, my tone dry.
“You’re overheated,” she continues, as if I haven’t spoken.
“I’ll be okay.” Archer draws in a breath, holds, and exhales. “I just need a moment to catch my breath.”
“No concern for Ten?” I spread my still-bleeding arms. “Yo
u are wonderful friends. The best.”
“At the moment, there’s nothing I can do for Ten,” Dawn snaps at me. Well, well. The mouse can pretend to be a lion. “Besides. You are well enough to cause trouble, which means she is well enough. I must focus my efforts where they matter.”
“Doesn’t look like your efforts matter much to Archer, either.” His tremors are worsening by the second. This keeps up, and he’ll soon drop like a condemned house. “Not that you’ve done anything but talk.”
Pain and frustration have burned away any filter I might have had.
Hurt glimmers in her eyes. What, does she expect me to apologize for speaking the truth?
I need to leave, and I need to leave now. Someone has to look out for Ten. My life depends on it!
If I can lure Archer closer, I can expedite his nap and steal his weapons. Won’t get me out of the cage, but at least I’ll be prepared when I do break free.
Escape, weaken Troika, return to Myriad with Tenley.
Put the needs of others before yourself.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to halt an irritated verbal response. Two voices, both mine. Dark versus Light. Light can shove off. I’ll put the needs of others before myself never. Been there, done that, suffered for it.
“Anyone with half a brain could tell Archer needs water. He just rose from the dead. Maybe he’s, I don’t know, dehydrated.” Why does my throat feel raw, like I swallowed acid? “While you’re at it, you should probably get yourself a glass, too. Unless you want to pass out?”
Dawn glares at me, and I flash her my coldest grin. Then I blink—
Suddenly I’m running through a thick veil of black smoke. Even as I cough, it hurts. I wrap a strip of cloth around the lower half of my face. It helps, but not much. As I scale down a pile of rubble, hunks of metal cut my legs, making me wince. The dog leads the way. He glances over his shoulder to ensure I haven’t fallen too far behind.
Wait. I’m seeing the world through Tenley’s eyes?
My eyelids snap open, and once again I’m standing inside the cage. The smoke is gone, though the air in the house now feels a hundred times hotter.
Archer has regained his bearings. He’s standing in front of the bars, just as I hoped, though I never heard him move. The realization chafes. Still, I don’t strike out. Yet. My concern for Tenley is back, and magnified.
“You need to understand something,” Archer says. “That girl is one of a kind. She—”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” I need to return to her. The moment I close my eyes, I’m connected to her once again. The smoke is back, and it’s thicker, as if another bomb has been detonated.
Biscuit calls, “Hurry! He’s going to catch us.”
He? Who is chasing them?
Boom!
Directly behind me—her—something explodes. The ground rocks, and debris shifts. Directly beneath Tenley’s feet, the pile slides in different directions. She plummets with a gasp. Impact jars her, emptying her lungs. I know, because I’m struggling to breathe, as well. Our minds are dizzy, our vision hazy as Lifeblood drip, drip, drips.
Panic settles in my bones, setting my marrow aflame. Must save her—I mean me. Must save me. She could be harmed worse, which means I could be harmed worse.
I don’t want her—us—harmed.
A whimper draws her attention. One of Biscuit’s legs is trapped underneath a fat marble slab. She crawls toward him, uncaring when a shard of glass slices her thigh.
Her biceps tremble as she fights to lift the slab.
“Go,” the dog tells her. “I can’t walk. There’s no need for us both to die.”
“No! I’m not going anywhere without you. Here.” She yanks the vial of manna from her neck. “Drink—”
She goes still. A man with bright red curls ascends the pile, coming into view. She gasps, a name wafting over our bond. —Nico.—
Information follows the voice. Nico and Tenley died on the same day. Firstdeath. She considered him a good guy. They’ve had little interaction, and nothing turbulent. The One Who Shall Not Be Named must have considered him a good guy, too, because he found and locked up all the Myriadian spies, and Nico wasn’t among them.
Ambrosine hates his brother so much, he doesn’t allow his people to speak the name.
“Why are you doing this?” she demands. “How are you doing it?”
He motions to the hawk soaring overhead. “My guardian tracked you, figured out where you were heading and told me where to wait. Of course, he had no idea what I planned… Or maybe he did, and expected me to change my mind. Spoiler alert. I’m not going to change my mind.”
Biscuit growls at Nico and then snarls at the bird, a promise of vengeance.
—His reasons do no’ matter. End him, end the danger to your life.— I shove the command along our bond, my only means of supplying aid.
She gasps, and I know she’s heard me. As stealthily as possible, she releases the vial of manna and reaches for a small, sharp shard of glass. Good girl. Going for her swords would be too obvious.
Nico says, “After you attacked Victor, he came to me, admitted his feelings for me. We were going to be together— until he had to defect. Because of you.”
Another tide of information. When Victor Prince reached the Age of Accountability, he made covenant with Troika in order to spy for his father and ultimately lead the revolution to destroy the realm from the inside out. I’d had no idea, until too late.
Too late—for what? I scour my mind, but the shadows maintain a firm hold on the memory.
“Victor,” she spits at the redhead. “He’s a liar and a user.”
“No!” Spittle sprays from the corners of Nico’s mouth. “Troika voided his contract, allowing him to return to Myriad. I wanted to go with him, but I was denied. To be with him, I’ll have to go to court.”
—Throw the shard.—
She doesn’t. She says, “He only loves himself, Nico.” Her tone is soft, gentle. “He used you, just like he used Kayla. Probably many others.”
“No. He loves me.” He pulls a minigrenade from the pouch anchored to his waist. His hawk squawks in what sounds like protest. Clearly he—she—doesn’t want the Laborer to murder an innocent girl. Good bird. “To void my contract, I must do as Victor did.”
His message is clear. Victor tried to kill her, and Nico plans to finish the job. My rage returns, redoubles, a fever boiling in my blood, and this time, there’s no tamping it down.
—Throw the shard. Now!— The moment Nico pulls the pin, all hope will be lost. Both Tenley and I will die.
Not ready… Haven’t truly lived.
A deluge of fury, fear and determination vibrates along the Grid, and for a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to try to talk some “sense” into herself and then the boy. Foolish girl. There’s no time. When death comes for you, you don’t try to reason with him. You fight hard, and you fight fast.
With a cry from the depths of her soul, she swings out her arm, hurling the shard. Her aim is true. The tip slices through Nico’s neck, skin splitting open, Lifeblood spurting out.
His eyes widen with shock. He struggles to breathe as he reaches for the wound he will never be able to close. His knees give out, and he topples. The grenade falls from his grip.
The hawk swoops down to catch the grenade before it hits the ground.
Tenley rushes forward, too, her heart a riotous storm. When she realizes the hawk succeeded, she stills, unsure what to do, but the bird gently sets the weapon in her palm.
She expels a sigh of relief. Then she kneels beside Nico and whispers, “I’m sorry.” Hands trembling, she sets the grenade aside, pushes the man to his back, and rips a vial of manna from his neck. “It didn’t have to be the way. I wished you’d listened to me.”
—What’re you doin’? Doona waste yer manna on him. You might need—Argh!—
The foolish lass dispenses much-needed liquid directly into Nico’s wound, wasting every precious drop. Because it
’s too late. He breathes his last as Second-death claims him.
Her shoulders roll in, and her head bows.
Now she mourns for him? I ground my teeth. Mourns the loss of the man who tried to kill her. How can her heart be so…soft? I’d like to kill the male all over again.
Perhaps she absorbs my determination through the bond. She straightens, and returns to Biscuit, swiping up the extra vial of manna along the way. The dog watches her with dark eyes filled with adoration.
She takes a drink. Only a sip, not nearly enough, and only for the boost of strength needed to push and shove the slab from Biscuit’s leg.
The moment he’s free, she empties the remaining liquid down his throat.
I loathe being a voice in her head, unable to force her movements, to ensure she does what’s necessary to ensure her own survival. How can she help an enemy at a time like this? How can she take so little for herself when a battle looms, and give so much to a dog?
Frustration burns as deeply as my rage. Does she not understand weakness is her enemy? With every drop of Lifeblood she loses, failure moves from a possibility to a guarantee.
Part of me wants to shake her, and rattle her brain against her skull. Come on, help yourself. If she won’t do it, I’ll do it for her. Somehow, some way. She must be protected, whatever the cost. She needs me, and I think… I think I need her.
In the back of my mind, a memory arises. Just after our bond, she looked at me with absolute, utter acceptance. To her, I was family.
I’d never really had a family. The something from before…the something I couldn’t identify but suspected was longing—it strikes again, pricking my hollow heart.
For the first time, that hollowness bothers me.
Like the big bad wolf, I huff and I puff with indignation. Family is an illusion. Never forget. Even if I forsook my realm to be with this girl, giving up my home, my job and the accolades I’ve earned in favor of the rancor I’ll receive from Troikans, one day Tenley will leave me.
Everlife (An Everlife Novel) Page 13
