by Ann Denton
“I’m so sorry …” she’d whispered. “They’re gone. Your parents—”
Lowe stared at Stelle, standing in front of him. Solemn, serious, her hands clasped in front of her.
“You can’t mean—”
“You know I added faces to the memory wall. You know I hugged the people who wouldn’t come back. You know it’s true.”
Lowe’s mind spun like a lathe, taking memories he had and shaping them into something new. Something twisted. Something sad. This brilliant girl, this girl he’d loved. His first real friend. Slavery must have broken her.
He stared at Stelle, calmly, carefully choosing his words. “I believe you believe it’s true.”
Her eyes widened. Clearly, she hadn’t expected that response. Not from her little shadow. He saw defensiveness cloud her eyes. “I can prove it!”
But he just shook his head sadly. “I have to go.”
He walked out without a backward glance. I have to tell Tier. This mission is dead.
Chapter Thirty-Two
He’d spent all day on the bottom floor of the Center. Stelle’s revelation weighed heavy on his mind. They couldn’t trust her. He shoved down regret. He had to be stoic to meet with Tier. He didn’t have time to mourn his old friend.
But Tier had been in meetings for hours, and though the Ancient had passed him in the hall moving from room to room, the swarm of Kreis around him made it impossible for them to talk.
It was no one’s fault, but it made Lowe’s anxiety grow. How could the President have missed that? How come they hadn’t screened her better? They’d been handing over info to a deluded woman for months. He ran his hands through his hair. We’re lucky the massacre at Bara’s was the only one. That she hasn’t caused worse. We were mucking blind.
That thought led Lowe’s mind through a series of rapid images, making connections he didn’t understand, until a sweet revelation came to him. Blind. If he and Mala were blind … it didn’t seem to be kissing that was their issue, it was when she looked up at him afterward. Eye contact. Does she need eye contact to melt?
Euphoria rushed over him. One mission might be dead, but maybe he could salvage the other. Maybe he could help Mala. Maybe I can find a way to kiss her … he shook his head. Help her control her melts, idiot. Kissing is not your priority. But he couldn’t help grinning. It would be an awesome side effect.
The Ancients’ voices droned on through the door. After several more hours, Lowe gave up. He strode away, determined to find Mala.
He cornered Mala in the cafeteria, spotting her brown locks from across the room. When he’d walked up, she’d spilt water all over herself, and it had been all he could do to contain his grin.
Sweet, awkward Mala. Her blush had made him want to bend forward and kiss her right then. But he restrained himself. Just in case his theory was wrong.
He pulled her out of the cafeteria to show her. Slid a random rag he’d stolen from the kitchen over her eyes.
“A rag?” Mala looked up at him.
“Close your eyes.” He couldn’t wait.
“Wait. I need to tell you—”
“In a minute.” He interrupted Mala to turn her around and put the blindfold on. “Keep your eyes closed.” He wasn’t sure how well the blindfold would work.
“Lowe, I have a problem.”
“I’ve been waiting all day to show you, Mala. Just two seconds.” He spun Mala back around to face him. Even with her eyes covered, he could see adorable confusion cross her face.
“It’s a blindfold.”
“Okay.”
“Now I can kiss you without meltdowns. It’s perfect!” He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Magic. If the Erlenders had said Mala’s kiss was magic, Lowe would have believed them. It was the only magic he thought he’d ever believe in. Mala was pure, unadulterated sunshine.
Lowe pulled back. And neither of them melted. A smile slid over his face. I did it. Eye contact.
But instead of celebrating, Mala pulled away. She left the blindfold on. Her voice was flat as she said, “Lowe, Ein figured out my melts last night. He figured out what starts them and he figured out a way for me to control who I melt into. Kind of.”
Oh. His bubble of pride at his discovery burst. Mucking Ein. A damn genius is only a night faster. But, does it matter? You still get to kiss her, muckhead. He decided to focus on the positive.
“That’s great! That’s awesome! So we don’t need this thing!” Lowe pulled off the blindfold and kissed Mala again. But when he opened his eyes and met hers …
“I though you said …” Lowe’s fourteen-year-old voice was scratchy.
Mala fiddled with her red hair. Stelle’s red hair. They had both melted down. She sighed. “Ein figured it out. Emphasis on HE forcefully figured it out. But the only way I can control who I melt into … is if he kisses me.”
Those words were a battering ram to Lowe’s chest. He stood, frozen. “I see.” His face was blank, but a million different thoughts flew through his mind. Like mosquitos. Biting him. Making him itch. Making him wonder about Mala. I took it for granted that her smiles were for me. I assumed the Recruiter bond was—
Mala leaned up on her tiptoes, hand on his chest. She stared earnestly into his eyes. “Lowe, I did NOT kiss him. He just shoved his face into mine and said he knew what would happen. And he was right. I hate it. But he was.”
“Where does that leave us?” The pause between his question and her answer seemed like an eternity. Every muscle in his body was tense. And he had no idea why. But everything seemed to hinge on her answer. Like he was about to fall off a cliff.
Mala grabbed his hand in hers, twining their fingers together. “With a blindfold and a couple months of pent-up frustration to release.”
Relief washed over him. But jealousy soon took its place. He listened as Mala explained Ein’s theory. About how she melted based on other people’s emotions, not her own.
That would explain Stelle, he thought bitterly. All the worry and fear made the redhead a constant in the back of his mind. And so Mala melting into her suddenly made sense.
But if it was about how others felt … that meant Ein felt something. Something for Mala. And Lowe had to fight a new meltdown as rage flooded his mind. He had to hold himself back when Ein suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway with a rag-tag group of Typical men behind him, announcing that he needed Mala to kiss an entire lineup of guys. All to test the muckhead’s theory.
Lowe wasn’t even sure of what he said. He could hardly process the world around him, he was so focused on caging his fury. Do not melt down. And so he stood there like a statue and watched, as Mala kissed guy after guy, melting after each kiss. Unable to control her melts; she transformed into each guy’s girlfriend or ex or—to the embarrassment of some—their crush.
He’d been tortured before. But he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced anything so painful.
The only thing that kept him standing was the thought that Mala needed his support. She didn’t choose this. I brought her here. I have to help her figure out her melts. From the look on her face, she hated each of these kisses as much as he did. So that was something. But Ein. It had to be Ein. Lowe couldn’t even look at him. He wanted to pummel the bottom-feeding genius.
It would have been easier if Ein had actually hated her, as Mala claimed he did, but Lowe could see it in his eyes, the dull twinkle of something between love and lust.
A hand clamped down on Lowe’s shoulder, derailing his brooding train of thought. He jumped.
“Sir,” said the Typical, a man with dark hair that Lowe didn’t recognize. He was breathing hard. “It’s the Erlenders,” he gasped. “They just stole four boats.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago. Eight Senebals killed. Verloren guard is evacuating their territory. Firefight is too rough. Tier’s getting together a meeting right now to discuss our response.”
“Response?”
“Classified, sir.”
> “Where’s the meeting?”
“Combat four.”
Lowe strode away from one nightmare scene. He didn’t look back at Mala or Ein, glad to escape the torture. Unfortunately, he walked right into a new nightmare.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lowe followed the Typical to combat room four. It had lower ceilings than most other rooms, darker walls, and dimmer lights. Most of the light came through the massive window on the far wall, which was near the surface of the lake.
The long table was ringed with Ancients and Recruiters and trainers. The sight of the trainers put Lowe on edge. Trainers weren’t usually privy to meetings like this. Something was up.
Those with the highest clearance sat in metal folding chairs around the table, hands folded or in their laps. The rest stood behind them, crowding against the walls, knocking shoulders. Fear and anger were written plainly across the faces of all present. Talk was quiet, the hushed murmuring of a funeral procession.
Lowe took a seat—one of only three remaining—next to Verrukter, near the window. The slanting light accentuated a large purple splotch on Verrukter’s jaw. Lowe wondered if Mala had given it to him.
“So,” said Verrukter, flashing Lowe an infuriatingly smug smile. “I hear Ein’s got the magic touch.”
Lowe’s throat tightened. “Now is not the time.”
“What, I thought you’d be happy,” teased Verrukter. “Your girl’s got control! Granted, only when she’s mushing faces with the smartest man the Center’s ever seen … is it true Ein’s gonna make her kiss everybody to make sure he’s not the only one that can—”
“Now is not the time,” Lowe hissed.
Verrukter held up his hands in mock surrender, still smiling. “Why? I thought you didn’t know if she was the one? So what’s it matter?”
Lowe glared at him. “I just watched her kiss about fifteen different guys. Do you want to face me right now?”
Verrukter put up his hands. “Okay. This is me backing down. Neid would kill me if I let you hurt my pretty face any more.”
Lowe just turned a stony face forward.
“Dude, that was an opening.”
Lowe bit out. “Not asking.”
“Well, I’m telling. She said yes! Once today’s out of the way, I’m gonna do it. Hand in my notice. Officially. I’m done. She’ll give hers, though that’s really just a formality since they’d never use her.”
“Congratulations,” Lowe ground out.
Verrukter huffed. “You could at least pretend to be happy, man.”
Lowe turned and stared. “I am happy for you. But I’m so damn angry right now that I can’t flipping see straight and I’d prefer not to melt down and get myself sent to the brig today. Because if I do that’s just another day that muck-headed, pig-brained bastard can kiss my girl.”
Verrukter smiled and clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”
“Stop being so damn happy.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Then change the subject.”
“Ok, do you want the good news or the bad news?”
Lowe frowned. “There’s good news?”
“Probably not, but we can dream. You hear what happened?”
“Just told me there was an attack.”
“Not an attack,” Verrukter, held up four fingers. “Four attacks. Four separate Erlender raids.”
“Four? At once?”
Verrukter nodded. “Yep. Like they were mucking coordinating or something. Never seen anything like it. It’s almost like they’re thinking.” He grinned.
Lowe scowled. “Where? When?”
“Less than an hour ago. That’s all I know.”
The door slid open, and Tier stormed into the room, a cloud of cold fury hanging over him. He started talking halfway to the window.
“Four simultaneous attacks,” he bellowed, “in four different places. Six Kreis are missing.”
Lowe swallowed. His anger dissipated and fear snuck into the space it left behind.
Tier spread out an old map on the table and pointed. “Eicholz, Kier, Losh, and a hospital in Gesundartz. The Erlenders made off with three shiploads of flour and half the lumber this side of the water.” Tier’s eyes drifted over the crowd. They lingered on Lowe, dark with understanding.
Lowe’s chest tightened. Mucking hell. She made use of that information quickly. He hadn’t even told Tier how cracked she was. Muck! If I hadn’t gone to find Mala, I could have told him. Might’ve stopped this. Damnit.
His jealousy now felt petty. He mentally flogged himself. Can’t make a right damn move to save my life. Part of him felt like throwing up his hands. Two missions. Two girls. Too complicated.
But he couldn’t walk away from Mala. She was vulnerable. On the brink of something good. Something big. And Stelle. He was the only one who knew she was cracked.
“Deadwater take it!” he muttered. He was screwed.
He stared out the window. Stelle was making moves, bold moves. Four attacks. He wondered if she was any closer to Troe as a result.
“We lost two ships in Eicholz,” Tier went on, pacing in front of the window with his hands behind his back. “One went down, the other was stolen. Across three locations, five civilians and three Kreis killed. Another three Kreis missing.” Tier took a long, slow breath. “Then the hospital. Adults killed. Three Kreis are missing. The children on site are all dead.”
Whispers flew through the room like wind, stirring hair, tickling ears, making people shiver with terrible theories.
Tier closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s not all. We’ve heard chatter from the town criers that Troe’s looking for another baby incubator.”
“Another Queen?” Verrukter called out. “He’s got an heir. Hell, he’s got two mucked up substitutes if the first kid bites it.”
Tier shrugged and shook his head, pursing his lips in a disgusted expression. “Troe’s strategy has always been to … defy convention.”
“What does this have to do with the attacks?”
Tier’s jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. “Chatter hints at one of two things,” he said. “One of Troe’s priest advisors suggested a mass slaughter to appease a fertility god Troe pissed off. Another suggested Troe remarry. And prove that the curse, the freeze—as they call it—idiots who won’t acknowledge the effects of radiation exposure—isn’t affecting him.”
“So he took advice from crazy number one,” Fell said.
Tier sighed. “Actually, it looks like he’s following through with both. About half an hour after the attacks, town criers were sent from his compound to the Erlender villages, telling the women there to prepare for a Queen Competition.”
A hush fell over the room.
Verrukter was the only one brave enough to break it. Perhaps with retirement looming, because he was the only one who didn’t care about consequences. “What the hell is a Queen Competition?”
Fell stood. “There’s only been one. Honestly, I never thought Troe would have one, since that’s how we got Sich close enough to assassinate his father. But it’s a competition for women. Eligible Erlenders compete for the crown.”
“Well, why don’t we just send someone in and repeat her strategy?” a random voice called out.
Tier sighed. “We believe he’s expecting that.”
A door burst open. Dez ran into the room. All conversation came to a halt.
Lowe’s eyes narrowed as he watched her make her way to the table full of Ancients. She leaned forward and whispered to Tier. His eyes widened. He nodded. Dez rushed out.
Tier turned to the room at large. “The President is en route.” Gasps erupted on all sides.
Tier held up a hand for silence. “We are dealing with the largest-scale Erlender attack that I’ve ever seen. The town criers are making their rounds even as we speak. This isn’t something we can contain. Before the sun goes down, every Senebal citizen from here to the Deadwater will know what happened, and they won’t take it lying d
own. There will be outrage. There will be a call to action, a demand. These people will want revenge. Hell, I want it too.”
He stopped pacing. He put his hands on the table and shook his head. “Forget the Queen Competition right now. We have a hospital full of dead kids to explain. And three other attacks. We’d better have a damn good retaliation plan for Stahl when he gets here.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The President was furious.
He came barreling into the room like an angry bear, berating the Ancients, the scouts, the whole damned Center, accusing them all of incompetence, willful negligence, complacency, and a hundred other words lost to his thunderous roaring. For a long time, no one had the gall to argue with him.
Finally, Tier put his head on the chopping block. “Mr. President, we have a plan. If you would please sit.”
Tier outlined an attack on the Erlender fleet, another on the road to Troe’s compound, and a third on the food reserves near the border.
Lowe just shook his head. The plans would only create refugees. Outlaws.
President Stahl clearly had the same thoughts as Lowe, because he rejected every plan Tier gave him.
After an hour of suggestions and rejections, everyone agreed to a break.
Lowe left Verrukter to get a cup of water. Suddenly, Stahl was beside him, grabbing a pitcher. Lowe slid closer to him. He felt sure this was never what the President intended, civilian casualties and missing kids.
“The Erlenders do have fortune-tellers, you know,” Lowe said softly, giving Stahl a meaningful look. “They could be using their Chiaras to get information.”
Stahl eyed him incredulously. “Chiaras, soldier?”
Lowe frowned and cleared his throat. “A Chiara would rise quickly, if she had inside information…” he trailed off. Stahl only looked perplexed. Frustration rose in Lowe like a wave. He does recognize me, doesn’t he?
