by Ann Denton
The soldiers had a pirate mentality. Take everything but don’t take any shit.
Citizens mentalities differed, but the pious zealots leaned on everyone. There was one around every corner, it seemed. And knowing how to appease them quickly was key. So Lowe taught them some common Erlender prayer sayings.
“Let the spell guide you.”
“Life’s a mountain of glass. Everyone gets bloody feet.”
“Gods defend us.”
“We live beyond the end of the world. In the land of shadows. Searching for light.”
Center personnel were professional and practical, and pretty much the exact opposite of everything Lowe’s team needed to be. More than that, they were proud. Lowe nearly pulled his hair out trying to get Neid to appear the meek, unassuming slave that the Erlenders preferred. He almost called Verrukter into the room to whip her into shape. But he stopped himself.
Training Mala himself was hard enough. Lowe couldn’t put Verrukter through that.
And Mala … Mala was bar-none, the worst actor he’d ever encountered. She went stiff every time she tried to sound or walk like Keptiker. And she kept realizing her feminine wrist twists midgesture, which made her pause awkwardly. It made Lowe bite back laughter.
In spite of their desperate timeline, Lowe didn’t feel irritated, he only felt warm. Mala didn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. And though it was making his job harder, it also made him fall harder.
Lowe swallowed at the thought of the mission, and the idea that her genuine heart might get her killed.
He doubled his efforts to drill them on escape routes, fielding questions from Mala and Neid, when Ein interjected.
“I think,” said Ein, “that if something goes horribly wrong directly with the King and Keptiker here, our best bet is magic.”
Lowe stared at him. It was the last thing he ever expected to come out of Ein’s mouth. He stared at the lanky scientist. What’s his game? He saw Ein’s eyes flicker to Mala. Lowe’s eyes followed.
How much of Ein’s suggestion was designed for Mala’s benefit? Everyone knew Mala had a sliver of belief. Is he suggesting magic and shock value to try to one-up me and the escape routes? To drive a wedge there? To align with her?
Ein was notoriously disdainful of magic. Why would he want to use it? Yes, it would shock the Erlenders. But it would also put a target on Mala’s back. Put her at risk. Ein had to know that. It was a stupid idea.
Ein continued. “If Mala melts into his father, I think the ensuing panic would give us enough cover to get out. Troe’s stupidly superstitious.”
Lowe held up his hand and shook his head. “If she melts into his father, Keptiker is going to be labeled a demon. They skin demons alive. If Mala melts while she’s in Keptiker’s body, she won’t be able to use his form to escape. Everyone will be after her.”
“I know,” Ein said, grinning like an idiot, “but imagine the dead king striding through the halls …”
Lowe started shaking his head as Ein described the panic and chaos that would ensue. “Not part of our mission.” Killing Troe is Stelle’s job. His brain couldn’t help but snark at him: And it has to stay that way? Because one assassin is better than five. Right. We should all be trying to get our claws in Troe. It would at least make the danger worth it. Shut up. Shut up. That’s treason talking.
Lowe turned back to Ein and the tall man opened his big mouth again. Lowe lost his patience. You stupid mucking fool. You know this shit is monitored right? You set up the damned video feeds.
Tier was watching. They were training and preparing in this room because the video feed led right to that Ancient-only room off the communication hub.
Lowe’s eyes flickered to Mala again. She looked uncertain. Lowe looked back at Ein. A spark lit the other man’s eyes. That mucking little bottom feeder. He’s trying to make me look bad. Uptight. But even as he realized this, the words spilled out before he could stop them.
“This is why Typicals are nothing more than—“
“Target practice?” Ein interjected.
Lowe had to clench his fists to keep them out of Ein’s face.
Neid intervened, grabbing her brother’s arm. Thank Deadwater, Lowe thought. He wasn’t sure what the Ancients would do if a brawl broke out. Not to mention Mala, whose eyes still flickered uncertainly between him and Ein. Like she didn’t know whose side to choose.
Hatred flared in Lowe’s stomach even as Ein conceded. But then Mala’s words cracked his self-control.
“I can at least try it,” she said. She turned her eyes to Lowe, silently imploring him. “If I can give you guys more time to get out, I’m for it.”
Lowe’s jaw tightened. He fought a panic-induced meltdown. He had a vision of her melting in front of Troe’s throne. The crowd swallowed her. She was torn apart before she could scream. A shiver ran through him, strong enough to make him twitch. He pressed his lips together.
Mala was willing to die in order to give the rest of them a better chance to escape. He fought the urge to kiss her sweet, self-sacrificing lips. Not gonna happen. I would never let you.
Ein glanced at Lowe, triumphant.
He thinks he won. Little mud-breather thinks he’s won. Lowe locked onto his jealousy. It was easier to deal with than the dead images of Mala floating through his mind.
His thoughts came to a jarring halt when Ein actually kissed her. The kiss was way too long and way too intimate for his liking.
When they finally pulled apart, seconds before Lowe was set to rip them apart, they stared into one another’s eyes. And nothing happened.
Mala still looked like Keptiker.
Then Mala pulled back, and she whispered something in Ein’s ear. He relaxed—they both did, and Mala started to shift.
Her skin wavered and changed color, but instead of growing to assume the hulking form of Troe’s father, she shrank and her skin darkened until she was herself again. When the melt was over, she stared down at the General’s baggy pilot jumpsuit, frowning.
Shit, Lowe thought, but most of him was relieved.
“What the muck happened?” asked Neid.
Mala looked helplessly at Ein, mouth hanging open as she stammered silently. Ein cocked his head. “It … was working, right?”
Mala nodded slowly. “I started melting but … I just … couldn’t.”
Lowe approached her and put the back of his hand against her forehead, testing her temperature. She felt a bit warm, but that may have been from exertion. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’re too tired.”
Mala blinked and slid forward into him. “Yeah,” she murmured, “maybe.”
Lowe smiled down at her, stroking her cheek. “Why don’t we all turn in for a few hours. Let’s … stay here so we can wake up and just start working. Okay?” He made the suggestion half out of efficiency, and half out of territorial possession. Let Ein watch them lay together all night.
He made eye contact with Ein. The other man stared back and Lowe had to bite down on a smile as he steered Mala to the far side of the room. You might get to kiss her, but she’s still mine. His mind refused to acknowledge what would happen when they got to Troe’s compound. When he had to make the trade. When he had to betray her trust.
Lowe focused in on this moment. On lying next to her. On how her eyelashes feathered against her cheek. His eyes traveled the soft contours of her face. He was terrified by the notion that she might only exist for another two days.
Could I even bury her? Lowe brushed a lock of long brown hair from her shoulder.
It was a thought he’d never had before. He’d been trained to think of survival. Even before the Center, his parents had drilled it into him.
“The dead don’t worry about respect. They don’t care about bones or tears. We care that you survive,” his mother used to say.
Typicals were different. They had big funerals for one another. The Center had memorials for Kreis. But not always. Not even mostly. Most of the time, Kreis simply were labele
d ‘missing’. He wasn’t sure if it was for stats or hope.
Everyone always just wanted to move forward. He stared at Mala as he fingered a long curl. Could I move forward without her?
Worry and fear swirled in his stomach like a bad mix of water and gasoline. But physical exhaustion finally won out. When Lowe finally closed his eyes, he fell asleep instantly.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Lowe woke to the sputtering of the radio. He sat up slowly, rubbing itchy irritated eyes that begged him to sleep. His head throbbed. It was dark, the deep dark of an interior underwater room.
The space on the floor next to him was empty. Mala was gone.
Lowe shot up and looked around the room, heart pounding. Neid was sleeping with her legs slung over the arm of a chair, her mouth hanging open, but Ein was nowhere to be seen. Immediately his blood turned to ice.
Midnight tryst? he thought bitterly, but almost immediately he pushed the idea away. No, she hates Ein. But Mala had whispered to Ein earlier when the kiss wasn’t making her melt. And then it had worked. What did she say? Fear and jealousy pierced him like nails.
“Alba, come in.”
Lowe’s head swiveled to the table in the center of the room, his hurt forgotten.
“Alba,” a man’s voice hesitated. “Alba, come in. Alba, come in. Alba, come in.”
Lowe stood, stretched and picked up the radio, yawning. Automatically his hand reached for the response button. But another hand stopped him.
Neid stared up at him with wide doe-eyes. He sighed and shook his head to wake himself up.
“Alba, come in. Alba, come in.”
Neid unfolded Lowe’s fingers and took the radio. She pressed the button, letting out a loud theatric yawn. “Um … yeah? Hello? I was sleeping.” She did a great impression of the ditzy blonde. Lowe wondered how often she’d mocked Alba to perfect the voice.
There was a relieved sigh on the other end. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah, obviously. Uh, what’s up?”
“I think we’ve found it. The way through.”
Neid raised her eyebrows and Lowe and mouthed “Way through?” But Lowe just shook his head and shrugged.
“Okay,” Neid said into the radio.
“We can do it. We have the pieces now. The words. The fear. We can find her.”
Lowe’s heart seized up. His mind immediately flew to the hospital. Fear. They’d used fear on the kids. Is he talking about the test? Does Alba know about that? He cursed himself for letting her go. For not tying her to her hut. For not turning her in. Muck.
“Come find me. We can go together.”
The voice cut off, and the radio returned to static.
“Okay,” Neid set down the radio. “So, what was that about?”
“I don’t know,” Lowe replied. It was only a half-lie.
“I don’t get it,” said Neid, shaking her head. “Alba’s not the type.”
“Type for what?”
“This,” Neid said, gesturing to the room. “Subterfuge, code words and secret radios. Lowe, she isn’t smart enough for this. She’s one hell of a fighter, but up here?” Neid poked her temple. “Nada, nothing, nobody’s home.”
Lowe sat down, thinking. Staring at the table and seeing something else.
“Verrukter’s told me stories about how she can’t sit still. She’s always in the Costume Shop with those old guys. She’s weird. She’s just … I don’t know how to describe it. Other than stupid.” Neid tried to justify her position.
Lowe just stared at her, spinning the words in his mind like a top. Blut left because of the border. The radiation. But now, it sounded like they were searching for someone. Who?
Chapter Fifty
Hours later, Lowe lay on the floor, feigning sleep. He hadn’t been able to turn his brain off. Mala and Ein had slid silently back into the room at some point. She’d slid her arm around Lowe as she curled back up next to him. He hadn’t responded.
He hadn’t made a noise either when a group of Kreis had come into the room and sedated Mala and Neid to haul them off for their final trial. He hadn’t moved.
He stared hard at the wall. Ein stirred behind him, rustling maps and muttering to himself. Lowe flexed his fist. He really wanted to punch Ein. For last night. But also just to relieve some mucking tension.
“Nothing happened.” Ein’s voice carried clearly across the room.
Lowe sat up. He glared at Ein. “I know.”
Ein smirked. “If you’re so sure, why are you pouting?”
“I’m sure she’s as honorable as you are a two-faced, scheming little mudbreather.”
“I’d punch you for that, but—”
“Go ahead.” Lowe stood. He rolled his neck and stared Ein down.
“It would be counterproductive.”
“I think it would be very productive.” Lowe gave a practice jab and Ein flinched.
“Mala can’t melt into the dead,” Ein said in a rush, holding up his arms as a shield.
Lowe dropped his fists. “What?”
“We tried last night. That’s where we went. It’s why she can’t melt into King Troe’s father. I thought maybe it was because she hadn’t met him, but she melted in President Stahl—no problem.” Ein shook his head. “You know what that means, right?”
Lowe nodded once, grinding his teeth. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We can’t kill Keptiker. Muck!” As if they needed one more thing stacking the odds against them. They’d have to disable one of Troe’s most dangerous Generals, but leave him breathing.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Ein collapsed in a velvet chair rubbing his eyes, which Lowe just noticed were bloodshot. “Most the night, actually. And I have a few ideas. We can beat him and leave him in the woods. You have some sedatives in your poison kit, right? Can we get extra?”
Lowe nodded.
“We dose him. Beat him. Poison oak maybe. Tie him up. The works. Anything to keep him out of sight and unrecognizable while we’re in the compound. Even if he gets back to Wilde Township, we’ll take all the horses and it’s half a day’s walk to Troe’s compound. We’ll have to move fast, but we can be in and out before he makes it.”
Lowe nodded. “If we can get to Troe’s compound without Mala blowing our cover. She can hardly pass as a man. Keptiker’s people know him.”
“I’ve thought about that, too. We should march to Troe’s through the night. Use that cover story about a spy to throw everyone off. Say we need a schedule change. You and I will have to be from another township. We can be inspecting the taxes. As if Keptiker’s been accused of shorting Troe. It’ll keep people’s eyes on us and give Keptiker an excuse to act odd. Off.”
Lowe stared hard at Ein. “I hate you. I really do. I want to punch your guts out right now. But it’s a good idea. Damnit.”
Ein chuckled. “Hey. We both want the same thing, right?”
Lowe raised an eyebrow.
“To make it out of there alive. It doesn’t matter who she chooses if there’s only a few days left.”
Lowe opened his mouth, about to tell Ein everything. The President’s mission, Stelle’s prophecy about Troe’s Queen, the assassination plan for Troe. The trade …
The door burst open and Dez came running in, panting. “I wanted to tell you myself!”
“What?” Lowe asked. He felt himself go pale. “Mala. Where is she? What happened?”
“She circumvented the final trial,” Dez smiled.
“What?”
“She refused to sacrifice Ges. Her little archival assistant. Refused to kill him. She banished him instead. Said that was the equivalent of taking his life away. Said that fulfilled their instructions. And… they accepted.”
Ein punched the air. “Yes!”
Ein and Dez jabbered on about the Ancients approving Mala’s choice. About her preventing Neid’s sacrifice. About how amazing and mind-blowing it all was.
Lowe was still. Eventually, Dez and Ein both turned to stare at him. She’s perf
ect. Mucking perfect. Brilliant and kind. And we’re going to sacrifice her to save … what? Some kids whose homes are gonna be eaten up by radiation anyway? To kill Troe, to create a power vacuum that’ll just delay the inevitable? She’s goodness. Pure goodness. She doesn’t deserve this. And I don’t deserve her.
Chapter Fifty-One
The sun flailed in the distance, the last desperate rays thrashing orange and red on the Gottermund before the river swallowed the light and night crept in. The boat rocked beneath Lowe’s feet as he steered his team upriver. Toward the Erlenders, toward Keptiker. Toward Mala’s destiny. Her death sentence.
He hadn’t spoken to Mala. They’d been on the water for hours, and he’d been completely silent. She stared at him from across the boat. He knew she was wondering what she’d done wrong. But it wasn’t anything she’d done wrong. It was what she’d done right. So perfectly right. Lamm and Dea and Beza flashed through Lowe’s head. If he’d had half Mala’s goodness, he wouldn’t have ripped a family apart. Wouldn’t have killed so many people without so much as batting an eye.
Self-pity flooded his system. When he exhaled, it lingered in the fog of his breath on the chill air.
He glanced at Mala. At her curls tangling in the wind. At the sunset reflected in her eyes. You’re a pawn. And it’s my fault.
It wasn’t fair, to let her love the man who was selling her out. Maybe even getting her killed. She should hate me. I deserve her hate.
“Can I talk to you?” asked a voice at his shoulder.
Lowe’s heart stopped. Mala.
Ein swooped in from nowhere and reached for the wheel. “Here, I can get that for a minute.”
“I don’t think—” Lowe began.
“You can have this discussion in front of me if you want, but based on Mala’s face, I don’t think you want to.” Ein grinned at him over Mala’s head, anticipating the fallout that was about to transpire.
Lowe wanted to smack him right in his smug jaw. Which was just another reason he wasn’t good enough. He’d thought he had control. But that was a joke.
