by Tess Sharpe
“She put the EMP patch on her instead of using it herself,” Carol explained, her expression so gentle it made Rhi’s stomach seize up.
Rhi looked at the little girl… Fern. She was talking excitedly to Mantis, gesturing with her hands; when she moved them, lightning sprouted from her fingertips, a tiny flicker of power that made her start in surprise. Catching sight of the distinctive blue EMP patch on the little girl’s arm sent a bittersweet agony surging through Rhi.
But she wasn’t surprised—she couldn’t be. She knew who Umbra was. Umbra had always disagreed when Rhi insisted they had to be selfish, to look out for each other, not for everyone, because they could never rescue everyone. Rhi was practical, but Umbra was hopeful. And so their different points of view had played out: Rhi was here, and Fern was safe, but Umbra…
Umbra was still in Ansel’s grasp. Still under his control. Still his.
She wanted to sag against Jella, to give up the struggle, to finally let these burdens fall on someone else who truly understood them. She wanted to melt into a puddle of nothing, to tear a hole through time and space and leap inside, letting the vacuum overtake her until her body finally stopped fighting.
But she couldn’t. She had to be strong, and she had to be smart… now more than ever.
“We’ll find her,” Carol promised Rhi, her blue eyes blazing.
“Carol!” Scott called, and Carol looked over.
“One second,” she said, walking over to him.
Jella looked over her shoulder at the team, then back to Rhi, tugging her closer to the shuttle. “Rhi, we have a problem,” Jella said, her voice lowering, her hands tightening around her elbows.
“What?” Rhi asked.
“Look who brought us here.” Jella dipped her head to the side.
Rhi’s gaze followed Jella’s. When she’d scanned the people earlier, she’d been so focused on looking for Umbra’s distinctive hair she hadn’t noticed much else. When her eyes fell on the “problem” standing right next to Carol and Scott, Rhi’s heart frosted over, and her legs shook as she bolted forward toward the woman.
“Hey!” Her shout echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the high walls. There was something artificial and smooth about this cave, like it’d been hewn by hands, not by nature.
Carol shifted when Rhi clipped right past her and grabbed the other woman’s hand.
Sona shook her off, her face a calm mask, even now. Oh, that face—Rhi remembered a younger version of it so well, and it infuriated her, sparking an anger she hadn’t been allowed to show for years.
“Here we go,” Sona muttered. “Hello, Rhi.”
“You,” Rhi growled.
“Me.”
Rhi lunged, hissing between her teeth, her fingers aching to close around Sona’s neck.
“Whoa!” Scott said, reaching for her and missing as she dodged him.
“Stop that!” Someone yanked her back just as her fingernails grazed Sona’s skin, and she fought against them for a second— until she realized the hands restraining her were green. Mantis.
The fight left her immediately—not because Mantis was manipulating her emotions, but because she didn’t want to hurt the damaged empath. She could barely imagine carrying Jella’s pain, let alone all of Damaria’s.
“What the hell is going on?” Carol demanded, stalking up to the girls. Rhi’s stomach plummeted at her harsh tone, but then she realized that Carol was staring at Sona. In fact, all of them— her team—had grouped around her, tense and poised at the ready. They had her back. They had her trust. They had her.
“Rhi?” Amadeus asked, the syllable holding many questions. He’d immediately gone to Jella and Fern, as if he knew Rhi would want them protected. She felt a wave of gratitude toward her teammate.
“This is Sona Lee,” Rhi said, and Amadeus’s eyes widened when he recognized the name. “She’s the former president’s daughter,” she continued, for the rest of the team.
“That’s true,” Sona said.
“She’s a monster,” Rhi snarled.
Sona looked down, fighting to keep her face calm. How many times had Miss Egrit shown them the official presidential portrait with Sona perched at her father’s feet, so much like that sick picture Ansel had of Umbra in his office? Sometimes Rhi thought she knew the planes of Sona’s face better than her own. She’d certainly spent more time looking at her picture than at herself.
For years at the Maiden House, Sona Lee had been held up as an ideal of Damarian girlhood. Rhi used to feel sorry for her when Miss Egrit spoke of her—a girl who had never known freedom. Who was as trapped as they were, though she didn’t know it.
But then, the twins murdered their Keepers, and Miss Egrit took the girls to watch their execution. The president had insisted they attend—and he’d brought his daughter.
“I remember you, too, Rhi,” Sona said.
“Then you know why I’m going to rip your throat out.” Why had she lobbed all the ember bombs at Ansel’s home? If only she’d kept just one, she’d be able to…
“Maybe someone should explain what’s going on before we proceed to the throat-ripping?” Scott piped up.
“I’ll tell you,” Rhi said, her teeth grinding in the effort to keep from punching Sona. Every second the girl avoided her eyes, the fury rose in her until it felt like the only way it could come out was to scream. “I’ve mentioned the twins who murdered their Keepers and were executed for it. Sona’s father ordered it. He made us attend.”
“He made me attend, too,” Sona interjected.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Rhi hissed at Sona. The only thing keeping her from going for her again was the fact that the team—the people at her back, the ones who would be there even without answers—deserved to understand. “You’ve all seen what the ember bombs do with just a cup of the stuff. President Lee lowered the twins into a pool of it. We had to watch. We had to listen as the crowd cheered. As Sona cheered.”
Silence echoed in the tunnel, the only sound the drip drip drip echoing through the silence. Rhi could feel the tension in the team behind her.
Sona’s gaze finally lifted, fixing on her. “I had no choice.”
“You had a choice,” Rhi snapped, thinking of how her voice rose that day, ringing out loudly, because it was the only child’s among a sea of men’s. “You think they didn’t order us to cheer? You think we weren’t punished when we refused to betray our sisters?”
“What do you want me to say?” Sona demanded. “That I was a child? That I was weak and terrified and brainwashed? That I didn’t want my father to beat me again? All that is true, Rhi. What’s also true is that day changed me forever. Watching the twins, watching all of you—” Her lips pressed together as her eyes grew bright. “You all showed me what it looked like to be brave.”
“I’m so glad my friends’ murder was educational for you,” Rhi snapped.
“It was,” Sona said, and Rhi went for her, her nails slashing Sona’s cheek before Scott pulled her back.
Sona touched a hand to her bleeding cheek. “I’m sorry the twins’ murder was my wakeup call,” she said. “But from that moment on, I understood the nightmare I’d been born into, the nightmare you were all suffering. Then I began to plan. And now I’m here.”
“Yes, in this very impressive cave. I’m in awe,” Rhi said, wiping the blood dotting her fingers on her pants.
“Come with me, and you will be impressed,” Sona said.
“We’re not going anywhere with you.” It wasn’t Rhi who said it—it was Jella. She stepped forward, away from Amadeus and past the rest of the team, coming to stand next to her.
“She’s supposed to be dead,” Jella said to Rhi. “The government reported she fell off a cliff on a walk with her father almost two years ago.”
This was news to Rhi. She hadn’t seen that bulletin, but Miss Egrit shared only select ones with them in the Maiden House. Rhi raised an eyebrow expectantly at Sona.
“Well, as you can see, I
’m alive,” Sona shrugged. “Are you surprised the government lied?”
“You could be working for them,” Jella insisted.
“And if I was, I’d be reporting to your Keeper, the security secretary, so you’d know about it.”
“He’s not my Keeper anymore,” Jella said. “He’s not anything anymore.”
“You got rid of Marson?” Sona asked, and then she whistled, impressed. “Ansel’s hair is gonna be smoking, he’ll be so mad.”
“I don’t trust you,” Rhi said.
“Well, you’re going to have to,” Sona replied. “Because I know where your brother is.”
26
FOR A tense moment, they stood there, staring at each other. Their roles in life should have taken them on very different paths—Sona as the Damarian wife, Rhi as the Inhuman slave— but their mutual strength and stubbornness had brought them here, instead, to this place, with the same goal burning inside them: freedom.
“If you know where Zeke is, just tell me,” Rhi demanded.
Sona shook her head. “We need to talk. You and me. No one else.”
“Not happening,” Carol said instantly.
“No way,” Amadeus added.
Rhi appreciated their protectiveness, but her teammates were outsiders here. This was between her and Sona. “Fine,” she said. Jella made a noise of protest next to her, but Rhi shook her head.
“Then all of you, come with me,” Sona said, pointing her torch toward the tunnel that led out of the cavern. It was narrow, with car tracks set deep into the stone, and they had to move single-file through it, half stooped in places.
“What is this place?” Amadeus asked.
“The Field of Fire was once a sprawling mountain range, before the ancient Damarians mined it to death,” Sona answered. “The tunnels the miners built are what’s left of their spoils. They lead all the way to the coast, but most people have forgotten about them, so we were able to take them over.”
“We?” Rhi heard Carol mutter to Mantis, who whispered back, “There are at least a hundred of her people, probably more. I can feel them from here.”
Rhi tensed, wondering whether they should be preparing for an attack. Part of her wanted to believe Sona, that she had truly been changed by witnessing the twins’ execution. But all she could see was the image burned into her memory: Sona’s arm raised, her fist thrust in the air obediently as her voice rang out in triumph alongside her father.
Rhi still had the scars along her spine where Miss Egrit had dropped beads of ember gel as punishment for each girl who refused to cheer.
Soon, she thought, picturing Miss Egrit’s gaping smile in her mind, you’ll pay.
But did Sona deserve to pay? That was the question. Was she evil? Was she good? Could she have truly broken free of the poison that was beaten into her?
Sona led them to the left into a huge cavern, this one three times the size of the first—large enough for a small city. Tents and buildings cobbled together from whatever scrap could be scrounged dotted the expanse in crooked rows. Laughter filled the air, and Rhi watched as a little boy chased his sister down one of the rows, their mother following, telling them to slow down. The smell of grilled meat wafted in the air, clotheslines were strung between the houses and tents, and the heat towers set in the makeshift streets glowed softly.
“Welcome to the Hub,” Sona said.
Jella’s hand closed around Rhi’s and squeezed it. Fern had fallen asleep in Jella’s arms sometime during their walk, her cheek smashed against the older girl’s shoulder.
Rhi looked at Fern and knew she couldn’t resent her for Umbra’s sacrifice. All she could do was be grateful to know the love of someone so giving, and hope she’d be worthy of it… and that somehow, someday, she’d be able to touch it—her—again.
Rhi didn’t want to let Jella go as Sona led their group through the lopsided rows of homes. To shield pedestrians on some of the busier “streets,” oiled canvas tarps were strung up under especially drippy spots.
“How many people live down here?” Carol asked.
“Over two hundred, last count,” Sona replied. “We have women and men and people who don’t feel those identities fit their true selves living here. Damarians from all over the planet come to us, seeking a life free from the Keepers and Council, from the strict binary they insist our lives and loves and selves must follow. This place is one of acceptance and learning. Of understanding.” They passed a group of men who nodded their heads in respect as Sona passed. “The Hub is our home, but we have outposts on two other continents as well.”
People peered curiously out of their homes as they passed, but no one spoke to them. Rhi and her group followed Sona down the path to the end of the row, where a crooked sign marked RISE in big block letters stood on a half-metal, half-wood building with a tarp roof.
“The rest of you can stay here. There’s food and drink inside; Lola will give you anything you’d like. Rhi and I will return after we’ve had our discussion.”
Rhi smiled reassuringly at her friends, but an uneasy tension was building. After a nod of approval from Carol, the team disappeared inside the makeshift restaurant. Jella followed with Fern after squeezing Rhi’s hand a final time, but Carol remained on the street, looking up and down at Sona.
“In the museum gardens, you saw what I can do,” she told Sona.
Sona inclined her head, a graceful movement that came only with hours of practice. “I did.”
“Just so we know where we stand,” Carol smiled, a dangerous edge to it that made Rhi feel warm and safe. “I will blast your little tent city to smithereens if you so much as touch her.”
“We will just be talking, Captain,” Sona assured her.
“So glad to hear that,” Carol said, her smile sharpening the threat in her voice. A shiver traveled down even Rhi’s spine.
“We’ll be fine,” Rhi told her.
She followed Sona, leaving Carol standing guard at the end of the street like the soldier she was. The girls ascended the crude steps carved in the cavern wall that led up to a ledge overlooking the expanse of little houses, shacks, and tents. There, Sona led her into another tunnel cut into the stone, this one wider than the last, large enough to stand up in. Rhi drew her jacket tighter around her, Ansel’s book digging into her ribs as she did.
The tunnel opened to a smaller cavern, where a rustic rug woven from leather and rags was spread across the damp stone floor, a desk made from crates and a rough-hewn slab of red stone laid across them. A bed was tucked in one corner, covered with furs that looked like Sona might have tanned them herself.
“Not what you expected?” she asked Rhi, sitting down behind her desk and gesturing to the rickety chair across from it.
Rhi ignored her. “Where is my brother?”
“Please, sit down.”
She remained standing. “I don’t think you understand, Sona.” She began to circle her hands, the tug inside her splitting and growing, sparks gathering in the air. “I don’t have an implant anymore. And that weapon that shuts down our powers? I’m pretty much immune to it at this point.” She stretched her hands out, a rip tearing through the atmosphere. She fed into it, letting it grow, lengthen; it spun darker, closer to Sona.
Sona’s hands gripped the edges of her desk, her eyes wide with fear. “You throw me in that,” she gritted out, “you never find Zeke.”
Rhi let go, and the rip unraveled, closing with a wobble just inches from Sona’s face.
“I’ve had a bad day,” she said, and it wasn’t an apology—it was a warning. “So lay out your terms.”
Sona slumped and sighed—in relief, but also in defeat—and Rhi hated the fact that somehow, she felt for her.
“I didn’t fall off a cliff like the government says, Rhi,” Sona said, leaning her elbows on her desk. “My father pushed me.”
Rhi hadn’t expected that. The perfect Damarian princess— and her father had tried to kill her? She had just one word. “Why?”
“Because he found out what I was doing,” Sona explained. “After the twins’ execution… I was being honest when I told you it changed me. I wanted… I needed answers. My father was preparing me for a political marriage. He wanted me to understand Damarian history to be the best wife I could be to whoever he chose as my husband, so he let me read a lot more than most girls.”
“What does Damarian history have to do with any of this?” Rhi demanded, frustration hooking inside her. “All I want is to know where my brother is.”
“My father tried to kill me because I uncovered the truth about the afflicted and why they died,” Sona said. “And I was close to finding the proof—proof that he once had before it was stolen from him.”
“The truth?” Rhi echoed, still not understanding.
“They’ve always told us that the suns bless only men with the flame,” Sona explained, intoning, “As it is now, and how it always has been, and will always be.”
“Yeah, yeah… Women are too weak to bear it—I know the script,” Rhi waved her off.
“It’s a lie,” Sona said. “Hundreds of years ago, women held the flame, too. And in women, the flame wasn’t limited to just pyrotechnics. I found scant references—sketches of powered women in ancient texts, letters mentioning women with abilities like healing or telekinesis—going back thousands of years.”
“Then what happened?” Rhi asked, thinking about the afflicted and their myth about the woman who fell from the stars. “Why are only men powered now?”
“Because they slaughtered the women,” Sona went on. “The group of men that would form the first Council after the war, they systematically ended every family line that contained the genes that give women the flame. Then they made up a story about a woman from outer space to blame their genocide on. And they told it so well and so many times for so many years that it became ‘history.’”
Rhi stared at her. Sona was sitting there, looking at Rhi like she expected this news was going to shatter her world. But Rhi laughed—harsh, angry, and mocking. Sona jerked back, frowning.
“Seriously? Your dad tried to kill you because you finally figured out that the obviously fear-mongering myth was just that—fake? Of course it’s fake! Of course it’s propaganda! Of course the woman who fell from the stars isn’t real! I figured that out the second or third time they tried to shovel it down our throats. What’s wrong with you that it took you all this time?”
