by Liz Delton
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t smell us.”
With that, Ember shut her eyes, trying to forcibly shove down the thoughts of what the Scouts had done to Holly, and what she had seen the wolves and mountain lions do to some people.
All she could feel was Ven’s breath on her neck, and their two heartbeats pounding fast. They were hidden enough in the undergrowth and leaves—she hoped—but if the beast smelled them, they were dead.
After several immeasurably long moments that could have been an hour or a few minutes, she felt Ven’s throat bob as he swallowed, and said, “They’re moving back north.”
Her breath still caught in her chest, she managed a tiny nod.
Eventually, Ven slid off of her when he deemed the patrol was far enough away. Now that her lungs could expand, Ember’s breath came in quiet gasps. She couldn’t see where the Scouts were, but Ven twisted himself between the boughs of some undergrowth to watch their progress.
Finally, he rose to a crouch, and held his hand out to help her up.
They slunk away, as quickly as they could, to the south. Ember made an effort to keep her steps quiet and light as they darted through the trees. They slowed only when they reached the rocky mountainside.
Without speaking, they silently agreed to stop, collapsing onto the ground to catch their breath. Ember’s neck was sore from craning it over her shoulder while they had run. Thankfully, the mountainside was deserted, and they would see any pursuers coming from a long way off.
She looked up to see Ven watching her, and amazingly, he blushed and looked away. Heat rose to her cheeks when she, too, remembered how they had just spent the better part of half an hour.
Slyly, knowing this might be her best opportunity to do so, she asked, “So, will you come on the mission or not?”
Ven just laughed.
Thirty-Three
Sylvia slept like the dead.
She jerked awake as soon as she gained a thread of consciousness. Her eyes snapped open, and she shot straight up in bed—she was in a bed! She entirely forgot where she was, and for a moment, who she was.
Seconds passed as her heart hammered and she looked around, finally concluding that no, she was not dead. She was in her room, at home, in Meadowcity.
Waves of calm flooded her, soothing the ever-present strain of worry that felt like a permanent resident in the back of her brain.
And then something else flooded her brain: kissing Atlan Blackwater, his eyes boring into hers with blazing heat. She lifted her fingers to her mouth, wondering if it had been a dream.
Despite what she had endured in the past few weeks, she smiled, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of waking in her own bed, and not on the dirty floor of a cell.
She climbed off her bed, and regretted it as soon as she put weight on her feet. She was bruised all over from the Scouts’ idea of persuasion, and the injuries from the broken glass throbbed painfully as blood rushed faster through her veins. She steadied herself on the window frame.
Someone had left a pitcher of water on the windowsill, and she drank half of it, straight from the pitcher. Gasping for air, but her thirst quenched, she scooped up her soft house shoes—had she really thrown them there in the corner only two weeks ago? Her boots had seen better days, and she felt like she deserved some comfortable shoes after all she’d been through.
When she strapped her long knife to her belt, she felt as if she were donning full-body armor. The belt sat comfortingly across her hips. Finally, she had a weapon, finally she could defend herself again. She grasped the handle reassuringly and took a deep breath.
She paused at the doorway, spotting her tiny silver earlink placed carefully in its box on the shelf. She realized it was no longer crusted in blood, and for that matter, nor was she.
The villa was quiet, and she wondered how in the world she had gotten here. The last she remembered, she had been in Skycity, only wishing to be here, and here she had awoken. How long had she been unconscious?
She had an idea of who to ask. Panic rapidly boiled her stomach—where was Atlan? She couldn’t remember a single thing that happened since she had gotten into that thing—the hydrojet he called it. What if he had left, gone back to Skycity and his responsibilities? Had she imagined the kiss in her delirium?
She popped the earlink into her ear and connected in an instant—her mind snapping to the side as the earlink gained access to her thoughts, and her thoughts gained control of the link.
Immediately she reached out a tendril of thought.
Atlan?
You’re awake, he linked in reply almost immediately.
Where are you? she asked, the unexplainable panic threatening to boil over.
“Out here,” a voice called from the front of the villa.
With a jolt she swept back the curtain over her doorway, and stuck her head out into the villa.
Atlan Blackwater was in her kitchen.
“Oh,” she said. The link fell apart as her thoughts dipped away.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, taking a few strides toward her, as though afraid she might collapse again.
“Loads better,” she answered, and lowered herself onto the bench at the table. He poured her a glass of water, which she drank, slowly this time.
A bowl of oats appeared in front of her a moment later, and she quirked an eyebrow at him—he seemed rather familiar with her kitchen.
“How long have we been here?”
He sat down beside her as she ate. She couldn’t help but notice his thigh brush against hers as he settled onto the bench. “Just a day. We landed an hour past sunrise yesterday, and you’ve been sleeping since.”
Her mouth popped open in horror. “But—Greyling, he’ll be coming—”
Atlan reached out a hand to stop her from standing, which was painful anyway, so she sat back down, breath coming quicker. The realization that Greyling and his army were coming here—again—dawned on her.
“We’ve got time,” he said.
His hand lingered on her shoulders until he accepted that she wasn’t getting up again. The warmth from his fingers spread across her shoulders and warmed her cheeks.
“Eat,” he ordered, and went to fetch her some honey.
So she ate. The food and water did more than fill her belly. A fog she hadn’t realized was over her brain began to lift, and her body seemed less sluggish, less hollow.
A curious warmth was blooming in her chest, too, as Atlan handed her a napkin and then cleared her dishes, not letting her move until she had finished every morsel and drop.
When her mouth was no longer occupied with food, she opened it to resume questioning him, but before she could get out a word, the front door burst open, and she saw a dark blur streak toward her.
Left hand already reaching toward her knife, she froze when the blur slammed into her. Long black hair tickled her arm, and two skinny arms flung themselves wide around her waist.
“Sonia!” she murmured, redirecting her reach to encompass her sister in a hug. She closed her eyes and buried her nose in her sister’s hair.
“Are you okay?” Sonia asked, pulling away and eying Sylvia’s many bandages and bruises.
Sylvia nodded. “I’m fine,” she assured her.
Sonia’s lack of further questions was almost alarming—her sister must know what was going on already. Did the rest of Meadowcity?
“We’ll get through this,” Sylvia affirmed, holding Sonia by the shoulders. The girl nodded seriously, making Sylvia’s lips twitch up in a smile.
A sliver of light fell across the table as Sylvia’s mother Adeline opened the front door, brushing her hands on the skirts of her dress. Lark followed, a large basket of early lettuce swinging from an arm.
At that moment, Sylvia’s walls broke. Tears sprang to her eyes, taking in the sight of her family, who for weeks now she thought she might never see again. Atlan put a light hand on her shoulder, and she dashed away the wetness from her eyelashes.
&n
bsp; She shoved aside the thoughts of Greyling, and of the coming battle—stuffed them into a box in her mind, where she would come back later and hack them to pieces. In their absence, she basked in the light of her family, and of Atlan Blackwater, who had come to rescue her.
Thirty-Four
She blocked us from linking.”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow at Atlan, sitting on the bench next to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. It was an effort not to reach out and touch him when he looked at her with such intensity in his eyes—as he was doing now.
“Why would she do something like that?” Sylvia asked, busying her hands with a canister of tea her mother had given her. She closed her eyes in bliss as the warm liquid slipped down her throat. Such simple things had become luxuries since her incarceration. The bath she had taken hours ago still had her in a happy stupor.
Atlan huffed in irritation. “I can’t explain anything she does,” he muttered. “But it makes sense. The distance isn’t a problem for the link—and it works now, now that I’ve got a new earlink.”
Over the last hour they had sat gazing at the lake in the center of Meadowcity, talking about what had happened since the Trials. Sylvia had begged to hear about the escape from Seascape on the hydrojet and how he had learned of her kidnapping, and she listened open-mouthed when he had explained how the jet worked.
“Where’s the jet now?” she wondered, not wishing to dwell on Lady Naomi’s many mysterious motives.
She hadn’t seen it on their walk to the lake, only the comforting view of Meadowcity’s mossy villas scattered inside the circle of the treewall. From her brief sight of it, she knew the jet wasn’t something she would miss.
“Out in the wilds,” he answered, craning around to look southeast, as if he could see across the city and through the treewall. “We couldn’t land in the city, but we hid it well enough yesterday.”
Sylvia nodded, and Atlan answered her next question before she even asked it.
“I can monitor its security vids from here, in case anyone tries to get too close to it.”
She had been turning ideas over in her head all morning how the hydrojet might figure into their plans for the inevitable battle with the Scouts. “So, it’s like a really big drone?”
He smiled, gazing out over the lake now. “In some ways,” he agreed.
She gasped, suddenly remembering something that had lurked in the back of her mind since waking.
“My drone!” she exclaimed, yanking up the sleeve of her light sweater to access her datastrands. “I forgot all about it!”
Power already flowed through the connection between earlink and datawoven thread, and now she reached her awareness out into the city, then into the wilds beyond, searching for her drone with an outstretched link. Atlan waited quietly, and the weight of his eyes on her was almost like a healing balm.
Twice, she had to let the searching link drop, the effort to send it out making her dizzy. The second time, she leaned back on the bench and closed her eyes.
Cool fingers were at her temples, and her eyes fluttered open to see Atlan on one knee before her. Heart hammering in her chest, she had known deep down that she hadn’t imagined that kiss on top of the jet, but the reality of Atlan Blackwater here, now, made her head spin.
She opened her mouth, then closed it, forgetting all about her drone.
Slowly, he released his fingers from her temples, then rested them on her knees, their weight heavy and reassuring.
“You know,” Sylvia began, reaching her own hands to meet his in a movement that made her heart flutter. “I didn’t need you to come rescue me,” she said.
“Really.” A small smile played at his lips.
“I was doing just fine,” she added loftily, now twining her fingers in his. “Could have gotten out all by myself.”
He finally dissolved into laughter, and came back to sit next to her on the bench.
“I know you didn’t need rescuing, Sylvia,” he looked at her sidelong now. “But I wanted to do it.”
He must have looked directly into her thoughts then, because he leaned forward and kissed her.
Her eyes melted shut, and her heart broke through her chest, reaching out to his.
* * *
“So, do you think the drone’s broken?” she asked, a little while later as Atlan handed back her tea. “And that’s why I can’t find it?”
The sun had slipped behind the clouds after it had reached its high point, and a slight breeze made Sylvia roll her sweater sleeves back down.
Atlan chewed his lip in what she thought was an unfairly attractive manner. “I don’t think so. They’re meant to be unbreakable. But we can ask Emrick—he’s the one with the internship in Observation, he knows a lot more about them than I do.”
“I almost forgot they were here!” laughed Sylvia. Her life in Seascape always seemed so separate from Meadowcity, so different. Yet Atlan’s presence here felt completely normal.
She wondered at the small smile seemingly pasted to her face. Despite the memories of the past few weeks, and the fear of the oncoming battle, the smile stayed.
Giving in to the furious rumbling of her stomach, they returned to the villa. She ate lunch ravenously, not even taking heed of Atlan or her mother and sister until she was full. She didn’t know if she’d ever stop being hungry after her stint in Skycity.
Knowing they might only have a few days until Greyling and his Scouts could arrive, Sylvia insisted they go talk to Emrick after lunch. It was time she put Lady Naomi’s gift to work.
Taking the sweets her mother shoved into their hands, they headed out the door. Sylvia paused after only one step.
“Where’s Emrick and the others staying?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed. She had already found out that Atlan had been boarded with the Charwood’s in the villa next door. Meadowcity was bursting with refugees from both Lightcity and Riftcity, but she had no idea where the others might have gone.
Atlan chuckled. “Good question. I’ll ask.”
Sylvia smiled as she watched Atlan’s eyes go unfocused while he undoubtedly sent a link to Emrick. It was certainly a strange thing to watch, especially here in Meadowcity.
“He’s actually over at the hydrojet now,” Atlan said, having concluded his inner conversation.
Her heart rose. She couldn’t wait to see it again—she hadn’t seen much of it when she had been inside the first time.
Sylvia led him to the path by the treewall, pointing out various villas and shops as they went. Atlan almost never took his eyes off the treewall, fascinated by the way the tree trunks were squeezed together.
Besides the occasional creak of a board overhead alerting them to the Defenders on the parapet above, it could have been an ordinary day in Meadowcity. With Atlan Blackwater at her side, and the hydrojet to which they were heading, it was anything but.
They were nearing the Citizen’s Hall and gate when Sylvia heard someone call her name. She turned to see Neve hurtling down the path toward her.
Catching herself at the last moment, Neve stopped from slamming Sylvia into a hug when she saw all the injuries. She skidded to a halt, eyes wide, her long black hair swinging merrily over her shoulders.
“Sylvia, you’re okay!” she gushed, encircling Sylvia in a gentler hug than she had originally intended.
“I’m all right,” she replied, now studying Neve’s face. They beamed at each other.
“I heard you came back the other night, with a bunch of people—what happened?” her gaze roved curiously over Atlan.
“This is Atlan Blackwater,” Sylvia offered in response to Neve’s gaze. “Atlan, meet my friend Neve Stoughton.” She paused, remembering. “She’s the one who came to Seascape with me...”
A knowing look flickered across his face, followed by an apologetic grimace as he reached out to grasp Neve’s hand.
“I’m sorry for what she...for what happened,” he said.
Sylvia was sorry too—she still had nightmare
s about getting electrocuted on the shore across from Seascape and waking in a dark cell. But Lady Blackwater hadn’t kicked her out of the city quite so swiftly as she did Neve.
Neve shrugged. “Not your fault,” she offered, then twisted her head back the way she came. “I should get back—I told Falcon I’d be right back, his boots are kind of stuck to the floor. Don’t ask,” she said in answer to Sylvia’s bemused expression.
“It’s for the armor!” she called over her shoulder as she jogged back toward the shop. “I’ll show you later!”
Beaming, Sylvia turned back to the perimeter path, Atlan by her side.
The gate wasn’t much further. They had no trouble convincing the Gate Keepers to open the heavy doors and let them out—the arrival of the hydrojet had certainly not gone unnoticed by the keepers of the gate, and it had them all peering out into the wilds at every chance they could get.
Curious glances followed them out, but no one said a word, all becoming tongue-tied by the presence of Atlan, knowing where he came from and what he represented.
Sylvia’s left hand rested on her blade, feeling slightly wrong, while the bandaged one swung at her side. The suddenness of being out in the open heightened her senses with a wave of awareness. She was keen to teach a lesson to any Scout before they had a chance to creep up on her ever again.
The woods smelled like rain, and their footsteps were quiet on the damp leaves.
They picked their way through the pathless wilds at an easy pace, in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until Atlan flung an arm out in front of her that she stopped.
She turned to look at him, and his face cracked into a grin.
“We were wondering when you two would stop by,” a voice said.
Emrick stepped out from behind a tree—no, Sylvia realized, a darkened hatch complete with stairs, leading into...nothing. An open hatch surrounded by untouched forest.
Noting the completely dumbstruck look on her face, Atlan put a hand on her shoulder blade, and said, “It’s cloaked. If you squint and tilt your head, you should see the outline of the jet.”
