Glass Sword

27

This is not the Blackrun.

Instead, Cal pilots a massive cargo jet, built to carry heavy transports or machinery. Now the cargo bay holds over three hundred escaped prisoners, many injured, all shell-shocked. Most are newbloods, but there are also Silvers among them, keeping to themselves, biding their time. For today at least, they all look the same, cloaked in rags, exhaustion, and hunger. I don’t want to go down to them, so I stick to the upper level of the jet. At least it’s quiet in this section, separated from the bay by a narrow stairwell, and from the cockpit by a closed door. I can’t make myself move past the two bodies at my feet. One lies beneath a white sheet, stained only by the blossom of red blood over his pierced heart. Farley kneels over him, frozen, a hand under the sheet to clutch my brother’s cold, dead fingers. The other corpse I refuse to cover.

Elara looks ugly in death. Lightning twisted her muscles, pulling her mouth into a sneer even she couldn’t muster while alive. Her simple uniform is cooked to her skin, and her ash-blond hair is almost gone, burned away until only stringy patches remain. The other bodies, her guards, were just as deformed. We left them rotting on the runway. But the queen is still unmistakable. Everyone will know this corpse. I’ll make sure of it.

“You should go lie down.”

The body unsettles Kilorn, that much is clear. I don’t know why. We should be dancing on her bones. “Let Sara check you out.”

“Tell Cal to change course.”

He blinks at me, perplexed. “Change course? What are you talking about? We’re going back to the Notch, back home—”

Home. I scoff at such a childish word. “We’re going back to Tuck. Tell him, please.”

“Mare.”

“Please.”

He doesn’t move. “Have you gone crazy? Do you remember what happened back there, what the Colonel will do to you if you come back?”

Crazy. I wish. I wish my mind would snap from the torture my life has become. That would be such a relief, to simply go mad. “He can certainly try. But there are too many of us now, even for him. And when he sees what I bring him, I doubt he’ll refuse us this time.”

“The body?” he breathes, visibly shaking. It’s not the corpse scaring him, I realize quietly. It’s me. “You’re going to show him the body?”

“I’m going to show everyone.” Again, firmer. “Tell Cal to change course. He will understand.”

The jab stings Kilorn, but I don’t care. He hardens, drawing back to do as I tell him. The cockpit door shuts behind him, but I barely notice. I’m preoccupied with more important things than petty insults. Who is he to question my orders? He’s no one. A fish boy with only good luck and my foolishness to protect him. Not like Shade, a teleporter, a newblood, a great man. How can he be dead? And he is not the only one. No, there are certainly others left to make the prison their tomb. We’ll only know when we land, and can see who else escaped on the Blackrun. And we will be landing on the island compound, not trekking to some lonely, backwoods cave.

“Did your seer tell you about this?”

The first words Farley’s spoken since we left Corros. She hasn’t wept yet, but her voice sounds hoarse, as if she spent the last few days screaming. Her eyes are horrible, ringed with red, the irises a vivid blue.

“That fool, Jon, who told us to do this?” she continues, turning to face me. “Did he tell you Shade would die? Did he? I suppose that was an easy price for the lightning girl to pay, so long as it meant more newbloods for you to control. More soldiers in a war you have no idea how to fight. One measly brother for more followers to kiss your feet. Not a bad trade, was it? Especially with the queen thrown in. Who cares about a dead man no one knows, when you could have her corpse?”

My slap sends her back a step, more in surprise than pain. She catches the sheet as she falls, pulling it sideways, revealing my brother’s pale face. At least his eyes are closed. He could be only sleeping. I move to tug the sheet back into place—I can’t look at him long—but she hits me with her shoulder, using her considerable height to drive me into the wall.

The cockpit door bangs open, and the two boys rush out, drawn by the noise. In an instant, Cal takes Farley down, tapping the back of her knee so she stumbles. Kilorn is less fancy, simply wrapping both his arms around me, hoisting me clean off the ground.

“He was my brother!” I yell at her.

She screams her response. “He was far more than that!”

Her words trigger a memory.

When she doubts. Jon told me to tell her something. When she doubts. And Farley certainly doubts now.

“Jon did tell me something,” I say, trying to push off Kilorn. “Something for you to hear.”

She lunges, reaching, and Cal pushes her back down again. He gets an elbow to the face for the trouble, but doesn’t relinquish his firm hold on her shoulders. She isn’t going anywhere, yet she continues to struggle.

Farley, you never know when to quit. I used to admire you for it. Now I only pity you.

“He told me the answer to your question.”

It stops her short, her breath coming in tiny, frightened puffs. She stares, wide-eyed. I can almost hear her heart beating.

“He said yes.”

I don’t know what that means, but it levels her. She slumps, falling on her hands, and bows her head behind a short curtain of blond hair. I see the tears anyway. She isn’t going to fight anymore.

Cal knows it too, and backs away from her shaking form. He almost trips on Elara’s deformed arm, and shies away from it, flinching. “Give her space,” he murmurs, and seizes me by the arm in a bruising grip. He all but drags me away, despite my protests.

I don’t want to leave her. Not Farley, but Elara. Despite her wounds, her burns, and her glassy eyes, I don’t trust her corpse to stay dead. A foolish worry, but I feel it all the same.

“By my colors, what’s the matter with you?” he snarls, slamming the cockpit door behind us, shutting out Farley’s low sobs and Kilorn’s scowl. “You know what Shade was to her—”

“You know what he was to me,” I reply. Being civil isn’t at the top of my list, but I try. My voice quivers anyway. My closest brother. I lost him before, and now again. This time he isn’t coming back. There’s no coming back. “You don’t see me screaming at people.”

“You’re right. You just kill them.”

Breath hisses between my teeth. Is that what this is about? I almost laugh at him. “At least one of us can.”

I expect a screaming match at the very least. What I get is worse. Cal takes a step back, bumping against the instrument panel, trying to put as much distance as he can between us. Usually I’m the one to pull away, but not anymore. Something breaks behind his eyes, betraying the wounds he hides beneath his flaming skin. “What happened to you, Mare?” he whispers.

What hasn’t happened to me? A single day without worry, that’s what. All to prepare me for this, for the fate I bought myself with the mutations of my blood—and the many mistakes I’ve chosen to make, Cal included. “My brother just died, Cal.”

But he shakes his head, never looking away from me. His gaze burns. “You killed those men in the command center, you and Cameron, while they begged. Shade wasn’t dead then. Don’t blame this on him.”

“They were Silver—”

“I am Silver.”

“I am Red. Don’t act like you haven’t killed hundreds of us.”

“Not for me, not the way you kill. I was a soldier following orders, obeying my king. And they were just as innocent as I was when my father was alive.”

Tears prick my eyes, begging to be spilled. Faces swim before me, murdered soldiers and officers, too many to count. “Why are you saying this to me?” I whisper. “I did what I had to, to stay alive, to save people—to save you, you stupid, stubborn prince of nothing. You of all people should know the burden I carry. How dare you try to make me feel guiltier than I already do?”

“She wanted to turn you into a monster.” He nods toward the door, and the twisted body behind it. “I’m just trying to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Elara is dead.” The words taste sweet as wine. She’s gone, she can’t hurt me. “She can’t control anyone anymore.”

“But still, you feel no remorse for the dead. You do whatever you can to forget them. You abandoned your family without a word. You can’t control yourself. Half the time you run away from leadership, and the other half you act like some untouchable martyr, crowned in guilt, the only person who’s really giving herself to the cause. Look around you, Mare Barrow. Shade’s not the only one who died in Corros. You are not the only one to make sacrifices. Farley betrayed her father. You forced Cameron to join us against her will, you chose to ignore everything but Julian’s list, and now you want to abandon the kids back at the Notch. For what? To step on the Colonel’s neck? To take a throne? To kill anyone who looks at you the wrong way?”

I feel like a child being scolded, unable to speak, to argue, to do anything but keep from crying. It takes everything to keep my sparks contained.

“And you still hold on to Maven, a person who doesn’t exist.”

He might as well put a hand around my throat and squeeze. “You looked through my things?”

“I’m not blind. I watched you take the notes off the bodies. I thought you’d rip them up. But when you didn’t—I suppose I wanted to see what you were going to do. Burn them, throw them away, send them back dipped in Silver blood—but not keep them. Not read them while I slept next to you.”

“You said you missed him too. You said so,” I whisper. I have to refrain from stamping my foot like a frustrated child.

“He’s my brother. I miss him in a very different way.”

Something sharp scrapes my wrist, and I realize I’m scratching myself in my misery, creating a physical pain to mask the agony inside. He watches, conflicted.

“Every single thing I did, you stood behind me,” I say. “If I’m turning into a monster, then so are you.”

He drops his gaze. “Love blinds.”

“If this is your idea of love—”

“I don’t know if you love anyone at all,” he snaps, “if you see anything out there but tools and weapons. People to manipulate and control, to sacrifice.”

There is no possible defense to such an accusation. How can I prove him wrong? How can I make him see what I’ve done, what I’m trying to do, what I’ve become to keep everyone I care about safe! How badly I’ve failed. How terrible I feel. How the scars and memories ache. How deeply he’s wounded me with such words. I cannot prove my love for him, or Kilorn, or my family. I cannot put such feelings into words, nor should I have to.

So I don’t.

“After the Archeon bombing, Farley and the Scarlet Guard used a Silver news broadcast to claim responsibility.” I speak slowly, methodic and calm in my explanation. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. “I’m going to do the same now, with the queen’s body. I’m going to show every single person in this kingdom the woman I killed, and the people she kept locked up, newblood and Silver. I am finished letting Maven control this game by spouting his lies to the kingdom. What we’ve done isn’t enough to bring him down. We need to let the country do it for us.”

Cal’s mouth gapes open. “Civil war?”

“House against house, Silver against Silver. Only Reds will stand united. And we will win because of it. Norta will fall, and we will rise, Red as the dawn.” A simple, costly, lethal plan on both sides. But a step we must take. They forced us down this road long ago. I am only doing what must be done. “You can collect the Notch children after we land in Tuck. But I need the Colonel, and I need his resources to get this in motion. Do you understand that?”

He barely nods.

“And after, well, I will go north, to the Choke, to the ones I’ve so willingly abandoned. You can do as you like, Your Highness.”

“Mare.” He grazes my arm and I flinch away, almost hitting the wall.

“Don’t touch me anymore.”

The words sound like a slamming door. I suppose they are.

Tuck is quiet and disgustingly bright. No clouds, no wind, just brisk autumn and sunlight. Shade shouldn’t have died on such a beautiful day, but he did. Too many did.

I am the first to step down from the cargo plane, with two covered stretchers close behind. Kilorn and Farley hover by one, each of them resting a hand on Shade. But the other stretcher is what I care about now. The men holding her up seem afraid of her body, just like I was. The last few hours of quiet reflection, staring at Elara’s cold corpse, have been a strange comfort. She is not going to wake up. Just like Cal will never speak to me again, not after everything we said to each other. I don’t know where he is in the line, or if he’s even coming down at all. I tell myself not to worry. Thinking about him is a waste.

I have to shield my eyes to see the Colonel’s blockade across the runway. He perches atop a medical transport, surrounded by nurses in white shifts. Ada must have radioed ahead to tell him we would sorely need help. Her Blackrun is already here, the only dark shadow in sight. When the first of the prisoners hit the runway behind me, the familiar black ramp descends from the other jet. Fewer than I thought get out, following Ada. She begins the brisk march toward the wall of armed Lakelanders, stoic Guardsmen, and curious onlookers. Quietly, I curse myself. My family will be back there, waiting to see their children, but they’ll find only one of us.

You don’t care about your family. Maybe Cal was right, because I certainly forget them more than any sane person should.

“That’s far enough, Miss Barrow,” the Colonel barks, holding up a hand. I do as he asks, halting five yards away. From this close, I can see the guns pointed at us, but more important, the men behind the bullets. They’re alert, but not on edge. They have no kill orders, not yet. “Have you come to return what you’ve stolen?”

I force a laugh, putting us both at ease. “I come with a gift, Colonel.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Is that what you call these”—he searches for the right word to describe the ragged folk following me—“people?”

“They were prisoners until this morning, at a secret facility called Corros. Jailed by the command of King Maven, left to be experimented on, tortured, and murdered.” I glance behind me, expecting to see broken hearts and minds. Instead, I see unflagging pride. The little girl, the one who almost fell off the catwalk, looks close to tears, but her tiny fists clench at her sides. She won’t cry. “They are newbloods like me.” Behind the girl, a protective teenager with too-pale skin and orange hair stands like her guard. “And Silvers too, Colonel.”

He reacts as I expect him to. “You fool, you brought Silvers here?!” he shouts, panicking. “Ready guns!”

The line of Lakelanders, two deep, and probably about twenty wide, does as he commands. Their guns click in unison, sliding bullets into chambers. Ready to fire. Behind me, the prisoners flinch, drawing back. But no one begs. They are done begging.

“Hollow threats.” I fight the urge to smile.

His hand flies to the pistol at his hip. “Don’t try me.”

“I know your orders, Colonel, and they are not to kill the lightning girl. Command wants me alive, don’t they?” I remember Ellie Whistle, one of many Guardsmen instructed to help me in my endeavors. She was no match for the Colonel, but the Colonel is no match for Command, whoever they may be.

The Colonel loses some of his edge, but doesn’t back down.

“Bring her forward,” I snap, looking to the stretchers. The two men do as I say as quickly as they can. They lay Elara’s stretcher at my feet. The guns follow their every shaking step. I feel the crosshairs even now, on my heart, my brain, over every inch.

“Your gift, Colonel.” I toe the stretcher, nudging the body beneath the white sheet. “Don’t you want to see it?”

His good eye flashes, almost too quick to discern. It finds Farley in the crowd, and the crease in his brow disappears a little. With a sickening jolt, I realize why. He thought I killed her.

“Who is it, Barrow? The prince? Have you murdered the best bargaining chip you had?”

“Hardly,” a voice calls from the crowd. Cal.

I don’t turn to look at him, electing to focus on the Colonel instead. He holds my gaze, never wavering. Slowly, one hand raised, the other reaching, I pull away the sheet, laying her out for everyone to see. Her limbs have gone stiff. Her fingers are especially twisted, and bits of bone show through the flesh of her right hand. The gunmen are the first to react, lowering their weapons a little. One or two even gasp, covering their mouths to stifle the sound. The Colonel is completely silent and still, content to stare. After a long moment, he blinks.

“Is that who I think it is?” he says hoarsely.

I nod. “Elara of House Merandus, Queen of Norta. Mother to the king. Killed by newbloods and Silvers, in the prison she built for them.” That explanation should stay his hand for the moment.

His red eye gleams. “What do you plan to do with this?”

“The king and this country deserve a chance to say good-bye to her, don’t you think?”

The Colonel looks just like Farley when he smiles.

“Again,” Colonel Farley barks, moving back into position.

“My name is Mare Barrow,” I tell the camera, trying not to sound foolish. After all, this is the sixth time I’ve introduced myself in the last ten minutes. “I was born in the Stilts, a village in the Capital River Valley. My blood is Red, but because of this”—I stretch out my hands, allowing two balls of sparks to rise—“I was brought to the court of King Tiberias the Sixth, and given a new name, a new life, and made into a lie. They called me Mareena Titanos, and told the world I was Silver born. I am not.” Flinching, I draw the knife across my palm, over already torn flesh. My blood winks like rubies in the harsh light of the empty hangar. “King Maven told you this was a trick.” Sparks dance through the gash. “It is not. And neither are the others like me, all of you born Red with strange, Silver abilities. The king knows you exist, and he is hunting you down. I tell you now, run. Find me. Find the Scarlet Guard.”

Next to me, the Colonel straightens proudly. He wears a red scarf around his face, as if his bleeding eye wasn’t identification enough. But I’m not complaining. He’s agreed to take in the newbloods, having seen the error of his ways. He now knows the value—and the strength—of people like me. He can’t afford to make enemies of us too.

“Unlike the Silver kings, we see no division between ourselves and other Reds. We will fight for you, and we will die for you, if it means a new world. Put down the ax, the shovel, the needle, the broom. Pick up the gun. Join us. Fight. Rise, Red as the dawn.”

The next part turns my stomach, and I want to scrub my skin with acid. When my fingers knot in her frayed hair, holding her head up to face the decrepit, sputtering camera, I’m fighting tears. As much as I hate her, I hate this more. It feels against nature, against anything good I might have left inside myself. I’ve already lost Cal—thrown him away—but now I feel I’m losing my soul. And yet I speak the words I must. I believe in them, and they help a little.

“Fight, and win. This is Elara, Queen of Norta, and we have killed her. This war is not impossible, and with you, it can be won for good.”

I hold my position, trying my best not to blink. Tears will fall if I do. I think of anything but the corpse in my hands. “Even now, Guardsmen are leaving their strongholds to wait for anyone to answer our call.”

“Arm yourselves, my brothers and sisters,” the Colonel says, stepping forward. “You outnumber your masters, and they know it. They fear it. They fear you, and what you will become. Look to the Whistles in the woods. They will lead you home.”

After six attempts, we finally finish in perfect unison. “Rise, Red as the dawn.”

“As for the Silvers of Norta.” I speak quickly, tightening my grip on Elara. “Your king and queen have lied to you—and betrayed you. The Scarlet Guard liberated a prison this morning, and inside we found Red and Silvers both. Missing members of House Iral, Lerolan, Skonos, Jacos, and more. Wrongfully imprisoned, tortured with Silent Stone, left to die for nonexistent crimes. They are with us now, and they are alive. Your lost ones live. Rise to help them. Rise to avenge the ones we could not save. Rise, and join us. For your king is a monster.” I glare deep into the camera, knowing he will see this. “Maven is a monster.”

The Colonel gapes at me, affronted. The camera stops. He tears away his scarf in his anger. “What are you doing, Barrow?”

I stare back at him. “I’m making your life a whole lot easier. Divide and conquer, Colonel.” I point to the crew working the camera, not bothering to remember their names. “You go to the Silver barracks, get some film of them. Don’t show the guards. Mark my words. This will set the country on fire, and even Maven won’t be able to put it out.”

They don’t need to speak to show they agree. I turn on my heel. “I’m done.”

The Colonel follows me, dogging my steps even when I push my way out of the hangar. “Barrow, I didn’t say we were finished—” he growls, but when I stop short, so does he. I don’t need lightning to frighten people. Not anymore.

“Make me turn around, Colonel.” I extend my arm, daring him to pull. Daring him to test me. “Go on.”

Once, this man put Cal in a cell. He leads who knows how many soldiers, and killed however many more men. I don’t know how many battles he’s seen, or how many times he’s cheated death.

He has no right to be afraid of a girl like me, but he is. I returned to Tuck his equal, better than his equal, and he knows it.

I spin to face him slowly, and only because it now suits me to do so. “What changed you, Colonel? Because I know it wasn’t your own good sense, or even the orders of your Command.”

After a long, drawn-out moment, he nods. “Follow me. They’ve been asking to meet you.”