نور آتش 5

FIVE

Mare

“Officer Samos?”

One of Davidson’s many aides turns in his seat, craning to look at Evangeline.

Officer.

The title was strange on Cal, who I’ve only ever known as a prince and a king, but for Evangeline, it seems against nature. It’s impossible to picture her as subordinate to anyone, let alone acting as a soldier. I wonder what poor Montfortan captain has to deal with giving her orders. Or if she even bothers to turn up on time to whatever she’s doing. If I weren’t sitting in the front of my delegation, I wouldn’t think twice about checking the information packet just to find out. There’s a list of delegates, with photos and summaries of each person here. I certainly pity whoever has to deal with her.

Evangeline is regal as ever, with or without a crown. She even pauses long enough to ensure the undisputed attention of the room. She flicks her single braid over her shoulder, the silver hair glinting beneath the light of the library windows.

After a moment, she speaks, ringed hands clasped in front of her.

“My correspondence with Princess Iris of the Lakelands has been most informative,” she says simply, a smirk tugging at her lips as the room explodes into noisy chaos. She lets it wash over her, enjoying every second.

The Scarlet Guard buzzes around me, not bothering to disguise their whispers. I only catch fragments, most of them some form of the word betrayal.

Farley leans in close to me, her voice rough and movements jerky. “Did you know—” she begins before my glare stops her short.

“How could I?” I growl back. “We’re not exactly pen pals.” I can’t even begin to comprehend what Evangeline is getting at, or what she might accomplish communicating with Iris. I want to assume the best of her—she did it for the cause—but my intuition tells me to prepare for the worst.

At the Nortan table, Cal’s delegation is just as confused as we are. Heads bend together and whispers fly. Julian and Cal turn to each other, and my old mentor’s lips move furiously, saying something no one but Cal can hear. Ada shifts, adding her own assumptions to Julian’s. They listen intently, eyes alight. Anabel jumps to her feet again. Apparently losing her crown has turned her into a rabbit.

“Evangeline, what is the meaning of this?” she snaps, almost scolding. “Premier?” The premier doesn’t react, stoic as ever. I have to assume he already knew—nothing happens in the Republic without his knowledge. Nor is Evangeline foolish enough to jeopardize her place here, or the safety of the people she loves.

The Montfort delegation is more reactive, whispering like the rest of us. An aide whispers to Ptolemus, who waves him off.

Dread pools in my stomach. I grit my teeth.

Evangeline raises her chin, weathering the low buzz of speculation with ease. “We’ve been exchanging letters for some weeks now. She’s been very responsive.” Ugh, she’s enjoying this too much.

“To what?” I blurt out.

She smirks at me, one silver eyebrow raised. “You of all people must know what wonderful advice I give,” she says coyly, before turning back to the room. I feel the very familiar urge to spit at her. Forgetting myself, I glance at Cal, only to find him already looking at me. He seems just as exasperated as I am. Despite our traded barbs a moment ago, we share a sigh of frustration.

“I spoke to her as one princess to another,” Evangeline tells the chamber. “I’ve seen my kingdom rise and fall, born of war and ended by war. My father refused to adapt our country, and would have never taken the pains Officer Calore is taking now with his former kingdom.” “A kingdom he already lost before he ever agreed to our terms,” Farley all but snarls.

At his seat, Cal tightens his jaw, his eyes on the papers in front of him.

Under the table, I put a hand on her wrist. “Easy,” I mutter under my breath. Cal’s got enough on his plate. There’s no use in smacking him around more than we already have.

But Evangeline acquiesces to Farley, extending a hand. “Exactly. He wasn’t able to adapt either, and lost his crown for it. I told Iris that she can avoid the same fate.” General Swan, cool as ever, surveys the former princess with narrowed eyes. “You have no right, no power to promise her anything. Premier, get your people in order.” I expect Evangeline to cut the general for speaking so sharply. To my surprise, Evangeline shrugs her off. The mountains have been good for her. “I did nothing of the sort.” “You told her to bend instead of break,” Cal muses.

Her daggered smile takes on a cold, bitter edge. “Yes, I did.”

The thoughts come as fast as I can speak them, puzzling out Evangeline’s plan. “Make Reds equal to Silvers, all the same subjects to the Lakelander crown,” I murmur, seeing the logic alongside the danger—and the defeat.

“With some representation in government thrown in for good measure,” she says, nodding at me. “I can’t speak for her mother, but Iris seems receptive. She’s seen what’s happening in the Nortan States. If the Lakelands must change, she’d rather do it in a slow slide rather than a plummet.” Cal shakes his head, his dark brow deeply furrowed. “Why would she even entertain the idea? The Lakelands are strong, far stronger than the States.” “Yes, but they aren’t stronger than this alliance, or at least they know it will be a hell of a fight.” She looks around the room, as if to marvel at our number. Our strength and power. “They certainly aren’t stronger than their own Reds, millions of them. If that fuse is ever truly lit, they’ll lose their country too.” Her eyes land on the Scarlet Guard. The generals stare back, and I try to picture what Evangeline sees. Terrorists to one, freedom fighters to another. Rebels and revolutionaries with a real chance at victory. Desperate people willing to do whatever the cause requires. “It’s a risk to keep fighting us, a real risk. Iris is clear-sighted enough to see that.” “Or she’s simply stringing you along.” Farley keeps herself in check this time, her voice measured and even. Beneath the table, her fingers curl. “Lulling us into a false sense of security before another attack. Our soldiers have been fighting tooth and nail along the river borders and in the north. If their princess has any hesitation, they certainly don’t show it.” “I don’t expect you to trust Silvers, General,” Evangeline says slowly, and for once, her familiar bite is gone. “I assume you never will. But you can at least trust our talent for survival. It’s something most of us do very well.” And just like that, the bite returns, whether she knows it or not. I feel it deeply, as if jaws have closed around my throat. Most of us. Many Silvers have died since all this began. Her father, Cal’s father—and Maven too.

One glance at Cal tells me I’m not alone.

He’s trying to forget just as I am.

And failing just as I am.

Is that why he never said a word?

I am many things, many people. And I am also the killer of Maven Calore. Is that what rises to the surface when he looks at me? Does he see his brother, dying with his eyes open? Does he see me with silver blood all over my hands?

There’s only one way to know.

No matter how much it frightens me, no matter the pain it may cause, I have to speak to him. And soon.

Thanks to Cal veering us so quickly off course, the delegations abandon the agenda entirely and spend the next two hours bickering back and forth over every point that comes our way. I should have expected he would want to dive in as soon as possible, and rile everyone up in the meantime. We find ourselves drifting from subject to subject, each one branching into another. If the Nortan military needs to be fed, who will be rationed? How are the farmers paid? What can be traded through the rivermen? What can be bought? Why are the transport fees so high? Most of the people I know in the room are warriors only, with little talent for economics or supply. Julian and Ada do most of the talking for the Nortan States, while Davidson, Radis, and a few of his government ministers serve for Montfort. General Drummer, who coordinates with the Whistle network for the Guard, has almost too much to say about shipping routes and old smuggler trails still in use. Farley hunches into an uncomfortable position for the duration, if only to keep herself from falling asleep. She interjects when she can, as does Anabel. The latter, I think, is doing her best to placate the Nortan Silvers. They look jumpy at best, liable to run from the room and the alliance at the first sign of instability. I keep silent, for the most part. My expertise is far from here.

The clock ticks, signaling two hours gone, and I exhale a long breath. This was just the overview. It was supposed to be the easy part. I can only imagine what the more specific and smaller meetings might turn into.

Everyone else seems to mirror my exhaustion, eager to get out of the room and on to the rest of their schedules. I barely have the energy to think about the trade meeting I’m supposed to attend next, where I will be of no use to anyone. Chairs scrape all over the library, and the delegations mix together. Some gather for comfort and safety—the Nortan Silvers are quick to keep to their own. Others approach each other to talk even more. Julian reaches Davidson with some effort, and the two shake hands for a long moment. I can’t imagine wanting to speak at all after this, but they both carry on without thought.

Cal remains sitting through it all, quietly arranging his papers into a neat pile. Anabel hovers over him, a nanny and a shield. She puts a hand on his arm and whispers something to coax him out of his seat.

I’m still in mine, unable to move. Rooted to the spot despite the swirl of people around me. He doesn’t look my way. Doesn’t take a single step in my direction. But his body angles, shoulders open to me for a long second. Until he turns his back and lets his grandmother lead him from the room, the rest of his delegation moving in his wake.

It’s impossible, but I think he might be more handsome than I remember.

Farley moves in a blur of blond hair and red uniform, catching Ada by the elbow as she goes. The newblood offers a weak smile until Farley pulls her into a warm embrace. The two share a grin of familiarity, a kinship we all gained those weeks at the Notch. Even if Ada is working directly with the States now, and not us, that doesn’t matter.

Still, I can’t move. It feels better to watch. Easier, somehow. My brain might be overloaded after two long hours of not-so-polite argument.

And there’s only one way I know to clear my head.

Well, two, a voice whispers, but he seems busy.

I jolt out of my seat before that voice can betray me and send me scouring the halls in search of a fallen fire king.

Tyton hasn’t left the library yet, allowing some Scarlet Guard officer to talk at him while he stares at the ceiling. I manage to catch his eye as I walk, gesturing for the door. Thankfully, he catches my meaning and politely detangles himself from the chatty Guardsman.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, falling into step beside me. We do our best to navigate the surging crowd of delegates, and I’m careful to keep my face down.

“Think you can get Ella and Rafe down to the training yard?” I reply. Quickly, I decide the trade meeting can survive without me.

He cracks a grin. “We can’t train in the yard, Barrow.”

I smile in return, remembering our weeks at the Piedmont base. Electricons require a lot more room to spar and train, our abilities too destructive when let loose. We trained there at a place called Storm Hill, set away from the sparring circles, with enough open land for even Ella to push herself. I wonder what we must resort to here.

There’s some commotion in the hall—more delegates stopping to talk or whisper. Promises offered, deals proposed. Too much politics for me. The narrower space makes it all the more difficult to move, and I wish I could spark up, just a little, to get through quicker.

“Excuse me,” I grumble sharply, trying to elbow my way around a willow-thin and slow-moving Montfortan representative. She takes no notice of me, locked in conversation with a Red delegate from the Nortan States.

Tyton puts a hand on my back to guide me through. And probably to keep me from shocking anyone. It has a calming effect, his electricity barely brushing against mine.

I relax a little, only to tense up again when a wall of warmth washes over me. My body knows what that means, even if my head doesn’t.

I almost knock right into his shoulder, my forehead inches from him. “Sorry—” I begin, my mouth moving faster than my brain.

He turns, face blank, looking down on me from a familiar height. Everything about him is familiar and inviting. The warmth, the smell, the shadow of stubble along his chin and cheeks, the flickering bronze of his eyes. Every piece of him threatens to draw me in. So I resist, doing my best to ignore how much he affects me. I square my shoulders, clench my jaw, and give him my most polite nod. It must combine into something frightening, because he pulls back, the beginnings of a smile dying on his lips.

“Good to see you, Cal,” I say, courteous as any noble he’s ever known. It seems to amuse him.

Cal nearly bows, but thinks better of it. “And you, Mare. Hello, Tyton,” he adds, reaching around me to shake hands with my companion. “No Kilorn today?” This is far from the ideal place to speak, let alone have a conversation of any importance. I grit my teeth. Half of me wants to bolt and half of me wants to latch on to him with no intention of letting go.

“He’s prepping for the refugee meeting, as Radis’s aide,” I reply, eager for the easy topic. Anything to distract from the very large elephant in the very narrow hallway.

Cal’s eyebrows rise a little. Like the rest of us, Kilorn has certainly changed. “I suppose I’ll see him in my next meeting, then.” I can only bob my head, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Good.” “Good,” he echoes, almost too fast. His eyes never leave my face. “I’ll see you . . . around?” “Yes, I’m around.”

How is it possible to sound so stupid in so few words?

Unable to stand there any longer, I give Cal one last nod and seize the opportunity to push through the crowded hallway, leaving him in my wake. He doesn’t protest or try to follow. Tyton says something behind me, probably a proper good-bye, but I keep walking. He can catch up.

When he finally does, I’ve escaped to one of the wider halls with fewer people and more room to breathe. Tyton all but snickers as he approaches, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Do you two need help speaking or something?” he murmurs as he falls into step beside me.

I snap back at him, lashing out. “As if you can lecture anyone on the ability to talk.” He only stares at me in silence, a lock of white hair falling over his eyes. “Point made.” Tyton isn’t the only one to have followed me, apparently. I whirl around at the grating sound of metal boot heels, clinking with every step.

“Can I help you, Evangeline?” I growl.

She doesn’t break stride, moving with her lethal grace and lazy detachment. Montfort has given a cold glow to her skin and a new, mischievous light in her eyes. I don’t like it one bit.

“Oh, darling,” she purrs, “I hardly require anything from you. But I agree with this one—you certainly need help where Cal is concerned. As you know, I’m always happy to oblige.” It wouldn’t be the first time. My heart squeezes at the memory of Ocean Hill and its secret passages. The choices Cal and I couldn’t make there—and the choice we made later, after Archeon. The choice I’m still trying to understand.

Evangeline just leers at me, waiting.

“I’m not here to entertain you,” I mutter, turning my back on her. Certainly she can find other ways to fill her time.

She isn’t thrown off in the slightest, even when Tyton levels a glare at her that would send most running off. “And I’m not here to pester you,” she says. “Much.” I keep walking, the other two matching my pace. “Isn’t that your primary function?” “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had to find a profession.” Evangeline pulls a face and gestures to her drab uniform. Well, drab for her. Up close, I can see she’s worked bits and pieces of iron through the green, sharpening the joints and seams. There’s iron in her hair too, tiny bits of it woven into her braid like shrapnel. “After abdicating and becoming a citizen here, I enlisted in the Montfortan military. I’ve been assigned to guard duty, specifically in the premier’s residence.” The thought of Evangeline Samos standing at doorways and following Red dignitaries around is particularly delicious. A smirk spreads across my face. “Do you want me to feel sorry for you?” “Feel sorry for yourself, Barrow—I’m your bodyguard.”

I almost choke on nothing. Next to me, Tyton forces out a scoff. “I beg your pardon?” I sputter.

She merely brushes her braid over one shoulder, gesturing for us to walk on.

“I’m so good at saving your life, I might as well get paid for it.”

Three hours later, the sun begins its early descent in the mountains, fading fast over the western range. The sweat cools on my skin, sending a shiver over me as I towel off, walking back down toward the premier’s palace. Evangeline casts annoyed looks over her shoulder, willing me to hurry up. She didn’t care for the electricon sparring session. She knows what it’s like to fight one of us—seeing the combined might of four was probably a shock for her. Rafe and Tyton follow me at a slower pace, talking to each other. Their voices echo down the mountainside, away from the electricon sparring ground upslope. Ella keeps close to my side, a towel over her shoulder and a grin on her lips. Overhead, an electric storm turns and whirls, weakening with every passing second. Soon it will be just a whisper, a shadow against the pale pink sky.

“When do you move out of the estate?” Ella asks, her blue hair vibrant against the sunlight. Her dye is fresh. Mine, not so much. The purple ends of my hair have gone dull, with bits of gray fading through.

“After the gala,” I reply. The excitement in my voice is real. “It’ll be good to finally get our own space.” After nearly a year of barracks and borrowed rooms, I know my family is eager to have a home once more.

Ella smiles kindly. “You living lakeside or slopeside?”

I curl a piece of hair around my finger, enjoying the feeling of soreness after good workout. My muscles ache and my blood sings. “Slope. The lake town house they offered was beautiful, but I like being up high.” Where I can see, where no one can sneak up on me.

She nods, thoughtful. “How is the family adjusting?”

“Better than expected. They like it here. And what’s the alternative?” The Stilts? I almost laugh. None of us would return to that trash heap, not for anything short of Shade’s return. The odd thought sobers me, and any delight from the training session fades away.

Ella notes my sudden change in mood. Her excitable air fades with my happiness, and we both lapse into easy silence.

In spite of the memories always threatening to surface, I like being here too. With my family, with newbloods like me. With people who believe the world can change, because they’ve done it already. It makes the future look less daunting.

At the rear gates to the palace, the other electricons break off. Rafe waves first, his brown skin taking on a golden edge in the sunshine. “Same time tomorrow?” “If our schedule allows,” Tyton mutters.

Ella elbows him in the ribs, trying to draw a smile from the taciturn man. “Of course, Ty, how could we forget? You with your important meetings all week, whispering and dealing—” “Wining and dining!” Rafe crows, blowing Tyton a kiss. Like Ella’s, his green hair is freshly dyed. “Tomorrow, loves!” “Tomorrow,” I echo, watching them go. I swear I’ll make time tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll keep sane otherwise.

Evangeline taps her foot loudly, impatient as ever. She inspects her nails, for once free of metal claws. “You Reds are always so sentimental.” “You should try it.” I roll my eyes, pushing past her and into the still-lush grounds of the palace. Carmadon hasn’t neglected an inch of his husband’s government home. Guards nod at us as we go, looking impressive in their dark green coats and polished boots. Evangeline even nods back to a few, both Red and Silver. I wonder if she’s starting to make friends in her new home—if she’s even capable of making friends.

“Well, do you feel better, at least?” she asks, her breath fogging in the crisp air. Leaves crunch beneath our feet.

“Are you my bodyguard or my mother?” I grumble, meeting only her twisted smirk. “Yes, I feel better.” “Good. It’s easier to protect people with a clear head.” She taps her hands together, her rings clinging together like bells. “So it’s been a while.” “Two months,” I echo, not knowing what else to say.

“You certainly seemed like you needed the time away.”

Her eyes rove over me, as if she can see through my clothes all the way to my bones. Evangeline remembers what I looked like before, the last time I saw her. She had been in Montfort only a few days, having fled Archeon and the iron grip of her father. I thought she was passing through, just another refugee of the war making her way west. Never did I think she’d stay in a place like this, a country where she was equal to any Red. Equal to me.

I suppose Elane was worth the price. Love was worth the price.

When I saw her, she had crossed half the world to be here, on foot, by boat, and finally by jet. Somehow I looked so much worse. Hollow, in shock, unable to sit still or slow down. We passed each other in Carmadon’s garden, and even she knew to give me space. For once, Evangeline Samos had no snide remarks for me, and let me walk alone.

Perhaps this is the cost for such kindness. Having her trail me everywhere.

“I’m ready to be back,” I admit. Somehow, it’s an easier thing to say to her than to Gisa or Farley or Kilorn. She’s seen me at my worst, at my darkest, when I thought the rest of my life would be Silent Stone and a cruel king’s love.

Usually, Evangeline reserves her pride for herself. Today she spares some for me. “I don’t like you,” she replies, and it sounds like another admission. An acceptance. A step toward friendship.

My response is automatic. “I don’t like you either.” It draws a rare, true smile from her. “So, what’s next on my schedule? I know I skipped out on the trade meeting, but is there something else I have to be at before sunset?” She blinks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “How should I know?”

I almost laugh. “The last time I had a bodyguard, he kept me to a schedule.” Strange. He was a Samos too.

Evangeline sighs, following my train of thought. “Lucas wasn’t all bad. He didn’t deserve to die.” Her eyes cloud a bit, darkening with memory. “And he was a better bodyguard than me. I don’t have any idea where you’re supposed to be right now.” “Brilliant.”

The mischievous glint returns, brighter than ever. She grins, showing teeth. “I do know where someone is, though.” My stomach flips. “Why do you keep nudging us at each other?”

“Well, before, it was to make sure he didn’t marry me. I mean, could you imagine? No thank you,” she says, pretending to retch. I purse my lips as we step into the palace. “Fine, to each her own.” The change from crisp, cold air to the warm halls inside falls around my shoulders like a blanket. The scent doesn’t change, though. Inside and out, the palace smells like the fresh tang of pine.

“Why do you keep nudging now?” I drop my voice. Several meetings are still in session, and too many people roam the palace for my taste.

Evangeline does no such thing. “There aren’t many who deserve to be happy. I’m certainly not one of them, but here I am.” She leads me around a corner, winding us toward the entrance hall. “I think you might deserve it, Barrow.” I gape at her. That’s one of the kindest things another person has ever said to me—and somehow it’s coming from Evangeline Samos.

Again, it feels easy to talk to her. Maybe because we aren’t friends or family. She doesn’t have the same expectations of me, or the same fears for my well-being. There’s no risk to her.

“He saw me the other night.” The words fight their way out of my mouth. “He wouldn’t speak to me.” It feels shameful to say, shameful to even care about. I was the one who left, after all. I told him to move on if he wanted to. I won’t ask you to wait for me.

And yet he didn’t say a word.

When I look at her, I expect judgment. There is nothing but Evangeline’s usual detached sneer.

“Are you physically incapable of talking to him first?” she drawls.

“No,” I mutter, sullen.

Evangeline flounces off again, a bit of a spring in her step. Her rings jingle again as she snaps her fingers, gesturing for me to follow.

“I think you need a drink, Mare Barrow.”

This sector of Ascendant is lively beneath the sunset, looking out over the lake waters from a man-made cliff. Lanterns cross over the pedestrian streets, glowing brightly already. Many bars and restaurants spill out onto the sidewalks, their chairs and tables filled with patrons returning from work. Laughter and music wash over me, both foreign sounds. Part of me wants to turn around and go back to some quiet corner of the palace. The noise is almost too much, grating on my nerves. Every happy shout could be a scream, and the smash of a glass somewhere makes my entire body jump.

Evangeline puts a cool hand to my arm, grounding me. This isn’t a battlefield. It isn’t a Silver palace either.

It reminds me of Summerton, of Archeon, of Silver cities where places like this would never allow Reds to enter, let alone serve us. But both kinds of blood are here, evident in their varying shades of skin. Cold bronze, warm ivory, icy porcelain, vibrant copper. Many still have their military uniforms, either coming off shift or enjoying break time. I recognize the white and green of politicians too, seeking refuge from the delegations.

One of the bars is quieter than the rest, and dimmer, full of alcoves clustered around a main bar. More like a tavern than a cosmopolitan meeting place. Those, I remember. Those, we had at home. It’s where I met the prince of Norta, though I didn’t know it at the time.

And, of course, that’s where Cal is sitting, his back to the street, half a drink in hand. I’d know his broad silhouette anywhere.

I glance at myself, my velvet clothing discarded for a training suit. There’s dried sweat on my body, and my hair is probably still on end from all the static electricity.

“You look fine,” Evangeline says.

I huff at her. “Usually you’re a good liar.”

She raises a fist and fakes a yawn. “Watching over you is very taxing.”

“Well, you’ve certainly earned a break,” I say, gesturing to one of the tables at another bar. “I can handle myself for an hour or so.” Thankfully, she doesn’t argue and sets off toward the loudest, shiniest, and most boisterous bar on the street. A flash of scarlet ripples at a seemingly empty table on the curb, and suddenly Elane is sitting there, a glass of wine in hand. Evangeline doesn’t look back as she waves me on. I scoff to myself—that meddling magnetron probably had her shadow girlfriend keep tabs on Cal so she could shove me at him when he was alone.

Suddenly I wish I had more time. To think of something to say, to rehearse. To figure out what the hell I want. I could barely speak to him this morning, and the sight of him last night left me haunted. What will this do to both of us?

Only one way to find out.

The seat next to him is empty, and high up. As I climb into it, I thank my body for remembering its agility. If I fall out in front of him, I really might die of embarrassment. But I stay level, and before he can even turn to look at me, I have his glass in my hand. I don’t care what it holds. I just drink, steadying my nerves. My heart hammers in my chest.

The liquid is slightly sour, but cold and refreshing, with an edge of cinnamon. It tastes like winter.

Cal stares at me like he’s seeing a ghost, his bronze eyes wide. I watch as his pupils dilate, eating up all the color. His uniform jacket is unbuttoned, hanging open to the fresh air. He doesn’t need a scarf or coat to keep him warm right now, just his own ability. I feel it at my edges, ready to wash over me.

“Thief,” he says simply, his voice deep.

I look back at him over the rim of his glass, finishing the drink.

“Obviously.”

The familiar words hang between us, meaning more than they should. They feel like an ending, and a beginning. To what, I can’t say.

“Is the great Tiberias Calore skipping out on his delegation?”

I reach, putting the glass back in place in front of him. He doesn’t move, forcing my arm to graze across his. The simple touch explodes through me, down to my toes.

The bartender passes by, and Cal motions with two fingers, silently ordering for both of us. “I’m not a king anymore. I can do as I like,” he says. “Sometimes. Besides, it’s another trade debate right now. I’m no use.” “Me neither.”

It’s a relief to know that, for now, no one else is relying on me. Not to speak, stand, or be someone else’s flag bearer. When the bartender puts a full glass down in front of me, I drink half of it in one gulp.

Cal watches my every move, a soldier surveying a battlefield. Or an enemy. “I see your brothers taught you drinking.” I grin, shrugging. “Had to do something to pass the time up north.”

Cal sips more politely and wipes the foam from his lips. “How was it?”

The Paradise Valley beckons, even now. The empty wilderness, the mountains, the quiet of falling snow beneath a full moon. It is a good place to forget yourself, to be lost. But I can’t do that anymore. “It was good for me. I needed . . .” I bite my lip. “I needed to be away.” He furrows his brow, watching every tick of my face. “And how are you?”

“Better.” Not perfect. Not whole. I’ll never be whole again. His eyes darken, and I know he sees that in me. He feels it in himself. “I still don’t sleep properly.” “Neither do I,” he replies quickly, forcing another sip of beer. I remember his nightmares, some quiet, some thrashing. About his father dying at his own hand. I still can’t imagine what that must feel like. And now I bet he dreams about Maven. The body he found, my wound in his belly. I dream about him too.

“I try not to think about him,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. A sudden chill blows over me. From Cal or the mountain, I can’t say. “It doesn’t work.” Another gulp of his drink. He breaks first, looking away from me, his gaze like embers. “I know.” After a long moment, his eyes sweep back to me. The sorrow clears from his face. “So what’s next?” I’m not sure what he’s asking, so I answer the easiest interpretation of the question.

“Proper resettlement. Gisa is supervising a move from the palace to a town house of our own, up the slope.” I point over his shoulder, gesturing in the general direction of our new home. “She said it has a beautiful view, and I guess it’s close to where we electricons can train.” One side of his mouth draws up in a grin. “I figured that storm up the mountain wasn’t natural.” I return the smile and gesture to my ragged appearance, sweat and all. “In case you couldn’t tell.” “You look beautiful. You always do.” He says it so nonchalantly, then takes another sip of his drink without blinking or breaking his gaze.

Cold air whistles past my teeth as I suck in a breath, a last gasp before the plunge. My grip tightens on the glass in my hand, until I’m afraid it might shatter. “You saw me last night,” I whisper, my voice almost lost in the tavern.

An emotion I can’t name shadows his face. “Yeah.”

I hoped for some clue in his voice or expression, but I’m left to stumble in the dark for understanding. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, trying not to sound desperate. I can’t tell if it works.

He forces his trademark grin, lopsided and easy. “You wanted me to wake up half the palace, including your dad?” “That’s not why.” At least I know how to see through his charm by now.

A blush blooms over his cheeks. I unsettle him as much as he unsettles me. Frowning, he takes another drink of his beer. A long one, as if he can just wait me out. Fat chance, Calore.

I don’t waver, staring until he can’t avoid the question anymore.

“I figured you needed every second you could get,” he admits, biting out the words. As if there is shame in them. “I didn’t want to rush you.” His warmth ripples over me, tentative and searching. “Into what?”

“Into making up your mind, Mare,” Cal huffs, throwing up one hand in exasperation. Like this is the most obvious thing in the world.

I swallow around the tightness in my throat, biting my lip. He notes every movement in me, watching my face like a battlefield. Looking for an advantage, looking for opportunity. “I did a lot of thinking up at Paradise,” I say. I feel like I’m balancing on a cliff, ready to tip in either direction, with no idea how far the drop might be.

He didn’t say a word. I won’t ask you to wait for me. The thoughts are haunting.

“I would certainly hope so,” he says, laughing darkly. He even shakes his head, then takes another gulp. His frustration doesn’t last long, quickly melting into apprehension. I shiver as his eyes dart over me, his lips parted. “And?” he adds quietly, as if holding his breath.

“And I don’t know. I still don’t know.” Before he can react, my head bows and I look at my hands twisting in my lap. If anyone at the tavern is listening or even looks our way, I don’t notice. Again, the world has narrowed to him and only him. At first I clench my teeth, to hold back the words rattling in my throat. No, I think. You don’t have to do that with him. “I missed you terribly,” I whisper. “I was so afraid to speak to you this morning.” The heat grows, cocooning me from the cold air of the mountain. “I was afraid last night,” he murmurs.

My head snaps up to find him leaning closer. The edge of my vision swims. “And now?” I ask, feeling breathless.

He doesn’t flinch, his face stone, his eyes fire. “Terrified.”

I’m all lightning, my nerves crackling beneath my skin. “Me too.”

“Where does this leave us?” One of his hands brushes mine on the bar top, but doesn’t linger.

I can only shake my head. I don’t know.

“Let me simplify.” He licks his lips, and his voice takes on a warrior edge, resolute and unyielding. “In a perfect world, without war, without the reconstruction, without the Lakelands or the Guard or any other obstacle you can think of, what would you do? What would you want for us?” I sigh, waving him off. “It doesn’t work like that, Cal.”

He never wavers, only leaning farther into my space, until our noses are just inches apart. “Humor me,” he says neatly, as if carving every letter.

My chest tightens. “I suppose I would ask you to stay here.”

His eyes flash. “Okay.”

“And I would hope that, in a perfect world, every time you looked at me, you wouldn’t see your brother’s corpse.” The last word comes out hoarsely, broken apart. I lower my gaze, looking anywhere but his face. I settle on his fingers as they twitch, betraying his own pain. “And every time I looked at you, I wouldn’t see him, and what he could have been. If I could have . . . done more.” Suddenly his hand is beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. His touch is flame, almost too hot to bear. “In a perfect world, who would you have chosen?” he rasps.

I know what he’s asking. Who I would have chosen between Cal and Maven, long ago, before we knew what his brother was, and how far he had fallen. It seems like an impossible question. Balancing two people who don’t actually exist.

“I can’t answer that,” I mutter, slowly removing his hand from my face. But I keep hold of him. “Not because I don’t want to, but because I simply can’t. It isn’t something I can ever solve.” His grip tightens on me. “I don’t see him every time I look at you,” he says. “Do you really see him every time you look at me?” Sometimes, yes.

Every time? Now?

I search him, my eyes weaving back and forth over every inch of skin I can find. Sure, callused hands. The veins of his exposed neck. A shadow of stubble already spreading over his cheeks. Strong brows, straight nose, the forever crooked smile. Eyes that were never Maven’s.

“No,” I tell him, and I mean it. “Did you wait, Cal?”

His fingers weave through mine as he grins. “I’m still waiting.”

This must be what it feels like for a gravitron to fly. Somehow my stomach drops and leaps at the same time. Despite the warmth of him all around me, I begin to shiver. “I can’t make promises,” I sputter hastily, already trying to get ahead of the admission we’ve both made. “We don’t know where the world is going. My family is here, and you have so much to do back east—” “I do,” he says, nodding. “I am also very good at flying jets.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You and I both know you can’t just commandeer a jet when you want to see me.” Though the thought does make my heart skip a beat.

“You and I both know you aren’t going to stay put here either,” he retorts, and his free hand goes to my chin again. I don’t push it away. “The future won’t let you. And I don’t think you can let yourself sit still much longer.” The words continue to spill out, as quickly as they pop into my head. Obstacles in our way, problems to be solved. “That doesn’t mean I’ll be anywhere close to the States, if and when I do decide to get involved with all this again.” Cal just grins wider. For a moment he is a second sun, beaming warmth all over me. It breaks and re-forms my heart. “If geography is really the only thing standing in our way, then I consider this settled.” Sighing, I allow just a bit of the tension in me to release. I relax into his hand, angling my head. Can it really be this easy? “Do you forgive me?” His eyes darken and his smile seems to fade. “Have you forgiven yourself?” Again he looks me over, hunting for an answer. Ready for me to lie.

It takes all my strength not to.

“No,” I whisper, expecting him to pull back. To turn away. “I don’t know if I can.” He has his own demons, as many as me. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to shoulder the burden of mine too. But he only tightens his grip, until I can’t tell where my fingers end and his begin.

“That’s okay,” he says simply, like it’s just so obvious. “We have time.” I blink as I feel myself fall from the cliff, the balance finally tipped.

“We have time,” I echo.

My heartbeat thumps, a steady rhythm. The electricity in the walls, in the lights, responds to my call, humming with energy. And then I simply shut it all off, plunging the tavern and the street into embracing darkness. It’s as easy as breathing. Voices around us rise in alarm, but I ignore them, focused on Cal instead. No one can see us now.

His lips meet mine slowly, a steady invitation. He always lets me set the pace, always gives me a chance to step back. I have no intention of slowing down, or stopping. The sounds of the tavern fade away around me and my eyes slide shut, until the only sensation is the feel of him. And the crackle of electricity beneath my skin, begging to release again.

If I could hold it back forever, I would.

When the lights return, buzzing back to life, I pull away first.

He lingers, reluctant, then smirks as he reaches for his money. But I’ve already left some on the countertop, my hands quicker than his ever will be. We grin at each other. I wish I still had the coin he gave me, that night when I stood in the shadows and waited for someone to see me for who I was.

I take his hand and lead him back up the mountainside. To his room, to mine, to the forest. To fire or lightning. It doesn’t matter.

I am almost nineteen. I have nothing but time. To choose, to heal.

To live.