"Hey, don't thank me. So far I've botched everything." I stand up a little straighter, adding, "At least I'll be able to use my Light to fight Penumbra."
"Promise me you'll be careful."
At the moment I'd promise him so much more. "I will. You have my word."
"Great. Now stop dating Killian."
I roll my eyes. I won't promise him that. "Nice try. I think he might be my soul mate. I love him, and he loves me."
"I'm sure he does. You're pretty amazing, and he isn't stupid." He glares at me to prove he means business. "But love isn't always enough, Ten."
"Actually, according to the Book of the Law, love never fails. Love is always the right answer. Love is life."
He makes a disbelieving sound. "Using my own beliefs against me...shameful! I'm as impressed with you as I am furious."
I fluff my hair. "I try."
We share an adoring smile.
A soft vibration glides along the Grid, accompanied by a sense of urgency. Frowning, I back away from Archer, as if I'm being pulled by a cord. "I think I'm needed in Troika."
His eyes glimmer with disappointment. "I understand. Go."
I can't leave him like this. Knowing he loves poems--but only poems that rhyme--I tell him, "You're tough and strong, that hasn't changed. From now on, let's not be estranged. I have to bail, there's work to be done. You lucky duck, you get to stay and have fun. But don't despair, sweet Prince, for I will come back. If only to knee you...in the sac."
He barks out a laugh. "You've gotten rusty. Work on this one, and get back to me." He waves me away. "Now, go on. Kick butt and take names the way I taught you."
I blow him a kiss with just a little bite and open my eyes. I'm sitting on the couch in my living room.
A high-pitched ring sounds in the back of my mind. An alarm... I'm being summoned into battle. Unlike last time, details register.
A massive number of MLs have attacked Prynne. Thanks to Victor's intel?
I suspect Killian's boss has changed his mind about Dior and Javier. He no longer wants me to have access to the infected pair.
I grab my swords and jump to my feet. As I run out of the cathedral and into the streets, I'm surrounded by TLs and TMs who are heading for the Gate.
I notice the people have different levels of brightness. Some sparkle, as glittery as Lifeblood. Some possess a barely detectable glow.
The guy beside me looks at me and does a double take. "You're brighter than the sun!"
I am?
Reed pushes his way to my side. "Good job. You decoded your Key. The Grid exploded with Light the moment it happened."
Yay me?
We reach the Veil of Wings, dart through and land just outside the asylum.
Wind blows, and ice crystals whirl like little missiles. Night has fallen. The moon is high and golden, the beams peeking through clouds to find and stroke me, as if summoned. They strengthen me, and I think I strengthen them; they thicken, pushing back the clouds.
Thump. An ML drops from the roof and lands in front of me. He's ready for war, a bodysuit covering him from head to toe to ensure his skin never encounters a single flicker of light.
He swings a Glacier at me. I block with one sword and strike with the other, cutting through his stomach. Not a killing blow, not for a spirit, just a disabling one. But the handle of the Cursing vibrates, and the boy turns to ash.
That kills him. The condition of his heart.
Other MLs leap at me, but they never reach me. In a blaze of Light, over a hundred TLs land around me, shielding me.
A war cry cuts through the air. Troikans clash with Myriadians. Enemy against enemy. Grunts and groans of pain sound. Metal clinks together. Flames crackle.
The fight is on.
Save the humans. "Anyone see Dior and Javier?" I shout.
"Inside!" Reed's voice rises above the others.
I fight my way into the lobby. I'm lightning fast, no one able to catch me. The Grid guides me, instructions clearer than glass--because I'm finally listening. I know when to duck, thrust and spin.
But every time I fell one soldier, two more take his place, more and more MLs concentrating on me. Can I pull off a victory? By the time I make it to the staff's quarters, I'm surrounded, one of my swords knocked out of my grip.
Zero! There's no sign of Dior or Javier. Where are they?
The ground shakes, and I stumble. Myriad has erected a Buckler. I can hear the hiss of shadows. I'm trapped, but I'm glad for it. Let's finish this!
I twirl the sword, the tip spitting out pure Light. MLs drop like flies, but of course, a new crop quickly swoops in. How much longer can I hold them off?
A whip cracks me from behind, coils around one of my blades and yanks. Before the loss has registered, I've lost my other blade, too. Fear sparks, but I tamp it down. Fear is darkness. Fear has no place in this battle.
Remember, the Grid whispers to me.
I...do. I remember the words Killian once spoke to me. His opinion of me the first time we met.
The warhorse paws fiercely, rejoicing in its strength, and charges into the fray. It laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; it does not shy away from the sword. The quiver rattles against its side, along with the flashing spear and lance. In frenzied excitement it eats up the ground; it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds. At the blast of the trumpet it snorts, "Aha!" It catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry.
I am the warhorse, and I will do what needs doing. I will rush headlong into battle, unwilling to concede defeat--even if it means the end of my Everlife.
MLs converge. Determined, I go low, kicking out my leg and spinning. Multiple soldiers hit the ground as their ankles bounce together. As I straighten, I punch, and as I punch, my Troikan symbol flares with Light. The next blow burns through the MLs chest, my fist coming out the other side--a sword of fire in my grasp.
I reel, but he reels harder. His body seizes, Light spreading through his veins, racing under the surface of his skin. He screams in agony as he topples.
"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I didn't want it to be this way."
Other MLs back away from me. Afraid of me?
A mass of TLs come in behind them and, without hesitation, renders the necessary deathblows. Had to be this way, and it's Myriad's fault. They threatened the humans; they pay.
"I'm sorry," I repeat. I open my palm, and the Pyre disappears. I swipe up my swords. The one who'd wielded the whip, stealing them, is now dead.
My gaze locks with Reed. He nods at me. Shadows move behind him. Behind all the Troikans. I shout a warning, but I'm too late. Spears pierce the TLs from behind, coming out of their chests.
Reed's knees give out, and he collapses.
"No!" I rush to him, but just before I reach him I'm propelled up, up by a force greater than myself--
Carried by a beam of Light, I blaze through the Myriadian Buckler as if it's butter. I reach a plateau, where I hover, looking down at the raging battle. Violent. Brutal. Bloody. My stomach twists. Reed is nothing but a speck on the ground.
He is spirit. He can survive. He must.
Can't lose another friend.
A dark dome surrounds a mile-long stretch in every direction. The hole I created is growing together, closing. I don't know how or why this happened.
I need to go back. I can't abandon my troops.
--Orion died with those same words on his lips.--
The feminine voice flows from a room in the Grid. Princess Mariee. She's helping me. One day, I'll be strong enough to do this.
"I'd rather die fighting than live safe," I tell her.
--Without you, we'll crumble.--
Loyalty. Passion. Liberty. "No. I don't believe that. The heart of Troika will never stop beating."
Suddenly I drop. Whoosh! My heart and stomach switch places as I blaze through the shield once again. Impact throws me but I roll and come up swinging, taking down three opponents in quick succession.
Another ML rushes into my path. Ready, I raise my swords--Sloan trips him, clearing the way for Killian.
I shout with relief, battling a painful urge to throw my arms around him. He's here, and he's alive!
His dark hair is matted to his scalp, wet with Lifeblood. He has several gashes on his face, and the collar of his shirt is ripped and hanging low, revealing thick scars around his neck. His only remaining weapon? Meredith's ring.
His gaze slides over my still-glowing arm, and he nods, as if satisfied I'm healthy and whole.
A TL sprints up behind him, sword raised, but I grab the tattered remains of Killian's shirt and push him out of the way, shouting, "No!" No more.
Loyalty.
What if Killian had been killed today? What if Reed is already in the Rest? What if the humans got caught in the crosshairs?
My determination changes course. "Stop! Everyone--just--stop." Passion.
A round, disc-like beam of Light explodes from me, shocking me as it swoops over the masses.
MLs drop to their knees, even Killian and Sloan, and TLs freeze, the battle suddenly on pause. Every eye finds me and widens.
Tensions remain high, peace a fragile thing, as delicate as a gossamer thread. Uncertainty floods me. What do I do now?
Killian lumbers to his feet, his arm extended toward his brethren, the ring-gun aimed and ready. "Hear her," he tells them. "Dare you."
Liberty. I can lead these people. I can see myself. See it, do it. My life is a book filled with blank pages, and my actions and words are the pen.
"We have fought and warred against each other, but we've only birthed misery and pain," I call. My gaze finds two Troikan Generals. Mykhail and Luciana. Both are drenched in Lifeblood, their tense posture proclaiming a fierce desire to return to battle. Next my gaze catches on Reed. He's clutching his side, but he's breathing.
Relief is a cool tide. "Myriadians, you hate us for our Light, and we despise you for your darkness. The two cannot coexist. We know this. We all know this. But why must we war because of it?"
Hear me. Please.
Silence reigns, but I'm certain not everyone likes the story I'm writing. Soldiers on edge, gearing to fight.
"I'm willing to call a truce," Sloan shouts, and I'm grateful to her.
"Die," someone calls.
The starting bell. Cries ring out, warriors blazing back into motion.
The same TL sneaks up behind Killian, intent on harm. I have a split second to make a decision. Stop the TL and save Killian, betraying my people yet again, or let Killian take the blow and pray he recovers.
No contest. I spin in front of Killian, my swords lifted and ready. Come what may. I love him. Enemy or not, I will protect him. I will fight for him until my dying breath.
I will do what's right even when others do me wrong. Saving him is right. Helping him--helping others like him--is right. If my people die, they will end up in the Rest. Happier. If Killian dies, we don't know where he'll go. I won't risk a trip to Many Ends, where he'll be trapped.
The TL pauses, unwilling to harm me.
"It's okay, lass." Killian pulls me to his side. "It's okay."
He is willing to take a killing blow simply to stop me from hurting one of my own people? An act he knows I'll abhor.
My heart constricts. This boy...he is so precious to me. He is precious, period.
I haven't forgotten my goal. Stop the war--save my enemies--one at a time.
In a show of unity, Sloan takes a post at my other side. I marvel. The girl who killed me is willing to die to save me.
The TL backs up, but others have spotted Killian the mighty Troikan-slayer, seducer of humans, a prize among prizes.
There's no way we can block them all.
Two TLs leap at Killian. Guided by the Grid, I summon a beam of Light. It rockets in my direction and catches me around the torso and ankles, yanking me flat. I hover, horizontal, a block to both Killian and Sloan.
A sword cuts through my rib cage, another through my thigh. A deluge of pain. I gnash my teeth. At least Killian and Sloan are safe.
Realizing they've hurt their Conduit, both soldiers drop to their knees.
Killian bellows with horror and rage--rage he then focuses on those responsible for my injuries.
"I will murder you for this," he hisses, taking aim.
"No," I grate. "Don't hurt them. Please." The beam gently lowers me to the ground. "Don't...hurt...stop...war..." Breathing is becoming more difficult, my lungs constricting, my throat burning. "Please."
Concern for me must outweigh the need to avenge me, because Killian doesn't shoot. He bends down to pick me up and clutches me close to his chest.
TLs reach for me, determined to wrench me from the arms of their enemy. Sloan beats them back, as fierce as a shark that has scented blood.
"She is mine." Killian's heart pounds against my temple, and it comforts me, lulls me. But we aren't in Shells, and contact is painful.
I swallow a whimper. He hangs on to me, carrying me through the battle.
"Dior..." I say. "Javier."
"Your team is winning the battle, lass, and mine are retreating. The humans will be left in the care of their TLs, perhaps even moved to a new location before I finish this sentence. But you..." Killian growls low in his throat.
"Love you, too...almost died before..." I mean to tell him I recovered then, and I'll recover now. This? This is nothing. But my body shuts down, the frigid cold too much, icicles filling my throat.
Darkness blankets my mind.
chapter twenty-four
* * *
"With violence, you ensure victory. With kindness, you welcome betrayal."
--Myriad
Warm rays of Light drift through me. Remembering how Meredith stored precious beams throughout the Grid to be used whenever needed, I do the same, filling up room after room. When I finish, no more doors before me, I open my eyes...and find I'm centered in a beam of bright sunlight.
I stretch with languid satisfaction. Memories flood me, and I go still. The battle...taking blows meant for Killian and Sloan...no one else willing to embrace peace...being carried out of the danger zone.
With a gasp, I jolt upright.
My swords are beside me, and I snatch them up, ready to...swim? I'm surrounded by water, sand and banana trees rather than armies at war.
In the trees, limbs and leaves shake as monkeys climb. Overhead, birds soar. Normal monkeys and birds. This is not Many Ends.
Salt scents the warm breeze and strokes me. All of me. I've been stripped to my bra, panties and two necklaces. My vial of manna is empty. Killian must have poured the contents down my throat and cut away my clothes.
I can't really complain about my seminakedness. I think I needed sunlight as much as manna. There isn't a scratch or bruise on me. I'm healed.
A few feet away from me, sitting pretty in his Shell, crystal waves lapping at his feet, is my rescuer. He's lost in thought, staring into the distance.
Love for him is undeniable and inescapable.
I've been fascinated with him since our first meeting. Over the ensuing weeks, as I got to know him better, that fascination only intensified.
In the beginning, I was a broken thing. A girl who'd been shattered into a million pieces of pain and heartache, betrayed by nearly every person in her life. A girl with no anchor or purpose, who'd fallen deeper and deeper into an abyss of misery. I thought I could fight my way out on my own, but indecision made me weak. I see that now.
Piece by piece, Killian and Archer carried me out of the abyss. They welded me back together and protected me no matter the cost, ensuring the girl I became would be stronger than the girl I was.
At any point, Killian could have betrayed me. He could have chosen his realm over my fragile trust, but he never did. Not once. He picked me. He put me first. I see that, too.
I matter to him.
He is the answer to
my every equation... I am Juliet to his Romeo, and oh, zero! I don't want to end up like the fictitious, doomed lovers. Forced apart because a war between our families is stronger than our love.
Nervousness pricks at me as I set the swords on the ground and fist handfuls of sand, the grains falling through my fingers.
He notices the movement and turns his head to scowl at me. Not quite the reception I anticipated.
"Where are we?" I ask.
"Fiji."
Nice. "What happened to--"
"The humans were transported to a new Troikan safe house, just as I told you. So let's focus on what you told me. You almost died before this? Tell me what happened. I'm close to blowing a fuse."
He's been sitting there stewing, hasn't he?
I scrub a gritty hand over my face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"
"Less apology, more detail. I've been waiting twenty-eight hours, lass."
What? "I've been out for more than a day?"
Even as I speak, the number twenty-eight rings inside my head. In the Book of the Law, page twenty-eight states: There is a time for planting seeds and a time for harvesting what has been planted, a time to fight and to a time to heal, to destroy and to build, to cry and to laugh, to mourn and to dance, to embrace and to turn away, to search and to wait, to keep and to discard, to tear and to sew, a time for keeping silent and a time to speak, to love and to leave...a time for war and a time for peace.
Peace...the word teases me. Still a pipe dream?
"Yes," Killian says. "More than a day. Every second has been agony. For me. I've wondered if you would wake up. I've weighed the pros and cons of taking you to Troika's Veil of Wings. I've cried, Ten. Cried like a baby--for you."
I melt for him.
As I tell him about Victor's sneak attack, he radiates aggression and menace. It's easy to imagine him as the cold-blooded killer so many Troikans believe him to be.
"I wish I'd been there, wish I'd protected you, but I can't even protect your mother," he says with a scowl. "She and a Laborer I trained are now in the Kennels. I've failed one too many times lately, and today might have sealed the deal. Myriad wants you dead, and I shielded you. I'll spin my actions to the best of my ability, but I fear my treachery has been exposed. I could be sentenced to life in the Kennels the moment I return to Myriad. I could be used against you."
My heart sinks. For Killian, my mother and even his friend. "Don't go back," I say. "Stay in the Land of the Harvest until we can set a court date."