“Are they armed?” Maven’s lips barely move. “Are they ready to fight?”
Farley nods. “Always. But I’m not calling them out until you’re sure the Square is ours. I don’t put much faith in Lady Barrow’s ability to charm.”
Neither do I, but I can’t say that out loud. He will always choose you. I’ve never wanted anything to be right and yet wrong at the same time.
“Kilorn wanted you to have this,” she adds, holding out her hand. In it is a tiny green stone, the color of his eyes. An earring. “He said you’d know what it means.”
I choke on my words, feeling a great surge of emotion. Nodding, I take the earring from her and raise it to the others. Bree, Tramy, Shade—I know each stone and what they mean. Kilorn is a warrior now. And he wants me to remember him as he was. Laughing, teasing me, sniffing around like a lost puppy. I will never forget that.
The sharp metal stings, drawing blood. When I pull my hand back from my ear, I can see the crimson stain on my fingers. This is who you are.
I look back to the tunnel, hoping to see his green eyes, but the darkness seems to swallow the tunnel whole, hiding him and all the others.
“Are you ready for this?” Farley breathes, looking between us both.
Maven answers for me, his voice firm. “We are.”
But Farley isn’t satisfied. “Mare?”
“I’m ready.”
The revolutionary takes a calming breath before tapping her foot against the side of the drain. One, twice, three times. Together, we turn to the Bridge, waiting for the world to change.
There’s no traffic at this hour, not even the whisper of a transport. The shops are closed, the plazas empty. With any luck, the only thing lost tonight will be concrete and steel. The last section of the Bridge, the one connecting West Archeon to the rest of the city, seems serene.
And then it explodes in bright plumes of orange and red, a sun to split the silver darkness. Heat surges, but not from the bombs—it’s Maven. The explosion sparks something in him, lighting his flame.
The sound rumbles, almost knocking me off my feet, and the river below churns as the end section of the Bridge collapses. It groans and shudders like a dying beast, crumbling in on itself as it detaches from the bank and the rest of the structure. Concrete pillars and steel wire crack and snap, splashing into the water or against the bank. A cloud of dust and smoke rises, cutting off the rest of Archeon from view. Before the Bridge even hits the water, alarms sound over the Square.
Above us, patrols run along the wall, eager to get a good look at the destruction. They shout to each other, not knowing what to make of this. Most can only stare. In the barracks, lights switch on and soldiers stir, all five thousand of them jumping out of bed. Cal’s soldiers. Cal’s legion. And with any luck, ours.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the flame and smoke, but Maven does it for me. “There he is,” he hisses, pointing to some dark shapes running from the palace.
He has his own guards, but Cal outstrips them all, sprinting for the barracks. He’s still in his nightclothes, but he’s never looked so fearsome. As soldiers and officers spill out into the Square, he barks orders, somehow making himself heard over the growing crowd. “Guns on the gates! Put nymphs on the other side, we don’t want the fire spreading!”
His men carry out the orders with speed, jumping at his every word. Legions obey their generals.
Behind us, Farley presses herself back against the wall, inching closer to her drain. She’ll turn and run at the first sign of trouble, disappearing to fight another day. That won’t happen. This will work.
Maven moves to go first, to wave down his brother, but I push him back.
“I have to do it,” I whisper, feeling a strange sort of calm come over me. He will always choose you.
I’m past the point of no return when I step into the Square, into full view of the legion and the patrols and Cal. Spotlights blaze to life on the tops of the walls, some pointed at the Bridge, others down on us. One seems to go right through me and I have to raise a hand to shield my eyes.
“Cal!” I scream over the deafening sound of five thousand soldiers. Somehow, he hears me, his head snapping in my direction. We lock eyes through the mass of soldiers falling into their practiced lines and regiments.
When he moves toward me, pushing through the sea, I think I might faint. Suddenly all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears, drowning out the alarms and the screams. I am afraid. So very afraid. This is just Cal, I tell myself. The boy who loves music and cycles. Not the soldier, not the general, not the prince. The boy. He will always choose you.