Bonds of Brass (The Bloodright Trilogy #1) - Emily Skrutskie Page 0,16

herself on the receiving end of one of Gal’s pranks when she was still a cadet.

Gods of all systems, so that’s how he was able to get away with—

The first things I notice are the scuffmarks. Long streaks of peeled rubber tell the story of boots dragged across the floor unwillingly. The bed’s a little untidy, but for Jana that speaks volumes.

I step into the room, turn, and find the most telling marks of all. The wall by the door is pocked with the impact scars from three blaster bolts.

Someone removed Jana from this room. Whoever it was, she fought them tooth and nail to stop it. Whoever it was, they were confident enough that they didn’t feel a need to mask what happened here. Whoever it was must run this place.

I slip back out the door, closing it carefully behind me, and duck into the stairwell. Leaning against the wall, I drop into the dark behind my eyelids.

Yesterday, I acted on instinct. Today it’s a choice—a choice I’ve spent so long burying that I’d fooled myself into thinking I’d escaped it entirely. But Archon’s not as dead as I once thought, and the apathy that’s cloaked me ever since the empire fell is starting to constrict. Now I have to decide what’s more important: the empire that built me up with promises of heroics and then abandoned me, or the boy who had to be dragged away from my side, who’s fought for me like no one has.

The boy who talks his way out of fights like a rational human being.

The boy whose stupid, pacifistic essays I’ve been proofreading and turning in for years.

My breath catches in my throat.

Now I see the long game—the one he’s been secretly playing the whole time. Gal’s spent his entire academy career training himself not to emulate his parents’ violence but to rip its teeth out.

My choice is as clear as the void. I gotta get him off this planet. I gotta get his ass on the throne.

But first things first, I really need that drink.

CHAPTER 4

THREE HOURS LATER, I’ve managed to waste five shots of polish over my shoulder and gained an entourage nearly thirty people strong. The cantina is packed to bursting, and true to her word, Rin’s buying—not just for me, but for every cadet in the bar. Gods of all systems bless her parents’ deep pockets. As far as I know, they’re the heads of a mining corporation that struck exclusive rights to one of the newly acquired Archon belts, although Gal has gone and made it difficult to take even that at face value.

“TO THE HERO OF THE EMPIRE,” Ollins roars from the top of a table, and the crowd roars back at him, hoisting their drinks in the air. The legal imperial age is eighteen, but the academy cantina has always made an exception for upperclassmen—otherwise it’d be full of sad officers and no money.

A few of those officers glower at the rest of us from a table in the back corner. My eyes are on them as I fake another sip. That’s right. Dumb, drunk cadets. No reason to sound any alarms.

I wish there weren’t so much on my mind. I want to soak this in. If it were any other night, Gal would be by my side, matching me drink for drink and lamenting that we’re less than a year away from graduating to the officer ranks. Some of us will stick around for command training at the academy, harvesting the opportunities present in the new territories, but many will be assigned closer to the interior, where the appointments are more prestigious and the competition is a thousand times more cutthroat.

For now, the air is sweaty and electric, my drink is cold enough to numb my hand, and the noise and crush of people is overwhelming. Some aggressive, melodic Umber rock anthem blasts from the speakers—the type of music no one but the older officers and Hanji enjoys unironically. Two boys are making out in the corner, anonymous in the blur of bodies stuffing the cantina, and a pang of cheer-stained jealousy twinges in my chest.