through me. They were assassins. Classmates. Archon kids like me.
Obliterated.
The clatter of debris on my hull shocks me back into reality. This is what happens to everyone who goes up against the Umber Empire. To suited knights and generals and even the imperials themselves. You don’t become a hero.
You just get killed.
The six remaining Vipers scatter, pursued by a volley of heat-seekers that scream up from beneath us. We don’t have time to see what happens to them. The ground’s rolling up fast, and the spires of the academy’s buildings are rising to meet us. I punch my thrusters and adjust my drag flaps, and Gal falls in at my wing. Our approach cuts wide across the plains and finally—finally—there’s the tarmac of Runway Three.
I extend my Viper’s landing gear. Pull my nose up. Yards. Feet. Inches. The Viper hits the pavement hard, and I feel something snap. Hear the shriek of rending metal. Know without seeing that I’ve ripped my wheels off.
“Base to Gold One, you’re dragging fire,” Hanji chirps helpfully in my ear.
My flight suit’s coolant isn’t enough—the cockpit’s cooking as my Viper skins its belly on the tarmac. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. My fingers fumble on the controls, scrabbling for the release.
There. Grab. Pull. The cockpit pops open, my seat ejects, and I catapult into the mercifully cool air. A whoop escapes my lips as I watch my flaming ship skitter away beneath me, outstripped by Gal’s Viper. He streaks down the runway unhindered, leaving me in the dust and ashes. My parachutes deploy, yanking me out of my fall. I try to twist, to direct my descent, but I have no control—I’m at the mercy of the cold winds blowing in off the prairie.
By the time I touch down, Gal’s already out of his Viper. I land fifty yards away from him and immediately start tearing at my restraints. Farther down the tarmac, people are swarming Gal. First a doctor, for whom everyone clears the way, then a security team flanked by high-level academy officials.
I stagger to my feet. My legs shake beneath me. I have to get to Gal, have to talk, have to wrap my head around what’s happening. Hanji chatters in my ear, but I rip my helmet off and tear out my earpiece before I can register what she’s saying.
I stumble down the tarmac. A fire crew screams past me, bound for the wreckage of my Viper. As the siren fades, I start to make sense of the hubbub surrounding Gal. They’re talking about putting him in isolation. Summoning the governor Berr sys-Tosa from his winter estate on Imre, an inner world of the system. Arranging for transport to the Imperial Seat in the distant Umber interior.
Gal stands in the middle of the storm, his uncertain gaze flicking from face to face. His eyes find mine, and he lunges toward me. One of the security officers clamps a hand down on his shoulder. “Your Majesty,” she says urgently.
I try to push through the people, but someone grabs me. “Gal,” I wheeze, still trying to recover from the shock of the ejection and landing. None of this makes sense. I need him to make this make sense.
“Ettian, something’s—” Gal breaks off abruptly. “I…I’m so sorry.”
I’m so used to brushing those words off. So used to forgiving him instantly. But now, for once, as the security officers bundle my best friend away to whatever fate awaits him, I stand in the hollow silence left over and let him mean it.
CHAPTER 3
THE INSTRUCTOR’S ON her third iteration of my name by the time I realize she’s calling on me. “Cadet Nassun,” she declares. “We’d appreciate your input, if you’d be kind enough to join us.”
I blink. Thirteen pairs of eyes blink back at me. I’m used to dozing off in this particular leadership seminar, but our numbers have decreased dramatically this morning, leaving it remarkably easy to catch me zoning out. Four of us were among the twenty shredded in the sky by academy missiles, and the usual occupant of the empty seat to my left is sitting gods-know-where, waiting for someone