of my neck. “Jay—thank you. Thank you for protecting Peter. Thank you for worrying about me. Thank you for being okay.”
“Those aren’t things you have to thank me for.”
“I’m doing it anyway.”
For some reason, I begin to cry. Lai leans her forehead against mine as tears start to streak her own cheeks. I close my eyes and we stay like that for a long time.
Eventually, Erik returns and rests a hand on both our shoulders. When Al rejoins us, she scoffs once, then wraps us all in a hug. Despite my shakiness and everything that’s happened, a laugh actually chokes its way out of me. I lean into my friends, soaking in their presences, the fact that we’re all here, that it’s over.
* * *
We set up a temporary home base in Sakchai’s Gate. Everything is a blur of motion as doctors and nurses rush through the beds already filled with wounded. Shouts for medicine and tools pierce the air. The fighters who’ve already returned but aren’t terribly hurt attempt to help as best they can, assisting with moving the injured, carrying boxes of new medicine, bringing over buckets of water. Cal, Gabriel, and Joan keep together in a corner, under watch and restrained with starlight handcuffs until the immediate aftermath of the battle has been dealt with.
Lai runs back and forth dispensing orders, helping where she can, Peter and Clemente rushing around to do the same. There’s little I can do with my leg but sit and wait with Al and Erik. The aftershock of the battle still hums through me, and I’m grateful for their company.
Messengers from Austin trickle in slowly over the next few hours. Amid riots and protests all over the sector, the military successfully pulled a coup d’état against the High Council. All Councilors have been arrested and taken in for questioning. General Austin and a few hastily chosen elected officials with clean records have been appointed temporarily in charge of the sector and matters regarding the investigation. They’re promising justice—and immediate protection laws for all Nytes affected by the Councilors’ experiments.
You can feel it in the air, even down in the Gate’s hangar, so far removed from everything going on in the city. Cheers rend the air. Strangers hug one another. Some of the Order members throw their red cloths up in the air, and before long, everyone is doing it. When they drift down, people just keep tossing them back up, crying through their triumphant shouts.
40
LAI
THIS MORNING, THE new protection laws for the gifted were officially announced and put into effect. Our team of representatives, which has been working with the Legislators in the creation of the laws, has been out all day at official events, meetings, and press junkets—but none of us have been looking forward to anything so much as celebrating with all our friends. The main hall in the Order’s underground tunnels is filled with bright lights, loud laughter and cheers, and a general air of happiness so thick you could choke on it.
We’ve barely had time to eat between all the hectic events of the day, so Jay, Al, Erik, and I claim a corner in the hall and fill it with loaded plates of food—the most we’ve had to eat in months. Trist, Peter, and Syon drift in and out, but for the most part, they’re off enjoying themselves.
“Gods, I thought that last interview would never end,” Erik groans as he stuffs a whole bread roll in his mouth. He’s still adjusting to being able to eat full meals after the rebels’ months-long shortage of food, and we all have to remind him to take it slow. At least his and Peter’s giddy food fight from earlier is over. I had to put my foot down and send Peter away after he nailed Erik with a tomato and gleefully shouted, “Tomato surprise!” But I have to admit, it was nice seeing Peter joking around again. I haven’t seen that side of him since Paul died.
“Why were we even chosen to represent the gifted in the military, anyway?” Al asks. “Weren’t we kicked out?”
“Likely as a way to restore our credibility and reputation within the sector,” Jay says thoughtfully. He blows on his soup. “Otherwise we’d still be traitors. Besides, we were closest to the action in the end.”
“As long as they don’t ask us to actually come back to the military,” Al snorts. “Like hell I’m fighting for them again.”
“Idiot, the war’s over,” Erik says around another bread