me, agony in his eyes. The sun has sunk beyond the edge of the world, and all the stars, those beautiful, long-dead stars we looked at together, are out above.
And I understand—finally, really understand—what they need me to do.
I have to let him go.
I have to burn him away.
I have to prove to Esh that my ties don’t define me or hold me back. That when the moment comes to trigger the Weapon, for the good of all around me, I’ll be willing to sacrifice anyone and anything.
My eyes trace out Kal’s features in the starlight.
They’ve become as familiar as my own in the last months.
My mind’s a whirlwind of blue and silver, and I know what needs to be done. I have to control it and refine it, shape it into a knife’s blade to cut the ties between us. He knows as well as I do. What’s at stake here. Everything hanging in the balance.
“Kal,” I whisper.
You must, Esh replies.
“Be’shmai?” Kal breathes.
That word.
That beautiful, wonderful, alien word. When we first spoke about it on Octavia, Kal said there wasn’t an adequate human translation for it. He looks at me now, silently making me the same offer of his heart that he does every day. And in that moment, I know that although I might not be Syldrathi, and though I’ll never know what it’s like to feel the Pull, I do know what it is to fall in love. I know that I’ve accepted his heart, and given him mine in return.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
And I know that there is no universe in which I’m stronger without him.
“I can’t,” I declare, turning to Esh.
Silence rings in the Echo. I feel Kal’s heart surging behind me, the ripples those two words send spilling across this entire plane.
“I won’t,” I say.
You MUST, Esh commands.
“No,” I say.
No.
Because I won’t do what Esh wants.
Not because I refuse to sacrifice myself.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because every moment I’ve spent here, in training and with Kal, has led me to the same bone-deep truth. Tomorrow might be worth a million yesterdays. But a tomorrow without him isn’t worth anything at all.
You will not have the strength, Esh says, something close to fury in its voice. If you are not emptiness, you will fail.
“I guess we’ll see about that,” I say.
You are the Trigger. THE TRIGGER IS YOU.
“Yeah,” I nod. “But I’m Aurora Jie-Lin O’Malley, too.”
I reach for Kal’s hand.
“And I’m willing to fight for what I love.”
I take hold of the power. Willing us gone, I feel a severing, a sundering, a tear as wide as the sky and as deep as forever. And in a heartbeat, two heartbeats, mine and his, we blink out of the Echo and back into our bodies aboard the Zero.
And the first thing I feel, even before I open my eyes, is his hand in mine.
27
TYLER
They bring Saedii back into our cell a while later.
The door opens and the marines throw her, limp and boneless, to the deck. The sound of her body slapping the floor, the sight of her—it turns my stomach. They’ve torn the medi-wraps off her legs. The bruises on her thighs are faded, but the ones on her face are fresh. Her lip is split, her eye swollen, one hand pressed to her ribs. The black paint across her eyes and at her lips is smudged, running. Her immaculate braids have come loose, and a curtain of black hair covers her face as she tries to drag herself up.
I rise to my feet, glaring at the marines. Saedii is an officer of the enemy. A Templar of the Unbroken. I saw the kill counts during the battle on the Andarael. I know most of these TDF troopers probably lost friends in that attack. But still, there are rules here. There’s a line you don’t step beyond. That’s supposed to be the difference between us and them.
“Maker’s breath, what did you do to her?”
The marines don’t even look at me. The door slides shut without a sound, leaving Saedii and me alone.
“Here,” I murmur, leaning down to help. “Let me—”
“Do not touch me!” she roars. Her fingers are curled like claws, black fingernails glinting in the antiseptic light. I back off, out of reach.
Saedii draws a deep breath, steadies herself. I almost don’t catch it, but I swear I hear a small, strangled sob in her throat.
“Your sun will b-burn,” she whispers. “Your whole … wretched r-race …”
She hisses, trying to sit up. Her arms,