Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,114

leaned back on his hands. “Oh, I don’t know. I heard the words ‘weapon’ and ‘rid the Regime of the déchets’ and I freaked. I figured bad things were about to go down, and anywhere had to be better than Laterre.” He snorted. “Even Albion.”

“So, what? When we land, you’re going to get off the ship and enlist in the Albion Royal Guard?”

He shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, just be sure to thank Cerise for the ride.”

He cringed. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?”

“That I’m not along to save the world?”

Alouette glanced down at the closed book beside her. The Vangarde’s mysterious compendium of reports. “I’m starting to think that saving the world is a pretty foolish ambition.”

“And yet, here you are.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “Here I am.”

“What is this?” Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. He leaned forward and picked up her mother’s titan box from the bed before turning it around in his hands and studying the ornate design on the top. “Is this—”

Alouette hastily snatched the box back from him. She didn’t like the sensation that came over her from watching someone else hold it. “Sorry, it’s … It belonged to my mother.” She squeezed the box in her hand. It felt like years ago that she’d found it in Hugo’s room. She had come so far since then. And yet, right now, Alouette felt just as lost and hopeless and naïve as that girl snooping around the Refuge, looking for answers. “It’s the only thing I have left of her.”

“What’s in it?” Gabriel asked.

Alouette ran her fingertips over the seam. “I don’t know. It’s locked.”

Gabriel guffawed.

“What?” She glanced up at him.

“That would never stop me.”

“What do you … ?” But her voice trailed off as her gaze fell back down to the bed and landed on her screwdriver. The same one Gabriel had used to break them out of their Ministère cuffs. She stared intently at the sharp-tipped tool, her jumbled thoughts focusing into one single, resolute goal. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she snatched up the screwdriver and, with more desperation than precision, jammed the flat end under the lid of the box and wrenched up. With a crack and a hiss, the top flew open. Alouette was so shocked that her forceful tactic had worked, she nearly dropped the box.

In a split second, all her former anger and grief simply melted away, replaced by a thrumming, burning curiosity.

Slowly, warily, Alouette leaned forward and peered inside.

She had never known what to expect when she finally got a glimpse at her mother’s long-lost treasure. Anything probably would have surprised her at this point. But she still let out a tiny gasp.

Nestled in a bed of soft purple velvet was a small plait of braided hair. Two distinct strands woven together: one dark and curly, so much like her own, and the other thick and reddish-brown.

Her father’s?

Was she looking at a piece of her real father?

She reached out and gently touched the strands, feeling a tingle travel through her.

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, peering over her shoulder into the box.

But before she could answer, the door to her couchette whooshed open again and Cerise barged in, looking eager and flushed. She opened her mouth to say something, but then her gaze fell upon Gabriel and Alouette, sitting side by side on the bed, and she seemed to lose her train of thought.

“Did you want something?” Gabriel prompted, leaning back on his hands again as though he were making a grand show of looking comfortable.

“Not from you,” she snapped.

Gabriel flashed Alouette an I-told-you-so look and stood up from the bed. “Fine. If anyone needs me, I’ll be raiding the galley.” He pushed past Cerise and sauntered out of the room. Once he was gone, Cerise turned to Alouette, and Alouette’s stomach instantly clenched at the anticipation of more bad news. She didn’t think she could take any more.

But then Cerise’s eyes flashed with unmistakable excitement. “We got it.”

Alouette frowned. “Got what?”

“A response. From the source on Albion.”

- CHAPTER 34 - MARCELLUS

“THOSE WRETCHES! ALL OF THEM. The whole blasted Third Estate!”

Marcellus woke with a start to the sound of Patriarche Lyon Paresse ranting in his ear. He sat up and grappled around in the darkness of his couchette for the light panel, fighting through the bleariness of sleep.

“Have you seen it, General?!” the Patriarche roared. “Have you seen what they’ve done?”

It took Marcellus a moment to realize the sound was coming from the auditeur back on Laterre. He was listening to another