Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,190

who gets to feel guilty.” Her voice cracked and her legs seemed to give out. She collapsed back down onto the ground, her gaze falling toward Gabriel. When she spoke next, her voice was quiet and full of regret. “I’m the one who suggested we go into hypervoyage. I’m the one who brought you that message from Dr. Collins in the first place. If you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

“This is no one’s fault,” Alouette said, glancing between Marcellus and Cerise. “And I don’t see how arguing over that will do anyone any good.”

Flustered, Marcellus clenched and unclenched his fists. Alouette was right. It wouldn’t do any good. They were running out of time.

With a growl, he turned and started off into the icy tundra.

“Marcellus!” Alouette shouted. “What are you doing?”

He could hear her footsteps chasing after him. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to find help. I can’t just stand here and watch Gabriel die. I can’t just wait around here while the general destroys the planet. I have to do something, or I will implode.”

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t do anything.” Alouette said.

Marcellus slowed to a halt. “What?”

He spun around and looked into her dark eyes—so strong and fierce and yet so tranquil at the same time.

“Marcellus,” she said with a quiet urgency. “You don’t even know what General Bonnefaçon is planning.”

“All the more reason to get us out of here.”

Alouette reached out and touched his arm. “Take a deep breath. Calm your mind. Let your thoughts settle before you—”

Marcellus threw up his hands. “Enough with your Sisterhood nonsense. I don’t have time to listen to this. I have to go find help or we’re all going to freeze to death!”

“I told you, we’re in the middle of the Terrain Perdu!” Cerise shouted from beside Gabriel. “There’s nothing out there for thousands of kilomètres.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take my chances!” he shouted back. He turned and kept walking straight into the howling wind, which battered at his numb cheeks and ripped at his flimsy coat. It was so loud against his ears, he almost didn’t hear it when Alouette spoke again.

“Is that what your grandfather would do?”

But he did hear it. He heard it and felt it everywhere. All the way down to his frozen toes. He spun back around, a new fury igniting inside of him. “Why would I care what my grandfather would do?” he said, his voice a deep, guttural growl.

Alouette’s steady gaze never faltered. “Because you said so yourself: He always wins. He never loses. Why do you think that is?”

Marcellus’s anger quickly gave way to bafflement. What on Laterre was she talking about?

“You may not agree with his motivations,” Alouette went on, “but you can’t argue with his success. Yes, he killed the Premier Enfant. He’s caused chaos and destruction on this planet. He built a horrific weapon with Laterre’s greatest enemy and is now poised to unleash it. Do you really think he accomplished all of that by ‘taking his chances’?”

The words thrummed through Marcellus. Hitting him deep. Hitting him hard. He dug his fingernails into his palms and shut his eyes, trying to chase Alouette’s voice from his mind. But it seemed to be clinging to the corners, gripping tightly like the fists of droids.

Then he could suddenly hear his grandfather’s voice alongside it, harmonizing with Alouette’s like a dark, haunting melody.

“Always so hasty to act, aren’t you, Marcellus? Always rushing into things. You must learn to be more strategic. Plan your attack. Analyze your opponent. Play with your head, not your emotions.”

The general didn’t take chances. He didn’t have to. He was always three moves ahead of everyone else.

Especially Marcellus.

Because Marcellus kept making the same mistakes time and time again. He kept starting over because he kept losing. He kept losing because he refused to play the game the way his grandfather did. The way his grandfather had trained him to play since he was a child.

What if Mabelle had been more right than she realized? What if this officer uniform he was still wearing was not a curse, but a gift? A key?

A key he had yet to use.

For eighteen years, he had trained under the general. For eighteen years, he had watched his grandfather maneuver and strategize. He’d sat in on countless briefings and meetings and broadcasts. He’d witnessed the general handle every problem under the Sols. He’d traveled across the System Divine and back—thousands of hours locked in a voyageur with