Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,73

the other side of the conversation. But his grandfather must have been on an AirLink, because Marcellus could only hear silence.

The general let out a grunt of approval. “Excellent. I’m am so grateful for your generous support and hard work. It will not be forgotten.”

Who was the general talking to? Could it be the source Denise had been in contact with? Mabelle had said that it was someone on the inside. Someone working with the general to build the weapon.

“I am certain that this marks the beginning of a new age,” the general continued, his voice ringing with a pride that Marcellus had never heard before. This was not the artificial patriotism with which the general delivered his Universal Alerts, nor the unwavering loyalty he exuded when speaking to the Patriarche. This was something else. Pure, untarnished conviction. “The scum of Laterre will soon be eliminated. The fat will be trimmed. The Regime will finally rid itself of the déchets and be brought to order.” The general let out a satisfied puff of air. “Our dark nights will be over and a new Laterre will be born. Streamlined and functioning, lean and clean, just as it should be.”

Marcellus struggled to recapture his breath, but it was as though all the air in the room had been sucked out.

Eliminated. Streamlined. Rid itself of the déchets?

His grandfather was planning to eliminate the Third Estate? All of the Third Estate? But that didn’t make any sense. General Bonnefaçon, of all people, knew how necessary the Third Estate was. Without them, the planet would surely crumble.

“Our two planets have been enemies for far too long,” the general went on. “It is time we become allies. When Laterre is under my control, I will make sure that the new and improved Regime benefits us both. Her majesty will not regret her investment in this joint venture.”

Thoughts swirled in Marcellus’s head like a hurricane forming over the Secana Sea, threatening to move inland and wipe out entire cities and towns.

Her majesty?

No. It couldn’t be. The general would never …

Would he?

“Keep me apprised as things progress on your end, and I will do the same.”

There was a soft tap, and then silence filled Marcellus’s audio patch. Deep, dark silence that spread across the couchette like a poisonous gas. It slithered out of the general’s office, traveled the corridors of the Grand Palais, slinked across the vast landscape of Vallonay, all the way to the Frets. It permeated Marcellus’s skin and sank straight down into his bones. Until that deadly silence was all he could see, hear, and feel.

- CHAPTER 22 - ALOUETTE

THIS HAD NOT BEEN A part of Alouette’s plan. She’d left Vallonay and the Refuge and come to Montfer to escape the darkness, to finally shed light on her past, and to find her truth.

And now, this was where she’d ended up.

Arrested and cuffed.

Shoved into a cramped, windowless cell in the Montfer Policier Precinct.

Back in the darkness.

With even more questions than she’d started with.

Even though she was huddled together with the other girls who had been arrested at the bordel, Alouette still shivered from the cold. The cell’s somber black ceiling and walls seemed to loom menacingly all around, and the air hung damp and thick.

The effects of the extraction were starting to gnaw at her. Her head felt woozy, and she could see bruises blooming on her arms. Purplish-blue memories of the nutrients that had been taken from her.

Even though it caused the cuffs to cut into her wrists, she clutched her sac tightly to her chest. For some reason, the officers hadn’t searched any of them when they’d detained them in the bordel. But Alouette still feared that her sac might eventually be taken from her. All of her precious items confiscated.

“When are you planning to let us go?” Madame Blanchard called out. She stood at the cell’s heavy door, still in her slinky gold dress. “Come on,” she snapped when she received no answer from the officers outside. “We’ve been in here for hours.”

Only silence met her from the other side of the door.

The madame banged again with her cuffed fists, getting more desperate. “Someone at the Ministère obviously got their AirLinks crossed because this lot are about as likely to be rebels as I am to be First Estate!” Defeated, the madame finally collapsed down onto one of the benches. Beside her, Clodie sat shivering in her threadbare green scrubs, her eyes closed, her lips moving silently as though she were praying.

Alouette