ON E
I flinch. The rag she gives me is clean, but it still smells like blood. I shouldn’t care. I already have blood all over my clothes. The red is mine,
of course. The silver belongs to many others. Evangeline, Ptolemus,
the nymph lord, all those who tried to kill me in the arena. I suppose
some of it is Cal’s as well. He bled freely on the sand, cut and bruised
by our would-be executioners. Now he sits across from me, staring at
his feet, letting his wounds begin the slow process of healing naturally.
I glance at one of the many cuts on my arms, probably from Evange-
line. Still fresh, and deep enough to leave a scar. Part of me delights in
the thought. This jagged gash will not be magically wiped away by a
healer’s cold hands. Cal and I are not in the Silver world anymore, with
someone to simply erase our well-earned scars. We have escaped. Or at
least, I have. Cal’s chains are a firm reminder of his captivity.
Farley nudges my hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. “Hide your
face, lightning girl. It’s what they’re after.”
For once, I do as I’m told. The others follow, pulling red fabric up
over their mouths and noses. Cal is the last uncovered face, but not for
GlassSword_txt_des1_CS6.indd 1
5/28/15 1:29 PM
long. He doesn’t fight Farley when she ties his mask into place, making
him look like one of us.
If only he was.
An electric hum sets my blood on fire, reminding me of the puls-
ing, screeching Undertrain. It carries us inexorably forward, to a city
that was once a haven. The train races, screaming over ancient tracks
like a Silver swift running over open ground. I listen to the grating
metal, feel it deep in my bones where a cold ache settles in. My rage, my
strength back in the arena seem like faraway memories, leaving behind only pain and fear. I can scarcely imagine what Cal must be thinking.
He’s lost everything, everything he ever held dear. A father, a brother, a kingdom. How he’s holding himself together, still but for the rocking
of the train, I do not know.
No one needs to tell me the reason for our haste. Farley and her
Guardsmen, tense as coiled wire, are enough explanation for me. We
are still running.
Maven came this way before, and Maven will come again. This
time with the fury of his soldiers, his mother, and his new crown. Yes-
terday he was a prince; today he is king. I thought he was my friend,
my betrothed, now I know better.
Once I trusted him. Now I know to hate him, to fear him. He
helped kill his father for a crown, and framed his brother for the crime.
He knows the radiation surrounding the ruined city is a lie—a trick—
and he knows where the train leads. The sanctuary Farley built is no
longer safe, not for us. Not for you.
We could already be speeding into a trap.
An arm tightens around me, sensing my unease. Shade. I still can’t
believe my brother is here, alive and, strangest of all, like me. Red and
Silver—and stronger than both.
2 v i c t o r i a a v e y a r d
GlassSword_txt_des1_CS6.indd 2
5/28/15 1:29 PM
“I won’t let them take you again,” he murmurs, so low I can barely
hear him. I suppose loyalty to anyone but the Scarlet Guard, even fam-
ily, is not allowed. “I promise you that.”
His presence is soothing, pulling me backward in time. Past his
conscription, to a rainy spring when we could still pretend to be chil-
dren. Nothing existed but the mud, the village, and our foolish habit of
ignoring the future. Now the future is all I think of, wondering what
dark path my actions have set us upon.
“What are we going to do now?” I direct the question at Farley, but
my eyes find Kilorn. He stands at her shoulder, a dutiful guardian with
a clenched jaw and bloody bandages. To think he was a fisherman’s
apprentice not so long ago. Like Shade, he seems out of place, a ghost
of a time before all this.
“There’s always somewhere to run,” Farley replies, more focused
on Cal than anything else.
She expects him to fight, to resist, but he does neither.
“You keep your hands on her,” Farley says, turning back to Shade
after a long moment. My brother nods, and his palm feels heavy on my
shoulder. “She cannot be lost.”
I am not a general or a tactician, but her reasoning is clear. I am
the little lightning girl—living electricity, a lightning bolt in human
form. People know my name, my face, and my abilities. I am valuable,
I am powerful, and Maven will do anything to stop me from
| |
Next page>> |