don’t trust your word.”
Shade is a soldier. His life has been anything but easy, and he is no
stranger to pain. Still, my declaration wounds him deeply. I see it in
his face.
I’l apologize later, I tell myself.
If later ever comes.
Another missile sails overhead, striking a few streets away. The
distant thunder of an explosion doesn’t mask the harsher and more ter-
rifying noise rising all around.
The rhythm of a thousand marching feet.
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T WO
The air thickens with a cloak of ash, buying us a few seconds to stare down our oncoming doom. The silhouettes of soldiers move down
the streets from the north. I can’t see their guns yet, but a Silver army
doesn’t need guns to kill.
Other Guardsmen flee before us, sprinting down the avenue with
abandon. For now, it looks like they might escape, but to where? There’s
only the river and the sea beyond. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to
hide. The army marches slowly, at a strange shuffling pace. I squint
through the dust, straining to see them. And then I realize what this is,
what Maven has done. The shock of it sparks in me, through me, forcing Shade and Kilorn to jump back.
“Mare!” Shade shouts, half-surprised, half-angry. Kilorn doesn’t
say anything, watching me wobble on the spot.
My hand closes on his arm and he doesn’t flinch. My sparks are
already gone—he knows I won’t hurt him. “Look,” I say, pointing.
We knew soldiers would come. Cal told us, warned us, that Maven
would send in a legion after the airjets. But not even Cal could have
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predicted this. Only a heart so twisted as Maven’s could dream up this
nightmare.
The figures of the first line are not wearing the clouded gray of
Cal’s hard-trained Silver soldiers. They are not even soldiers at all.
They are servants in red coats, red shawls, red tunics, red pants, red
shoes. So much red they could be bleeding. And around their feet,
clinking against the ground, are iron chains. The sound scrapes against
me, drowning out the airjets and the missiles and even the harsh-barked
orders of the Silver officers hiding behind their Red wall. The chains
are all I hear.
Kilorn bristles, growling. He steps forward, raising his rifle to
shoot, but the gun shudders in his hands. The army is still across the
avenue, too far for an expert shot even without a human shield. Now it’s worse than impossible.
“We have to keep moving,” Shade mutters. Anger flares in his eyes,
but he knows what must be done, what must be ignored, to stay alive.
“Kilorn, come with us now, or we’ll leave you.”
My brother’s words sting, waking me up from my horrified daze.
When Kilorn doesn’t move, I take his arm, whispering into his ear,
hoping to drown out the chains.
“Kilorn.” It’s the voice I used on Mom when my brothers went to
war, when Dad had a breathing attack, when things fell apart. “Kilorn,
there’s nothing we can do for them.”
The words hiss through his teeth. “That’s not true.” He glances over
his shoulder at me. “You have to do something. You can save them—”
To my eternal shame, I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”
We keep running. And Kilorn follows.
More missiles explode, faster and closer with each passing second.
I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears. Steel and glass sway like
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reeds in the wind, bending and breaking until biting silver rain falls
down upon us. Soon, it’s too dangerous to run, and Shade’s grip tight-
ens on me. He grabs Kilorn too, jumping all three of us as the world
collapses. My stomach twists every time the darkness closes in, and
every time, the falling city gets closer. Ash and concrete dust choke our
vision, making it difficult to breathe. Glass shatters in a bright storm,
leaving shallow cuts across my face and hands, shredding my clothes.
Kilorn looks worse than I do, his bandages red with fresh blood, but
he keeps moving, careful not to outpace us. My brother’s grip never
weakens, but he begins to tire, paling with every new jump. I’m not
helpless, using my sparks to deflect the jagged metal shrapnel that even
Shade can’t jump us away from. But we’re not enough, not even to save
ourselves.
“How much farther?” My voice sounds small, drowned out by the
tide of war. Against the haze, I can’t see farther than a few feet. But I
can still feel. And what I feel are wings, engines, electricity screaming overhead, swooping closer and closer. We might as well be mice waiting for hawks to pluck us from the ground.
Shade