blood and Kilorn’s uneven breathing keeps me
1 8 v i c t o r i a a v e y a r d
GlassSword_txt_des1_CS6.indd 18
5/28/15 1:29 PM
from vaulting out of the crater. I must find him, I must. If not for myself then for the cause, to protect the retreat. He’s worth a hundred good
soldiers. He’s a golden shield. But he’s probably gone, escaped, having
melted his chains and run when the city began to crumble.
No, he wouldn’t run. He would never run from that army, from Maven, or
from me.
I hope I’m not wrong.
I hope he isn’t already dead.
“Get him up, Kilorn.” In the Hall of the Sun, the late Lady Blonos
taught me how to speak like a princess. It is a cold voice, unyielding,
leaving no room for contest.
Kilorn obeys, but Shade still has it in him to protest. “I’ll only slow
you down.”
“You can apologize for that later,” I reply, helping him hop to his
feet. But I’m barely paying attention to them, my concentration else-
where. “Get moving.”
“Mare, if you think we’re leaving you—”
When I turn on Kilorn, I have sparks in my hands and determina-
tion in my heart. His words die on his lips. He glances past me, toward
the army advancing with every passing second. Telkies and magne-
trons scrape debris out of the street, opening the obliterated way with
resounding scrapes of metal on stone.
“Run.”
Again, he obeys and Shade can do nothing but limp along, leaving
me behind. As they clamber out of the crater, scrambling west, I take
measured steps east. The army will stop for me. They must.
After one terrifying second, the Reds slow, their chains clinking as
they halt. Behind them, Silvers balance black rifles on their shoulders,
as if they were nothing at all. The war transports, great machines with
g l a s s s w o r d 1 9
GlassSword_txt_des1_CS6.indd 19
5/28/15 1:29 PM
treaded wheels, grind to a screeching stop somewhere behind the army.
I can feel their power thrum through my veins.
The army is close enough now that I hear officers bark orders. “The
lightning girl!” “Keep the line, stand firm!” “Take aim!” “Hold your
fire!”
The worst comes last, ringing out against the suddenly quiet street.
Ptolemus’s voice is familiar, full of hatred and rage.
“Make way for the king!” he shouts.
I stagger back. I expected Maven’s armies, but not Maven himself.
He is not a soldier like his brother, and he has no business leading an
army. But here he is, stalking through the parting troops, with Ptole-
mus and Evangeline on his heels. When he steps out from behind the
Red line, my knees almost buckle. His armor is polished black, his cape
crimson. Somehow he seems taller than he did this morning. He still
wears his father’s crown of flames, though it has no place on a battle-
field. I suppose he wants to show the world what he’s won with his lies,
what a great prize he’s stolen. Even from so far away, I can feel the heat
of his glare and his roiling anger. It burns me from inside out.
Nothing but the jets whistle overhead; it is the only sound in the
world.
“I see you’re still brave,” Maven says, his voice carrying down the
avenue. It echoes among the ruins, taunting me. “And foolish.”
Like in the arena, I will not give him the satisfaction of my anger
and fear.
“They should call you the Little Quiet Girl.” He laughs coldly, and
his army laughs with him. The Reds remain silent, their eyes fixed on
the ground. They don’t want to watch what’s about to happen. “Well,
Quiet Girl, tell your rat friends it is over. They are surrounded. Call
them out, and I will give them the gift of good deaths.”
2 0 v i c t o r i a a v e y a r d
GlassSword_txt_des1_CS6.indd 20
5/28/15 1:29 PM
Even if I could give such an order, I never would. “They’re already
gone.”
Don’t lie to a liar, and Maven is the grandest liar of al .
Still, he looks unsure. The Scarlet Guard has escaped so many times
already, in Caesar’s Square, in Archeon. Perhaps they might escape
even now. What an embarrassment that would be. What a disastrous
start to his reign.
“And the traitor?” His voice sharpens, and Evangeline moves closer
to him. Her silver hair glints like the edge of a razor, brighter than her
gilded armor. But he moves away from her, batting her aside like a cat
would a toy. “What about my wretched brother, the fallen prince?”
He never hears my answer, for I have none.
Maven laughs again and this time it stabs through my heart. “Has
he abandoned you too? Did he run away? The coward kills our father
and tries to steal my
| <<Previous page | |
Next page>> |