Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,78
in understanding and turns back toward the inn. “I’ll walk you there.”
“We’re not done talking about this,” I say, catching up. “I want to make sure you have the very best testimony in the history of Myr. We’ll get Graylin to write a speech for you. You can practice it before you leave.”
Brekken’s lips twitch in a smile—a genuine one, for the first time since he found me on the path. “Sounds good.” He takes my hand and squeezes it tight. “I want to come back to you.”
And with that, my heart flip-flops for the umpteenth time.
When I get to Marcus’s living room, he’s not alone. Nahteran is sitting on the couch with a mug of that weird tea he likes, looking tired and anxious. He’s wearing a black sweater clearly borrowed from Marcus, judging by its bagginess and how the sleeve rides up his wrist when he waves to me.
By the counter, Marcus turns to me. He has a mug of coffee ready for me, too, and his face is grave as he hands it to me. “Maddie, thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” I take it and sit down next to Nahteran, an ominous weight settling onto my chest.
Marcus sits on the edge of the armchair across from us, his hands on his knees. No drink for him. His hair is messy as if he’s been running his hands nervously through it all night.
“I don’t want to beat around the bush,” he says. His voice is hoarse. He used to be a smoker, back before I was born, and sometimes the gravelly edge still comes out. “I’ve been up all night thinking about Sylvia. About your mom. About what she would do if she were in my shoes.”
I feel my muscles tense up. Suddenly, I know what he’s going to say and dread fills me. Please don’t say it. Please don’t—
“She wouldn’t want us to put the whole world at risk just for her sake,” Marcus says. “We’re not going to give the armor to the Silver Prince.”
I go numb. The world around me fills with a buzzing, gray static. The only thing I’m aware of is Nahteran going rigid next to me. Meaning this is news to him too.
“But—”
The word falls from my lips without my deciding to say it, a wild exclamation. Yet it dies off, goes nowhere. I don’t know why I feel so horrified and repulsed. It’s not like I had decided where I stood; I hadn’t been set on trading the armor. If anything, after my talk with Nahteran last night on the balcony, I was leaning the same way as Marcus. So why is my chest burning with a trapped scream of protest?
“Look.” Marcus swipes the back of his hand across his face, catching a couple of tears before they can slide down his cheeks. “I’m not happy about this. Obviously. But I know your mom. And we can’t—we can’t throw everyone on Earth under the bus just to save her.” He looks from me to Nahteran and back. “So we sit tight. We protect the armor and keep guarding the doorway to Oasis. As long as the Silver Prince is trapped there, we’re safe. Havenfall is safe.” His voice trembles. “Earth is safe.”
I stare back at him, feeling like I’m floating above my body. I had been stuck on the knife’s edge before, too trapped to step off in either direction, to make a choice, even in my own mind. But somehow, Marcus articulating his decision in such stark terms has broken my paralysis and I suddenly know what I think.
That this can’t happen.
I won’t let it happen.
I won’t let Mom die.
I half expect to start crying as soon as I close the door to Marcus’s suite behind me, but I don’t. Instead, my whole body feels electrified, fired with energy and purpose. I start walking in a random direction, feeling like I’ll explode if I don’t burn it off. Nahteran falls into step next to me.
“There has to be another way,” I say in a low voice, not looking at him, but trusting that he hears me. “There just has to.”
“Sure, there is,” he says. “Giving the Silver Prince the armor. But how can we do that without Marcus finding out? And do you really want to?”
“No,” I hiss. Fury—not at Nahteran or Marcus, but at our circumstances, at the Silver Prince—throbs beneath my skin. “There’s something else. There has to be.”
My feet are taking us up, up, up. I scarcely notice