My hands rest on the hilts of my swords. Aramin will tell Red to step forward. What will I do, then? Why should I keep protecting someone who has been nothing but a punishment for me? I could step aside and expose Red, allow him to be taken back to the Federation. And good riddance. He has no desire to live, anyway, has shown nothing but scorn for me for saving him.
The Firstblade is quiet for only a moment. When he speaks again, though, he doesn’t look our way. “Your deserters are your business,” he says. “Get your soldiers off our land and back over the warfront. This is your last warning.”
The Premier gives him a humorless smile. “No, Firstblade,” he replies. “I think I will do the warning. I will give you another chance to return the Federation property you owe us. Think hard.”
He shifts, moving his gelding forward, and the clanking chains of his Ghosts make the beasts snarl, snapping their jaws hungrily in our direction. The Premier stares at us all in the darkness, searching for the face he’s come to retrieve. Red stays motionless.
The Firstblade is silent, and for a moment, I think he will point his sword in our direction. But he never does. Instead, he calls out, “You are in our land now, not yours. We don’t follow the orders of a foreign ruler.”
“It will be easier for Mara if you do, you know,” the Premier says with a sigh. “You’ve seen the ruins of those who came millennia before us. I took a vow never to let that happen to Karensa.” He nods around at us. “Your people are slowly starving to death in this tiny country. Why do you want them to keep suffering? We are powerful and organized, have strived to build a society so strong that it will never crumble. It will be better for your people if you just step aside.”
The Firstblade straightens the lapels of his coat. He remains calm in his movements, but I can see that furious light appear in his eyes, the sign of an inevitable battle to come. “If your Federation is so powerful,” he says, “and we are so weak, then why do you even bother?” His teeth flash with his smile. “Or do you still fear Mara? Perhaps we’re not as small as you think.”
A hint of annoyance shows on the Premier’s face. “We are the rightful heirs to the Early Ones,” he says. “But unlike them, there will never be ruins of Karensa. We were always meant to inherit their Infinite Destiny.”
The Firstblade nods in the direction of the line of Ghosts. “Then come get your precious destiny.”
Constantine doesn’t look surprised. He just shakes his head. “So be it,” he says.
Then he releases his Ghosts from their chains.
The realization surges through me. We are going to die here tonight.
Adena takes in the scene with a sense of eerie calm. The same thoughts must have occurred to her too, just as they must have occurred to every single one of us. But she doesn’t show it on her face.
Beside her, Jeran—the same boy who had just been blushing earlier about his cooking—has already pulled on his black mask.
I pull on mine too. Beside me, Red shifts closer—and for an instant, I think he’s going to attack me with his chains. But he doesn’t make a move. Instead, his stance is turned in the direction of the Federation’s troops, and his eyes have narrowed in rage. He casts me a single, steady look.
I twist my blade toward his chains. He flinches before he realizes that I’m freeing him. With two slices, the chain comes apart, and his arms snap free. I cut him loose from his leg bounds too.
He gives me a blank stare, as if not quite willing to believe that I’ve released him. And for an instant, I wonder if it’s a stupid idea.
Then, he gives me a single nod. I return it, relishing this tiny moment where we can understand each other. If we’re going to die here tonight, it doesn’t make much difference whether my prisoner is shackled or not. Maybe he’ll even fight alongside me.
It’s the only thought I have time for. Then we fan out into an attack and charge straight into the jaws of death.
Adena is the first to reach a Ghost. She yanks out both her swords, twisting their hilts together so that they combine into a single deadly weapon—then she twirls