him wrap her in his strong arms. But remembering Lucie’s confidence steadied her, and she breathed past her fear. For two decades Grandfather had fought a quiet war, hiding rezistyenti and transporting information. Maybe that had been enough, once.
But now that the bozhskyeh storms had returned, the resistance couldn’t just slink along in the shadows. Supreme-General Kladivo wanted another war. If the resistance didn’t stop him, he would get hundreds of thousands of people killed—again. Pa had fought in the Lesnikrayan War. He understood the importance of risk.
Pa wouldn’t put her in danger without good reason. To protect Celka, he’d let the Tayemstvoy beat him senseless. He’d had four years to plan for the returning bozhskyeh storms. Grandfather was afraid, but Celka trusted Pa.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
GERRIT SUPPORTED HIMSELF on fingertips and toes, body straight as a plank, muscles straining while he shifted from sousednia to true-life and back again. Spotting Celka’s approach, her sousedni-shape wavering like a reflection in water, he leaped to his feet and opened the snake trailer door. ?I think I’ve figured it out.?
?Figured what out??
While Celka strode deeper into the trailer, Gerrit stayed near the door. His true-form motionless, he laid a hand on Celka’s shoulder from sousednia.
She cocked her head. “That was pretty good. It almost felt real.”
Gerrit tried not to be disappointed by the “almost.” He’d practiced with a mule after he and Ela finishing mimeographing, and was pretty sure he’d made its ear twitch.
“What changed?” she asked.
“I’d been focusing on touching a sousedni-shape, but that’s not the whole person. Instead, I’ve been trying to see the true-form from sousednia. Almost like I’m bringing the true-form and sousedni-shape into contact, and then touching the true-form from sousednia.”
Celka smiled, but sobered too fast.
“What is it?” he asked. When she hesitated, his own words tumbled out, too urgent to keep locked inside. “This morning, I realized I haven’t been thinking about things right. I was so scared and angry that I forgot who I am.”
Celka frowned, and Gerrit struggled to put his swirling thoughts into some semblance of order. He didn’t quite know where this path would lead, but he felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. “My father doesn’t realize what I know about him. He’ll find me, but that doesn’t have to be the end. He trusts my brother and sister, he’s groomed them to stand at his side and he must want that from me, or he would have just murdered Mother quietly, rather than using it to warp me. That means I have a chance. In the next storm, I’ll imbue again—I know I will. It made so much sense when we imbued together that I’m certain I can imbue on my own.
“And then, instead of waiting for regime dogs to find me, I can return to the Storm Guard.”
“What?” Celka cried. “Gerrit, no! That’s a terrible idea.”
He clasped her hands. “Hear me out. The Stormhawk wants imbued weapons and is willing to destroy mages to get them. But once I prove I can imbue, my father will respect me and I’ll be able to”—he scrabbled for a way to explain without admitting his father’s identity—“use his influence to make the Tayemstvoy back off of the Storm Guard. I have friends in the Storm Guard, Celka. If I go back, I might be able to protect them.”
“How can you possibly believe that’ll work?” she asked. “Even if your father’s that powerful, he’s not just going to trust you because you made him a shiny gun. And if he does? How could you even consider licking his boots? He murdered your mother.”
Gerrit struggled to cover the wince. He had to crush that knowledge down so it couldn’t betray him. He’d thought this through, practiced the words—“It’s better than being hunted and driven storm-mad.”
“What if there was another option?” Celka asked.
He tried to pull his hands away, but she tightened her grip. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, frustrated. “The resistance—”
“Is stronger than I thought.” Belief lit her expression. Before, she’d been frightened of the future, had seen the resistance as a desperate chance.
He shook his head, but hope lit in his chest, a painful ember he tried to quench. “What changed?”
“I got a letter from the Wolf,” she said.
“The one on the leaflets?”
“Our leader. He arranged safe-houses to hide us while we chase the storms and strazh mages to protect us while we imbue.”
“Us?”
“Me.” She shook her head. “But it could be us. If you come with me.”