“I don’t like that smile, little miss,” Nanny says in Laris’s voice. Though I’ve seen her transform before, I’m still not used to the strange sight.
Gareth laughs next to Nanny, helping her from her seat. “Farley flew with me last. Made a real mess of my boots when we touched down.”
“I did no such thing,” Farley replies, but she stalks down the length of the jet quickly. Probably to hide her flushing face. Shade follows her as he always does, trying to smother his laughter with his hand. She’s been ill lately and has done her best to hide it, to everyone’s amusement.
Cal and I are the last left on the plane, though I have no cause to wait for him. He goes through the usual motions, twisting knobs and flipping switches that turn off different parts of the jet in rapid succession. I feel each one sink into electrical death, until the low hum of full batteries is all that remains. The silence pounds in time with my beating heart, and suddenly I can’t get off the jet fast enough. Something frightens me about being alone with Cal, at least in daylight. But when night falls, there’s no one I’d rather see.
“You should talk to Kilorn.”
His voice stops me midstep, frozen halfway down the back ramp.
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
Heat rises with every moment, as he gets closer and closer to me. “Funny, you’re usually such a good liar.”
I spin to find myself staring at his chest. The flight suit, pristine when he put it on more than a month ago, now shows distinct signs of wear. Even though he does his best to steer clear of our battles, battle has touched him still.
“I know Kilorn better than you, and nothing I say will snap him out of his little tantrum.”
“Do you know he asks to come with us?” His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded. He looks like he does in the moments before he falls asleep. “He asks me every night.”
My time at the Notch has made me blunt and easy to read. I don’t doubt Cal sees the confusion I feel, or the low currents of jealousy. “He speaks to you? He won’t talk to me because of you, so why on earth would he—”
Suddenly his fingers are under my chin, tilting my head so I can’t look away. “It’s not me he’s mad at. He’s not angry because we . . .” And then it’s his turn to trail off. “He respects you enough to make your own choices.”
“He told me as much.”
“But you don’t believe him.” My silence is answer enough. “I know why you think you can’t trust anyone—by my colors, I know. But you can’t go through this alone. And don’t say you have me, because we both know you don’t believe that either.” The pain in his voice nearly flattens me. His fingers shake, shivering against me.
Slowly, I pull my face out of his grasp. “I wasn’t going to.” A half lie. I feel no claim over Cal, and won’t let myself trust him, but I can’t distance myself from him either. Every time I try, I find myself wandering back.
“He isn’t a child, Mare. You don’t have to protect him anymore.”
To think, all this time, Kilorn has been angry because I want to keep him alive. I almost laugh at the idea. How dare I do such a thing? How dare I want to keep him safe? “Then bring him along next time. Let him stumble into a grave.” I know he hears the tremor in my voice, but politely pretends to ignore it. “And since when do you care about him?”
I barely hear his answer as I walk away. “I’m not saying this for his sake.”
Down on the runway, the others are waiting. Farley busies herself strapping Nanny to Gareth’s chest, using a jerry-rigged harness from one of the jet seats, but Shade is staring at his feet. He heard every word, judging by the stern set of his features. He glares at me as we pass, but says nothing. I’ll be in for another scolding later, but for now, our focus turns toward Pitarus and hopefully another successful recruitment.
“Arms in, head down,” Gareth says, instructing Nanny. Before our eyes, she morphs from the bulky Lord General into her much smaller, thinner self. She tightens the straps accordingly.
“Lighter this way,” she explains with a tiny giggle. After long days of serious talk and restless nights, the sight makes me laugh outright. I can’t help it, and have to cover my mouth with my hand.
Gareth awkwardly pats the top of her head. “You never cease to amaze, Nan. Feel free to shut your eyes.”
She shakes her head. “Had shut eyes my whole life,” she says. “Never again.”
When I was a child, dreaming of flying like a bird, I never imagined anything like this. Gareth’s legs don’t bend, his muscles don’t tense. He doesn’t push off the ground. Instead, his palms flatten, parallel to the runway, and he simply starts to lift. I know the gravity around him is loosening, a thread being untied. He rises with Nanny strapped close, faster and faster, until he’s merely a speck in the sky. And then the thread tightens, pulling the little dot along the earth, up and down in smooth, rolling arcs. Loose, then tight, until they disappear over the nearest ridge. From down here, it almost looks peaceful, but I doubt I’ll ever find out firsthand. The jet is flight enough for me.
Farley is the first to look away from the horizon and return to the task at hand. She gestures to the rising hill above us, crested with red-and-gold trees. “Shall we?”
I march ahead in reply, setting a good pace to get us up and over the ridge. According to our now vast collection of maps, the mining village of Rosen should be on the other side. Or at least, what once was Rosen. A coal fire destroyed the place years ago, forcing Reds and Silvers alike to abandon the valuable, if volatile, mines. According to Ada’s readings, it was abandoned overnight, and most likely has a wealth of supplies for us. For now, I intend to pass through, if only to see what we can raid on the way back.
The ashen smell hits me first. It clings to the west side of the slope, strengthening with every step we take down the ridge. Farley, Shade, and I are quick to cover our noses with our scarves, but Cal isn’t bothered by the heavy perfume of smoke. Well, he wouldn’t be. Instead, he sniffs at it, tentative.
“Still burning,” he whispers, eyeing the trees. Unlike the other side of the ridge, the oaks and elms here look dead. Their leaves are few, their trunks gray, and not even weeds grow between their gnarled roots. “Somewhere deep.”
If Cal wasn’t with us, I would be afraid of the lingering coal fire. But even the red heat of the mines is no match for him. The prince could wave off an explosion if he wanted, and so we continue on, pleasantly silent in the dying wood.
Mine shafts dot the hillside, each one hastily boarded up. One breathes smoke, a dull trail of gray clouds lifting into the hazy sky. Farley fights the urge to investigate, but is quick to climb low branches or rocks. She scouts the area with quiet intensity, always on guard. And always within a few feet of Shade, who never takes his eyes off her. I’m quietly reminded of Julian and Sara, two dancers moving to music no one else can hear.
Rosen is the grayest place I’ve ever seen. Ash coats the entire village like snow, floating on the air in flurries, hugging the buildings in waist-high drifts. It even blots out the sun, surrounding the village in a permanent cloud of haze. I’m reminded of the techie slums of Gray Town, but that foul place still pulsed like a sluggish, blackened heart. This village is long dead, killed by an accident, a spark deep in the mines. Only the main street, a shoddy cross of a few brick storefronts and plank homes, is still standing. The rest has collapsed or burned. I wonder if there’s bone dust swirling in the ash we breathe.
“No electricity.” I can’t feel anything, not even a lightbulb. A cord of tension releases in my chest. Rosen is long gone, and offers us no harm. “Check the windows.”
They follow my example, wiping the glass storefronts with already dirty sleeves. I squint into the smallest of the still-standing buildings, barely a closet squashed between a smashed Security outpost and the half-collapsed schoolhouse. When my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize I’m looking at rows and rows of books. Cluttered onto shelves, thrown into haphazard piles, spilled across t
he grimy floor. I grin against the glass, dreaming of how many treasures I can bring back for Ada.
A smash splinters through my nerves. I whirl to the sound, only to see Farley standing by a storefront window. She holds a piece of wood, and there’s glass at her feet. “They were trapped,” she explains, gesturing into the shop.
After a moment, a flock of crows explodes from the broken window. They disappear into the ashen sky, but their cries echo long after they’re gone. They sound like children in pain.
“My colors,” Cal swears under his breath, shaking his head in her direction.
She only shrugs, smirking. “Did I scare you, Your Highness?”
He opens his mouth to answer, the corners of his mouth pulled in a smile, but someone cuts him off. A voice I don’t recognize, coming from a person I’ve never seen.
“Not yet, Diana Farley.” The man seems to materialize out of the ash. His skin, hair, and clothes are just as gray as the dead village. But his eyes are a luminous, horrifying blood red. “Though you will. You all will.”
Cal calls on his fire, I on my lighting, and Farley raises her gun in the direction of the gray man. None of these things seem to frighten him. Instead, he takes a step forward, and his crimson gaze finds me.
“Mare Barrow,” he sighs, as if my name brings him great pain. His eyes water. “I feel like I already know you.”
None of us move, transfixed by the sight of him. I tell myself it’s his eyes, or his long gray hair. His appearance is peculiar, even to us. But that’s not what keeps me rooted to the spot. Something else has put me on edge, an instinct I don’t understand. Though this man looks bent with age, unable to throw a punch let alone brawl with Cal, I can’t help but fear him.
“Who are you?” My quavering voice echoes over the empty village.
The gray man tips his head, staring at each of us in turn. With every passing second, his face falls, until I think he might start crying. “The newbloods of Pitarus are dead. The king waits for you there.” Before Cal can open his mouth, to ask what we’re all thinking, the gray man holds up a hand. “I know because I have seen it, Tiberias. Just like I saw you coming.”
“What do you mean, saw?” Farley growls, taking quick steps toward him. Her gun is still tight in her hand, ready to be used. “Tell us!”
“Such a temper, Diana,” he chides, sidestepping her with surprisingly quick feet. She blinks, perplexed, and lunges, trying to grab him. Again, he dodges.
“Farley, stop!” I surprise even myself with the order. She sneers at me but obeys, circling around so that she’s behind the strange man. “What’s your name, sir?”
His smile is just as gray as his hair. “That is of no consequence. My name isn’t on your list. I come from beyond your kingdom’s borders.”
Before I get a chance to ask him how he knows about Julian’s list, Farley charges with all her speed, sprinting at the man’s back. Though she makes no sound, though he can’t see her, he easily steps out of her path. She falls into the ash face-first, cursing, but wastes no time getting to her feet. Now she has her gun aimed at his heart. “You going to dodge this?” she snarls, letting a bullet click into place.
“I won’t have to,” he replies with a wry smile. “Will I, Miss Barrow?”
Of course. “Farley, leave him be. He’s another newblood.”
“You’re . . . you’re an eye,” Cal breathes, taking a few shuffling steps through the ashen street. “You can see the future.”
The man scoffs, waving a hand. “An eye sees only what they look for. Their sight is narrower than a blade of grass.” Again, he fixes us with his sad, scarlet stare.
“But I see everything.”
TWENTY-ONE
Only when we enter the burned-out husk of the Rosen tavern does the gray man speak again, introducing himself as we take seats around a charred table. His name is shockingly simple. Jon. And his presence is the most unsettling thing I’ve ever felt. Every time he looks at me, with eyes the color of blood, I get the sense that he can see right through my skin, to the twisted thing I used to call a heart. But I keep my thoughts to myself, if only to allow Farley more room to air her grievances. She alternates between grumbling and shouting, arguing that we can’t trust this strange man who appeared out of the ash. Once or twice, Shade has to calm her down, putting his hands on her arms to still her. Jon sits through it all with a tight smile, staring down her oppositions, only speaking when she finally shuts her mouth.
“The four of you are well known to me, so there’s no need for introductions,” he says, holding up a hand in Shade’s direction. My brother makes a strangled kind of noise, drawing back a little. “I found you because I knew where you would be. It was nothing to coordinate my journey with yours,” Jon adds, turning his gaze on Cal. His face whitens in a flush, but Jon doesn’t bother to watch. Instead, he looks to me, and his smile softens a bit. He’ll be a good addition, albeit a creepy one. “I have no intention of joining you at the Notch, Miss Barrow.”
Then it’s my turn to swallow my tongue. Before I can recover enough to ask, he answers for me again, and it feels like a cold stab to the belly. “No, I cannot read your thoughts, but I do see what is to come. For instance, what you say next. I figure I’d save us some time.”
“Efficient,” Farley grinds out. She’s the only one of us not transfixed by this man. “Why don’t you just tell us what you came to say and be done with it? Better yet, just tell us what’s going to happen.”
“Your instincts serve you well, Diana,” he replies, bowing his gray head. “Your friends, the shifter and the flyer, will return soon. They met resistance at the Pitarus Security Center, and will need medical attention. Nothing Diana cannot accomplish on your jet.”
Shade moves to stand from his chair, but Jon waves him back down. “Easy, you have some time yet. The king has no intention to pursue.”
“Why not?” Farley raises an eyebrow.
The crimson eyes meet mine, waiting for me to answer. “Gareth can fly, something no known Silver can do. Maven won’t want anyone to see that, even his sworn soldiers.” Cal nods next to me, knowing his brother as much—or as little—as I do. “He told the kingdom newbloods didn’t exist, and he intends to keep it that way.”
“One of his many mistakes,” Jon muses, his voice dreamy and faraway. He probably is, looking into a future none of us can comprehend. “But you’ll find that out soon enough.”
I expect Farley to be the one to snarl at more riddles, but Shade beats her to it. He leans forward on his hands, so that he towers over Jon. “Did you come here to show off? Or just to waste our time?”
I can’t help but wonder the same thing.
The gray man doesn’t flinch, even in the face of my brother’s restrained anger. “Indeed I did, Shade. A few more miles and Maven’s eyes would see you coming. Or would you have liked to walk into his trap? I confess, I can see action, but not thought, and perhaps you wanted to be imprisoned and executed?” He looks around at us, his tone shockingly cheerful. One side of his mouth lifts, curving his lips into a half smile. “Pitarus would have ended in death, and even worse fates.”
Worse fates. Under the table, Cal’s hand closes over my own, as if he feels the tremble of dread coiling in my stomach. Without thought, I open my palm to him, letting his fingers find mine. What worse fates were planned for us, I don’t even want to ask. “Thank you, Jon.” My voice is thick with fear. “For saving us.”
“You saved nothing,” Cal says quickly, and his grip tightens. “Any decision could have changed what you saw. A misstep in the woods, the beating of a bird’s wings. I know how people like you see, and how wrong your predictions can become.”
Jon’s smile deepens, until it splits his face. That rankles Cal more than anything else, even more than his birth name. “I see farther and clearer than any of the Silver eyes you’ve ever met. But it will be your choice to hear what I must say. Although, you do come to believe me,” he adds, almost winking. “Sometime aroun
d your discovery of the jail. Julian Jacos is a friend, is he not?”
Now both our hands are shaking.
“He is,” I murmur, eyes wide and hopeful. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Again, Jon’s eyes gloss over. He mutters to himself, words inaudible, and nods occasionally. On the table, his fingers twitch, moving back and forth like a rake through tilled earth. Pushing and pulling, but at what?
“Yes, he is alive. But he is scheduled for execution, as is . . .” He pauses, thinking. “Sara Skonos.”
The next moments pass strangely, with Jon answering all our questions before we can get them past our lips. “Maven plans to announce their executions, to set another trap for you and yours. They are being held at Corros Prison. It’s not abandoned, Tiberias, but rebuilt for Silver imprisonment. Silent Stone in the walls, diamondglass reinforcements, and military guards. No, that’s not all for Julian and Sara. There are other dissenters within the cells, imprisoned for questioning the new king or crossing his mother. House Lerolan has been particularly difficult, as well as House Iral. And the newblood prisoners are proving to be just as dangerous as the Silvers.”
“Newbloods?” explodes from me, cutting off Jon as he continues, rapid-fire.
“The ones you never found, the ones you assumed to be dead. They were taken to observe, to examine, but Lord Jacos refused to study them. Even after . . . persuasion.”
Bile rises in my mouth. Persuasion can only mean torture.
“There are worse things than pain, Miss Barrow,” Jon says softly. “The newbloods are now at the mercy of Queen Elara. She intends on using them—with precision.” His eyes stray to Cal and they share a glance filled with painful understanding. “They will be weapons against their own, controlled by the queen and her kin, if given enough time. And that is a very, very dark road. You must not allow this to happen.” His cracked and dirty nails dig into the table, carving deep grooves into the blackened wood. “You must not.”
Glass Sword Page 27