Glass Sword

by Victoria Aveyard

  I remember the photograph in his quarters. He had another daughter, and a wife, two people who aren’t here now. “We all need some time,” I tell him, hoping that’s enough.

  “Don’t give them too much. It’s not good to let them dwell on your sins.”

  I can’t find the heart to argue, because he’s right. I lashed out at the people closest to me, and showed them the monster beneath my skin.

  “And what about this Red problem you mentioned?” he continues. “Anything I should know about?”

  Back on the jet, I told Cal I was going north. Half of me said it out of anger, to prove something to him. The other half said it because it is the right thing to do. Because I’ve ignored things for far too long.

  “A few days ago we intercepted a march order. The first of the child legions is being sent to the Choke.” My breath hitches, remembering what Ada said. “They’re going to be massacred, ordered to march out past the trenches, right into the kill zone. Five thousand of them, slaughtered.”

  “Newbloods?” the Colonel prods.

  I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”

  He settles a hand on his pistol, draws up his spine, and spits at the floor. “Well, Command did order me to help you. I think it’s time we did something useful together.”

  The infirmary is quiet, a good place to wait. Sara was allowed to leave the barracks designated for Silver use, and she made quick work of anyone injured. Now the beds are empty but for one. I lie on my side, staring at the long window in front of me. The deceivingly blue sky has faded into steel gray. Another storm maybe, or perhaps my eyes have darkened. I simply cannot see any more sunlight today. The sheets are soft, worn by too many washings, and I fight the urge to pull them up and over my head. As if that could stop the memories from coming, each one breaking hard as an iron wave. Shade’s last moment, his eyes wide, one hand reaching for me, before the blood burst from his chest. He was coming back to save me, and it got him killed. I feel like I did so many months ago, when I hid in the woods, unable to face Gisa and her broken hand. Now I can’t stand the thought of returning to my family and seeing the hole Shade left behind. They are certainly wondering where I am, the girl who cost them a son. But it is not a Barrow that finds me here.

  “Shall I come back later, or have you finished feeling sorry for yourself?”

  I sit up sharply, only to see Julian standing at the foot of my bed. His color has returned, as have his missing teeth, courtesy of Sara. But for the mismatched clothes, leftovers from the Tuck stores, he looks like his old self again. I expect a smile, maybe even a thank-you, but not a scolding. Not from him.

  “Can a girl get a moment’s peace around here?” I huff, falling back against the thin pillow.

  “By my reckoning, you’ve been hiding for the better part of an hour. I think that’s more than a moment, Mare.” The old teacher is trying his best to be kind. It isn’t working.

  “If you must know, I’m waiting on the Colonel. We have an operation to plan, and he’s rounding up volunteers as we speak.” So there. But Julian isn’t that easily deterred.

  “And you decided taking a nap was a better use of your time than, say, addressing the other newbloods, maybe calming down a bunch of very jumpy Silvers, getting some medical attention, or even speaking with your own grieving family?”

  “I have not missed your lectures, Julian.”

  “You lie well, Mare,” he says, smiling.

  He closes the distance between us almost too quickly, coming to sit beside me. He smells clean, fresh from a shower. This close, I can see how thin he’s become, and the hollow emptiness of his eyes. Even Sara cannot heal minds. “And a lecture needs a listener. You are certainly not listening to me anymore.” He lowers his voice and tips my face, making me look at him. I’m tired enough to let him. “Or anyone, for that matter. Not even Cal.”

  “Are you going to yell at me too?”

  He smiles sadly. “Have I ever?”

  “No,” I whisper, wishing I didn’t have to. “No, you haven’t.”

  “And I’m not about to start now. I have only come to tell you what you need to hear. I will not make you listen, I will not make you obey. I leave you the choice. As it should be.”

  “Okay.”

  “I told you once that anyone can betray anyone. I know you remember.” Oh, do I remember. “And I say it again. Anyone, anything, can betray anyone. Even your own heart.”

  “Julian—”

  “No one is born evil, just like no one is born alone. They become that way, through choice and circumstance. The latter you cannot control, but the former . . . Mare, I am very afraid for you. Things have been done to you, things no person should suffer. You’ve seen horrible things, done horrible things, and they will change you. I’m so afraid for what you could be, if given the wrong chance.”

  So am I.

  I let my hand close around his. The connection is calming enough, but weak. Our bond is strained at best, and I don’t know how to fix it. “I will try, Julian,” I murmur. “I will try.”

  In the back of my mind, I wonder. Will Julian tell tales of me one day? When I have become something wretched, someone like Elara, with nothing and no one to love her? Will I simply be the girl who tried? No. I cannot think that way. I will not. I am Mare Barrow. I am strong enough. I’ve done things, terrible things, and I don’t deserve forgiveness for them. But I see it in Julian’s eyes all the same. And it fills me with such hope. I will not become a monster, no matter what I must do in the days ahead. I will not lose who I am, even if it kills me.

  “Now, do you need me to walk you to your family’s bunk, or can you find the way?”

  I can’t help but snort. “Do you even know the way?”

  “It’s not polite to question your elders, lightning girl.”

  “I had a teacher once who told me to question everything.”

  His eyes twinkle and he puffs out his weak chest proudly. “Your teacher was a smart man.”

  I notice his eyes lingering, and the light in them goes out. He stares at my exposed collarbone, at the brand there. I debate covering it up, but decide not to move. I won’t hide the M burned into me, not from him.

  “Sara can fix that,” he murmurs. “Shall I get her?”

  On shaky legs, I stand. There are many scars I want her to heal, but not this one. “No.” Let it be a reminder to us all.

  Arm in arm, we leave the empty infirmary. It echoes with our footsteps, a white room steadily fading to gray. Outside, a shade has been drawn across the world. Winter waits on our doorstep—it will knock soon. But I like the cold air. It wakes me up.

  As we cross the central yard, heading for Barracks 3, I take note of the compound. A few familiar faces mix in with the various groups, some training, others transporting goods or simply milling around. I spot Ada sliding beneath a broken transport, an instruction manual in hand. Lory kneels next to her, sifting through a pile of tools. A few yards away, Darmian falls in with a troop of Guardsmen, joining them on a jog. They’re the only ones from the Notch I see, and it turns my stomach. Cameron, Nix, Nanny, Gareth, Ketha, where are they? I feel quite sick, but swallow the sensation. I only have the strength to mourn the person I know for sure is dead.

  Julian is not permitted to enter Barracks 3. He informs me of this with a tight-lipped smile, his words dripping disdain. There’s no way to enforce the order, but he obeys it all the same. “I’m just trying to be a ‘good’ Silver,” he says dryly. “The Colonel’s already been kind enough to let us out of our barracks. I would hate to betray his trust.”

  “I’ll come find you after.” I squeeze his shoulder. “It must be getting pretty bad in there.”

  Julian only shrugs. “Sara is taking her time healing—we don’t want too many overpowered, underfed, and angry Silvers in an enclosed space. And they know what you did for them. They have no reason to make a fuss—yet.” Yet. A simple but effective warning. The Colonel doesn’t know how to handle so many Silver refuge
es, and will certainly misstep soon.

  “I’ll do my best,” I sigh, and add quelling a possible riot to my growing to-do list. Don’t cry in front of Mom, apologize to Farley, figure out how to save five thousand children, nanny a bunch of Silvers, put my head through a wall. Seems doable.

  The barracks is as I remember, full of labyrinthine twists and turns. I get lost once or twice, but finally I find the door with the purple scarf tied to the doorknob. It’s firmly shut, and I have to knock.

  Bree opens the door. His face is red from crying, and that almost does me in right then and there. “Took you long enough,” he growls, stepping back so I can enter. I flinch at his harsh tone, but don’t retaliate. Instead, I put a hand on his arm. He cringes, but doesn’t pull away.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. And then, louder, to the rest of the room, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

  Gisa and Tramy sit on mismatched chairs. Mom curls up on one of the beds, with Dad and his chair firmly planted next to her. While she turns away, hiding her face in a pillow, he looks straight at me.

  “You had things to do,” Dad says. Gruff as always, but more insulting than he’s ever been. I deserve it. “We understand.”

  “I should’ve been here.” I move farther into the room. How can I feel lost in such a small space? “I brought his body back.”

  “We’ve seen it,” Bree snaps, taking a seat on the bunk opposite Mom. It sags under his enormous weight. “One little blast of a needle, and he’s gone.”

  “I remember,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

  Gisa twitches in her chair, her thin legs drawn up beneath herself. She flexes her bad hand, distracting herself. “Do you know who killed him?”

  “Ptolemus Samos. A magnetron.” Back in the arena, Cal could’ve killed the wretched man. But he was merciful. And his mercy killed my brother.

  “I know that name,” Tramy says, just to have something to fill the tense air. “He was one of your executioners. Couldn’t get you, but he got Shade.” It sounds like an accusation. I have to look down, examining my shoes instead of the hurt in his eyes.

  “Did you get him back at least?” Bree gets to his feet again, unable to keep still. He towers over me, trying to look intimidating. He forgets that I’m not scared of brute force anymore. “Did you?”

  “I killed a lot of people.” My voice breaks, but I soldier on. “I don’t even know how many, I just know the queen was one of them.”

  On the bed, Mom pulls up, finally deciding to look at me. Her eyes swim with tears. “The queen?” she whispers, breathless.

  “We have her body as well,” I say, almost too eager. Talking about her corpse is easier than grieving for my brother. So I tell them about the broadcast, what we hope to do.

  The horrible thing should go out tonight, during the evening news bulletins. They’re mandatory now, an addition to the Measures, forcing every person in the kingdom to eat lies and propaganda with their dinner. A youthful, eager king, another victory in the trenches, and the like, but not tomorrow. Instead, Norta will see their dead queen. And the world will hear our call to arms. Bree paces, grinning madly at the thought of civil war, and Tramy follows, as he always does. They jabber between each other, already dreaming of marching into Archeon together, and planting our red flag on the ruins of Whitefire Palace. Gisa is less enthusiastic.

  “I guess you won’t be here for long,” she says, forlorn. “They’ll need you back on the mainland, recruiting again.”

  “No, I won’t be recruiting, at least not for a while.”

  I can’t stand the hope that sparks in them, especially Mom. I almost don’t tell them at all, but last time I left so suddenly. I won’t do that to them again. “I’m going to the Choke, and soon.”

  Dad roars so loudly I expect him to fall out of his wheelchair. “You will not! Not while I still draw breath!” He wheezes to emphasize his point. “No child of mine will ever return to that place. Ever. And don’t you dare tell me I can’t stop you, because believe me, I can and I will.”

  Once, the Choke took Dad’s leg and a lung. He gave so much to that place. And now, I guess he thinks he’s going to lose me to it too. “I’m sure you would, Dad.” I try to humor him. That usually works.

  But this time he waves me off, wheeling up to me so fast his leg bumps my shin. He glares like a demon, one quivering finger pointed at my face. “Give me your word, Mare Barrow.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” And I tell him why. Five thousand children, five thousand sons and daughters. Cameron was right all along. The divisions of blood are still very real, and they can’t be tolerated any longer.

  “Let someone else go,” he growls, trying his best not to fall apart. I never wished to see my father cry, and now I wish I could forget the sight. “The Colonel, that prince, someone else can do it.” He clutches my arm like a man at sea.

  “Daniel.” Mom’s voice is soft, soothing, a single white cloud in an empty sky. “Let her go.”

  When I pry his hand from my wrist, I realize I’m crying too.

  “We’ll go with her.”

  Bree barely gets the words out before I can tell him no. Dad’s face purples, his sadness giving way to anger. “Do you want me to die of a heart attack?” he snarls, spinning to face my oldest brother.

  “She’s never been to the Choke, she doesn’t know what it’s like up there,” Tramy pipes in. “We do. Spent almost a decade between us on the trench lines.”

  I shake my head, putting out a hand to stop him before Dad really does lose it. “The Colonel’s coming, he’s seen the Choke too, there’s no need—”

  “Maybe from the Lakelander side.” Bree’s already at his trunk, going through his things. Looking for what to bring. “But the Nortan trenches are a different design. He’ll be turned around in seconds.”

  It’s probably the smartest thing I’ve ever heard Bree say. He’s not known for his brain, but then again, he survived almost five years on the lines. That’s four years longer than most. It can’t be luck. I realize instead, this is bravery from both of them, more than I can possibly know. Once I thought about how much of my life my older brothers missed—but I’ve done the same. They are not as I remember. They are warriors as much as I am.

  My silence is all they need to start packing. I wish I could tell them not to come. They would listen if I truly meant it. But I can’t. I need them, just like I needed Shade.

  I only hope I won’t lead another brother into the grave.

  After a long moment, I realize I’m shaking. So I climb into bed next to my mother, and I let her hold me for a long while. I do my best not to cry. My best is not enough.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The mess hall is crowded, but not for a meal. The Colonel put out the call for a “top-priority operation” only an hour ago, and the room bursts with his handpicked men as well as volunteers. The Lakelanders are quiet, well trained, and stoic. The Guardsmen are much rowdier, though Farley is anything but. She’s been reinstated as a captain, but shows no sign of noticing. She sits in silence, absently twisting a red scarf around her hands. When I enter the mess, flanked by my brothers, the noise dies away, and every eye watches me. Except Farley. She doesn’t look up at all. Lory and Darmian actually clap as I walk across the room, making me blush. Ada joins in, and then, to my delight, Nanny stands up next to her, as does Cameron. They made it. I exhale a little, trying to feel relieved. But there’s still no sign of Nix, Gareth, or Ketha. They could have chosen not to come. They must be sick of danger by now. That’s what I tell myself as I sit down next to Farley. Bree and Tramy follow, taking the seats directly behind me, like bodyguards.

  We are not the last to arrive. Harrick slips in, having just arrived from the Notch, and shoots me a curt nod. He holds the door open, allowing Kilorn to enter. My heartbeat doubles when Cal follows, trailing at his heels, with Julian and Sara behind him. My entrance was quiet—this is the opposite. At the sight of three Silvers, many jump to their feet, mostl
y Lakelanders. In the din, it’s hard to hear their shouts, but the meaning is clear. We do not want you here.

  Cal and I lock eyes through the commotion, if only for a second. He turns away first, finding a seat at the back of the room. Julian and Sara stick close to his side, ignoring the jeers, while Kilorn picks his way to the front. He drags a chair with him, and plops down beside me. He gives me a casual nod, as if we’re just sitting down to lunch.

  “So what’s all this about?” he says, his voice loud enough to be heard over the noise.

  I stare at my friend, perplexed. The last time I saw him, he was prying me off Farley, and looked disgusted with my existence. Now he’s all but smiling. He even pulls an apple from his jacket and offers me first bite. Shaky but sure, I take the gift.

  “You weren’t yourself,” he whispers in my ear. He pulls the apple away again, taking a bite. “Forget about it. But go off the rails like that again and we’ll have to settle this Stilts-style. Yeah?”

  My scars twinge as I smile. “Yeah.” And lower, so only he can hear me. “Thank you.”

  For a second, he stills, strangely thoughtful. Then he waves a hand, smirking. “Please, I’ve seen you way worse than that.” A comforting lie, but I let him tell it anyway “Now, what’s this top-priority business? Your idea or the Colonel’s?”

  As if on cue, the Colonel enters the mess, his hands stretched wide, asking for silence. “Mine,” I murmur, as the complaints fade away.

  “Quiet,” he barks, his voice like a whip crack. The Lakelanders obey at once, taking their seats in practiced motion. His glare is enough to shut up the other dissenters. He points to the back of the room—to Cal, Julian, and Sara. “Those three are Silver, yes, but proven allies to the cause. They have my permission to be here. You will treat them as you would any ally, any brother or sister at arms.”

  It silences them all. For now.

  “You’re here because you’ve volunteered for an operation without knowing what it is. That’s true bravery, and I commend you all for it,” he continues, taking his place at the front of the hall. I get the sense he’s done this before. In this setting, the cropped hair and red eye give him an air of authority, as does his commanding voice. “As you know, the lowered conscription age has resulted in younger soldiers, down to the age of fifteen. At present, one such legion is on their way to the war front. Five thousand strong, all with only two months of training.” An angry murmur goes through the crowd. “We owe our gratitude to Mare Barrow and her team for giving us this information.”