The others paused for a moment, processing the unexpected, instantaneous death of one of their number. Then, as I gathered myself for a second strike, all hell broke loose.
As one, the pixies in the pipe rushed downward with so much force that the soft copper tore from its socket. And like water from a broken dam, the pixies were free. They surged outward in a wave, filling the air with flashes of light and sound. Razor-sharp wings buzzed my face; something tore at my hair; I opened my mouth to scream, and one of them grabbed at my lip.
I swatted it away, flailing out in darkness, senses and magic battling for dominance. In every way except my magic I was blind, but the pixies were moving so quickly that my magic couldn’t track them. I tried to strike out at a glowing streak just above my head, but by the time my darkness found it, it was already gone.
A metallic scream somewhere in front of me told me that Nix was waging its own battle, fighting against its brethren. Something crashed to the floor and shattered, and I knew at least one of the pixies was down. I couldn’t tell how many there were—dozens, at least. And we’d only killed two.
Something slid in under the collar of my shirt and then went racing down my spine, a thousand needlelike legs stabbing into my skin. I gasped and threw myself back against the wall with enough force to daze myself, hearing the crunch of delicate mechanisms between me and the stone. The pixies were everywhere, swarming in my hair, against my face, crawling up the legs of my pants. One landed on my hand, and even as I tried to shake it loose, I felt it prying at my fingernails, trying to rip them away.
“Nix!” I screamed, unsure if my only ally was even still alive—that crashing pixie earlier could have been my friend. “Help—”
But if Nix was out there, it was too busy to come to my aid. I gathered up all my magic in a knot, letting it build and build until my ears sang with the pounding of my heart—and then I let it explode in a wave, knocking the pixies away.
For a moment, I could see everything. As the magic I’d just released ricocheted back to me, it was like dropping a torch down a bottomless well—the light rippled through everything and then vanished again. But I had what I needed. The pixies moved too fast to catch with my magic, but I could still target something that wasn’t moving.
I spun and sprinted back down the corridor toward the Hub. My blast of magic had only bought me a few precious seconds, but a few seconds was all I needed. The pixies were faster than I was; I could hear them gaining on me, screaming the mad, vindictive whine that I’d heard only once before, a sound that still haunted my nightmares. This time there was no Wall to escape through, no leap of faith I could take to leave them behind.
Then the ground crumbled underneath me and my foot rolled on a loose cobblestone. “Nix, get clear!” I had no idea where my ally was, but I had to trust it could get out of the way. I threw myself forward, hitting the cobblestones and rolling. As soon as I slid to a halt I lashed out with my magic; out, and up.
There came a loud groaning of earth and stone, but for a moment nothing else happened. I pulled with all my might, seeking out a weakness in the arched, cobbled ceilings of the tunnel. Then something splashed heavily into the muck and a handful of sand pattered against my face; and then the entire ceiling was caving in.
I curled into a ball, lifting my arms to cover my neck. I’d been aiming for the ceiling halfway down the corridor, but the whole tunnel was coming down, and rocks pelted my arms and shoulders, the force knocking me half unconscious when one ricocheted against the back of my head.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the cave-in was over. For a long moment I couldn’t move, and my panic surged. I was trapped. I was buried alive, and no one would find me, they’d all stay wrapped up in Eve’s magic and no one would ever know what happened to me—
But then the adrenaline faded a little, and I found I was merely frozen, fear and shock turning my limbs to iron. Slowly, I willed the feeling back into them and managed to push up onto my hands, sending pebbles and dirt cascading onto the rubble around me. Behind me, the entire tunnel was a solid pile of rock now. I reached out with my magic, trying to find any signs that there were pixies unharmed.
There, a flash of magic. I turned, focusing in on it, letting the shadow out.
“Lark, don’t!”
I reeled back, trying to rein in the hunger. Then another streak seared across my brain, and I whirled. There was one pixie left, flying straight toward the Hub. I cast out, hoping I could substitute raw power for precision just once more—and plucked the pixie out of the air.
I bled it dry and then let it clatter to the floor, lifeless.
“Well done,” came Nix’s voice out of the darkness. It didn’t sound as smug as usual—instead its voice quivered uncharacteristically.
I let out the breath I was holding and fell backward, letting the darkness wash over me.
• • •
I only discovered the extent of my injuries as I made my way back to the Hub. Blood was dripping down my face from somewhere, and my left arm was difficult to move, no doubt from the impact of one of the falling stones. My ankle was twisted—not badly, but enough so that every step was painful. I had to rest often, and just for a moment, I was glad Oren wasn’t there to see me stopping every ten yards to lean against the wall.
When I reached the Hub, the crowds were still gathered around Eve. She lifted her head as I came to a halt, her eyes meeting mine. She must have read my victory on my features, because she smiled and straightened. The crowd straightened with her, reading her body language.
“Breathe easy, my friends.” She nodded at me, then shifted her gaze back to sweep across the faces of those clustered around her. “We’re safe again, for now.”
A ripple went through the crowd, relief making them press in closer around Eve. Caesar stood just in front of the table on which Eve stood, blocking anyone from trying to climb up there with her. I had no doubt that but for his presence, Eve would’ve been swarmed.
“It isn’t her victory,” came Nix’s voice by my ear. It was taut with tinny hostility.
“It doesn’t matter whose victory it is,” I murmured, tasting salt and copper on my lips; blood and sweat pooled together from the scratches on my face.
“You don’t believe that.”
I didn’t answer. Nix knew me too well. For all I knew, it could read the bitterness in my voice, sense my elevated pulse.
A dark shape separated itself from the crowd and drifted closer—Oren. The bands constricting my chest eased a little. At least he wasn’t under the same spell everyone else was. He came toward me, half reaching out. I shied away, though—I couldn’t handle the transfer of power between us, not right now. I was still too wired from the fight, too sensitive.
He paused, hand still outstretched, then slowly let it fall again. “Are you hurt?” he asked after clearing his throat.
I shook my head. “A few scrapes. I’m fine.”
Oren’s chest rose and fell visibly, the only outward sign of his relief. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowds pressing in around Eve, adoring, grateful. “You should have seen her,” he said softly.
“Seen who?” But I knew who he meant. His voice held a hushed tension I couldn’t—wouldn’t—identify.
“Eve.” His gaze was distant, fixed on her face across the room. “She kept them calm, prevented a panic that would’ve almost certainly cost a dozen people their lives.”
“Lark stopped an infiltration that would have certainly cost everyone here their lives.”
I wanted to hush Nix, but Oren wasn’t even listening. “I know you don’t trust her,” he said. “But I think you should meet her. Really meet her, not just see her. There’s something about her. Something—” He shook his head, searching and failing to find the words he wanted.
Abruptly I realized what was in Oren’s voice, the current lightening it from his usual dark murmur. Like a torrent of cold water, I knew. Admiration.
I swallowed hard, my throat so tig
ht it felt swollen. “It’s taken me a year to learn to trust my instincts,” I whispered, though it wasn’t necessary—no one was listening to us. “I’ve been betrayed by more people than I can count. I won’t let it happen again, not when my own people are at stake.”
Oren finally tore his eyes away from Eve so he could watch me, brow furrowed. “Lark, I know you think I’m like them—that we’re all under some sort of spell. But she’s different. You said yourself that you weren’t sure you were a leader. You didn’t know if you were the right person for this task. Here’s your answer.”
I stared at him. “You’re saying I’m not the right person?”
“No, I’m saying that Eve is a leader. What more could you have asked for? You can concentrate on what matters, on the fight, and she can be the flag these people rally behind.”
He was right. I knew he was right, and yet my stomach was still in knots, my eyes still burned. I wanted to reply, but movement caught my eye. Caesar had climbed up beside Eve onto the table and was scanning the crowd. When his gaze met mine, he gave a jerk of his head that was an unmistakable gesture.
Come with me.
Then he climbed down and ushered Eve away, standing between her and the now-cheerful crowd of people like a bodyguard.
Oren shoved his hands into his pockets, chin tucked and watching me through his eyelashes. It was such a familiar habit that I felt myself breathe again, a little of my nameless fear easing away.
“You’re right,” I said, hoping I sounded more sure of myself than I was. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 12
Caesar brought Eve to a room I hadn’t seen yet. It was furnished like a bedroom, but was much larger than the cell Oren and I shared. I wondered briefly if it was Caesar’s room, but as we entered, Eve was sinking down onto the edge of the bed. If it had once been Caesar’s room, it was no longer.
I had to fight the urge to grab the door frame. Only Oren half a step behind me kept me moving. I could not explain what made me fight so hard against Eve. I refused to believe it was vanity alone, or pique at having my people choose her over me. Nix was all outrage on my behalf, and I could feel it vibrating against my neck like a tiny, furious ball of spite. I felt no anger—no more than usual, anyway. When I looked at Eve I felt something else entirely.
Fear.
I stepped through the door, my eyes on Eve. She looked up as soon as I entered, her white eyes meeting mine and her pale lips curving into a smile. “Welcome, sister.”
Caesar twitched at that, looking at me and then glancing away again. The word came more easily to this strange woman’s lips than to his own.
“Hello, Eve.” They were the first words I’d spoken to her. The first words out loud, anyway. I could feel her mind fluttering against the edges of my own, as though drawn by the connection we’d once shared through the Institute’s Machine. I hardened my thoughts, imagining iron, and the spiderweb touch faded away.
If Eve noticed my shutting her out, she didn’t show it. Her smile didn’t flicker; her eyes didn’t leave my face.
“How were they able to rescue you?” I asked, forcing my gaze away from hers, to rest upon my brother. “The chamber where they were keeping you was in the very heart of the Institute.”
“The architects had moved me,” replied Eve, not missing a beat.
“Kris told us,” interrupted Caesar. “Before he vanished.”
“Moved you?” For once, I wished I could read Eve’s thoughts. But fear kept me from meddling with the curtain that separated her mind from mine. “What were they trying to do?”
But Eve just lifted one white shoulder, seeming untroubled by the actions of her captors. “It doesn’t matter. I’m free now.” Her brows drew in as she watched me, and when she spoke again her voice was soft and warm with regret. “I am sorry the people out there didn’t witness you fighting on their behalf. I could feel your battle. You are truly amazing.”
Uneasy, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Thank you. It’s all what the Institute did to me, though. This power isn’t mine.”
Eve’s smile returned, though it was a smaller, more secret thing. Something more private. “Just because something is given to you doesn’t mean it isn’t yours.” She lifted a hand so that I could see her white flesh, and the glow I’d seen when I first saw her returned, more dimly. “I am what they made me too.”
I cleared my throat. “Oren tells me that you kept the people here from panicking. That’s no small task itself.” And probably not something I could have done.
Eve shook her head. “If you had been there they would have listened to you as well. We aren’t so different, Lark.”
Her freckles, though faded a little, were still visible. All at once I was reminded that she wasn’t from this city. She’d grown up under the sky, in the Iron Wood, a warrior and a scout like Tansy. I tried to see Tansy’s fierceness and strength in Eve, and all I could see was—nothing. Eve was like a blank slate.
No—more like a window. Transparent, transmitting light and warmth and nothing else.
Oren cleared his throat. “I saw the way you handled those people,” he said. “I thought we were going to have a riot break out, and you kept them all calm.”
Eve smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze fixed on him, lips slightly parted. She looked as fascinated as everyone else was with her. Jealousy tried to surge up in a rush of bile, but I swallowed and ignored the impulse.
“Eve,” I said quietly, “This is Oren, my friend. He’s from the outside too.”
“I can see that,” she replied, her clear eyes never leaving his face.
Oren’s face had drained of some of its color, and as soon as I saw him I knew why. Eve knew. I didn’t know how or why, but one look was enough to realize that she’d seen what he was. It would take only one word from her to betray his secret and expose him as a shadow to the entire resistance.
But Eve just smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oren.”
Caesar watched this exchange with a frown. I wasn’t the only one fighting off jealousy. “Eve, do you need anything? Food, water?”
“Just rest,” she replied, turning a fond look on Caesar.
His scowl vanished. To my astonishment, his eyes lightened and, as I watched, his mouth moved into the unfamiliar form of a smile. A true smile, not the grimace he’d always shown me. “You can talk to Lark later, then. Come on.” That last was directed at me, and spoken far more roughly.
“Thank you, Caesar.” Eve reached out to lay her hand over his. My head throbbed, eyes straining as though I was staring at the sun. I turned my head away, confused. “But I would like to speak to your sister a moment longer. Will I see you for dinner?”
It was a dismissal, not a question. As though her touch had robbed him of his senses, Caesar nodded, mumbling incoherently. He backed toward the door, and just before he closed it behind him, I actually caught him smiling broadly enough that his teeth showed briefly through the dark tangle of his beard.
I continued to stare after he’d departed, as though the closed door would somehow explain the transformation I’d seen in my brother right before my eyes. A small laugh behind me made me turn back.
“He isn’t the dark, foreboding figure you think him to be.” Eve got to her feet. Even that small movement was graceful, so much so that I couldn’t help but stare.
“How do you know what I think of him?” I asked finally.
“He is your brother, and yet your reunion was colder than the meeting of two strangers. Caesar doesn’t speak of you. You barely look at him.” Eve shook her head, the gesture so full of sadness that my own heart ached in sympathy.
I felt an urge to confide in her, so certain she would understand; so sure that she could help heal the rift between my brother and me. I resisted, gritting my teeth. This was Eve’s magic, not my own desire. With an effort, I said, “You said that you wanted to speak to me?”
Eve’s eyes slid from my face to Oren’s, who st
ood beside me, silent since it became clear what Eve saw in him. “I actually wished to speak to your friend, Oren. But I thought that might seem strange to Caesar, and the last thing I want to do is force you to reveal this secret before you’re ready.”
I swallowed hard, but I was saved from trying when Oren stepped forward, his face tight. “How did you know?”
Eve sighed, her eyes scanning Oren’s features. She didn’t reply for several minutes, but Oren didn’t seem to notice, so tight was his focus on her. Finally she took a step forward so she was only a pace or two away from him. “You poor, frightened child,” she murmured. “You’ve been lost in the dark for so long, all alone. What horrors you must have seen, what despair. To have no escape, no respite.”
Oren swallowed. His voice, when it came, sounded strained, as if it was an effort to speak. “I have Lark.”
My heart lurched in sympathy, but it was Eve who replied. “Yes,” she agreed, her voice warm. “And now you have me, too. I cannot pretend to be what Lark is to you, but I will be your friend.”
That was going too far—Oren was not the kind of person to share his feelings and have heart-to-heart chats with anyone, even me. I watched Eve’s face, waiting for Oren’s snort of laughter. It didn’t come.
He made a choking sound instead. Astonished, I turned to see tears in his eyes. I couldn’t move; I watched, horrified, as one spilled down his cheek, clinging halfway down. He didn’t even lift a hand to wipe it away.
“You know what I am,” he said hoarsely. “Why are you being so kind? Why aren’t you frightened?”
“Because I know this wasn’t your choice. If you could, you’d leave the shadow behind forever.”
Oren nodded, speechless. I felt almost like an intruder, as though I was spying on a moment so intensely private that I could not fully understand what was taking place.
“And because I can change all of that,” she went on, her white eyes burning with empathy, with certainty. “I can make you whole.”
The languor that had kept me silent this whole time snapped abruptly, and I found myself blinking between them. “Wait,” I said, croaking through a hoarse throat, fear rising like a smothering cloud, though I had no idea why I was afraid. “What are you saying?”
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