by Everly Frost
“I’m what, Michael?”
“This,” he said, waving at her warrior’s clothing. “Who are you?”
“Walk with me please. Quickly. All of you. If we move fast we’ll reach Mother before sunrise.”
Her voice was quiet, and the silence around us stretched out across the dunes. Rift didn’t let go of Ember’s hand as he walked beside me and I was surprised to see that she allowed it. Although, when I glanced at her face, she was clearly struggling with the contact.
Michael’s hand found mine as if he needed an anchor.
“Mom, they called you a Daughter of Eve.” He swallowed, keeping his voice low. “Did they mean that literally?”
“Yes and no.” Helen’s expression was shadowed in the firelight. One of the cubs careered toward her and she stroked its head before it gallivanted away.
“I’m Eve’s great-great-granddaughter.”
“But … how is that even possible? Eve lived thousands of years ago.”
“I’m one of the immortals, Michael. Eve had many children, but only her first daughter—my great-grandmother—inherited her immortality. And only her first daughter inherited her immortality, and so on. My mother was three thousand years old when she had me. I was a thousand years old when I had you.”
I gaped at her. “But you look as old as my mom. She’s only in her fifties.”
Helen winked, a strangely modern expression on her face. “I age well.”
But the lightheartedness quickly fled her face. “I lived for a thousand years not knowing what love was. Then I met Michael’s father and everything changed. He was an enigma to me. A mystery. He had so many secrets. And such an inquisitive mind. He questioned everything. Then, when my sons were born … I felt like I hadn’t really lived before that.”
“But…” Michael shook his head. “You must be like royalty here.”
“I am.”
“But you left all of this behind…”
Helen stopped and whirled, the intensity in her voice beyond belief. “When I found out I was carrying you, Michael, nothing could make me stay here. And when I had to leave you in Evereach … to take Jason to safety … part of me…”
She turned away quickly, but not before tears glistened in her eyes.
Michael let go of my hand with a squeeze, swapping places with me. “Mom?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, Michael.”
“I don’t hate you. And … I don’t want to waste any more time being angry at you for making a choice you didn’t want to make.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, breathing it out, her voice wobbly. “Thank you, darling.”
It was the closest to reconciliation that they were going to get. I couldn’t see Michael’s face from that side, but when his mom looked across at him she smiled and I hoped it was a reflection of the smile he was giving her.
“So … I have a lot of questions,” Michael said. “People have always called me immortal, but you said that immortality only flowed to daughters. I’m guessing that means I’m not really immortal. Not like you anyway.”
“You’re right. Male children don’t inherit immortality. But you will live longer than most people because of your heritage.”
“Mrs. Bradley?” I asked. “What do you know about Alexander?”
She sighed. “I was born a thousand years ago. And on the very same night, two boys were born to another woman in the Rivera tribe. They were twins, not identical—in fact, completely different—but still very rare. We grew up together and one of them … decided that he loved me.”
“Alexander?”
She nodded. “He was a different person then. Quiet. Thoughtful. He was instrumental in bringing the tribes together. In fact, he negotiated the end of the Fracture, bringing about peace through the creation of the Republic and the Presidency—a way for all the tribes to be equally represented. He was the mouthpiece of the cause and his brother was the force. Just to get an audience with the tribal leaders, his brother would fight and defeat the strongest warrior from each tribe. Once he succeeded, it was Alexander’s turn to speak for peace.
“When they finally had the agreement of all the tribes to create a Seversandian government, he and his brother walked through these very dunes to the garden to give thanks.”
“The song on the coffin,” I murmured, kicking sand as I walked.
“Immortality was beyond Alexander’s reach. I thought he’d accepted that—I think he even believed he had. But all the time he was speaking out for peace, what he was really doing was trying to sure up his right to be worthy. So when he and his brother touched the branches of the tree…”
Ember said, “It gave them a plum and a flower, right?”
“The plum grew for Alexander’s brother. The flower grew for Alexander. He knew enough about Eve’s immortality to know that only eating the fruit would give him what he truly wanted.”
She exhaled, as if the pain inside her was too much. “I think he convinced himself that he did it for love. To be with me forever. But I was with them that day. All I saw in Alexander’s eyes was envy. Envy so awful. And betrayal. After all he’d done for Seversand, how could his brother be offered immortality instead of him?”
I remembered the day I fell from the cliffs and the disgust in Alexander’s eyes as he looked at the flower Michael and I had created. He’d said something about receiving two flowers and never the fruit.
I said, “Forgive me for asking, Mrs. Bradley, but in order to die … his brother must have been mortal. Is that right?”
She nodded. “Alexander never guessed because of all the fights his brother had won. I believe it was because he was mortal—because he had so much to lose—that Joseph fought the way he did with so much conviction. I think Alexander believed, when he stabbed Joseph, that he would simply delay him long enough to snatch the fruit from him. But … when he saw his brother dying…”
Her hands shook. The torchlight flickered all over the place and Michael tugged the torch from his mother’s hands. She gave him a grateful look.
“Alexander let his brother die. He could have saved him by giving him the fruit, but he chose not to. He chose immortality instead.”
“You said your mother knows how to defeat him.”
“She does. I’m sorry I don’t know or I’d tell you right now.” She glanced at Ember and her expression changed. “I’m curious about something though.”
She inclined her head at Ember. “You’re Ember Rivera, aren’t you? You’re also the President’s guard and the People’s Guardian?”
“Yes.”
Helen’s gaze flickered to Rift and back to Ember. “Then why are you allowing that boy to hold your hand?”
Ember gasped, but Rift glared at Helen. “Ember’s my sister. I’m not letting anything happen to her.”
Helen pursed her lips, but before she could speak, Ember blurted. “I’m not your sister, Rift. We’re not even related.”
He stared at her, his expression blank. “What?”
Helen spoke gently this time. “As I said, she’s from the Rivera tribe—my tribe—a completely different tribe from you.”
“But…” Rift missed a step. He still held Ember’s hand. “I don’t understand…”
Ember said, “My mother took you under her wing when she brought me to the pod. You were really young and I wasn’t much more than a baby. She hated to see you alone, so she treated you like her son and called me your sister. It was easier that way.”
“Then … I’m not your brother.”
“You’re not.”
He dropped her hand like it burned. “Then, who’s my mother? My father?”
Ember hesitated, looking to me for answers, but she plowed on. “Your mother’s the President.”
Rift jolted away from her as if she’d struck him. “That can’t be possible. If my mother were the President, then why would I grow up in a pod? Why would she hide me from the world? Why wouldn’t she protect me? Why…”
He stu
mbled. His voice lowered as if he was speaking to himself. “Because of what I am.”
He closed his eyes. He’d never hated his own mortality. Of all my brothers, he’d been the most steadfast. Even when he thought he’d caused his sister’s death, he’d been full of regret and grief, but never loathing.
“I need some space. I’ll go on ahead.” He strode away from us, his feet swooshing in the sand as he disappeared up and over the next dune. One of the lion cubs followed him, leaping from spot to spot and I remembered Helen’s warning about being knocked over.
Ember gave me a helpless look. Helen’s expression was apologetic.
Michael nudged my shoulder with his own, inclining his head in the direction Rift had gone. “He hasn’t had to deal with his mortality like you have. You’ve had a lot more time to understand the impact on the people closest to you. Your family’s choices.”
He was right. My brother had given his life trying to save mine. My parents slept beneath a Starsgardian tower. They’d chosen their fates because of my mortality. I hadn’t understood their reasons until it was too late. I’d never had the chance to talk to them while they were alive and now I never would. But Rift still did. He needed to know his mother’s reasons before his feelings of abandonment turned to bitterness and hate.
I kept an eye on the lions as I hurried forward, moving as quickly as I could in the direction he’d disappeared. I found him all the way down the next slope, his feet planted in the sand, paused, his head tipped back. Without the firelight, the night sky was revealed in all its intensity, starlight sparkling above us in hues of dark blue.
“Rift?”
“I don’t know who I am.”
I drew close to him, leaning into his side. “You’re my brother.”
He snorted. “I’m no more related to you than I am to her.”
“Rift.” Now my voice was stern. “You need to know why the President chose to give you up.”
He froze beside me and for a moment I was worried he’d pull away. His silhouette was carved from stone, but he gave me a single nod and I was grateful he was willing to listen.
The lion stopped leaping about and padded along beside us as I tugged Rift into a walk. I started with the songs that had been sung because of the first brother’s death—the songs that had convinced Seversandians to believe it was our fault. Then I told him about his mother’s desperation to save him and how that led to her creating the fiction of a mortality weapon. A fiction that became reality.
By the time I finished, his anger had dissolved.
“Does Ember know about the mortality weapon?”
I sucked in a breath. “Actually, not yet. If you have the chance to tell her, would you? I think it would be better coming from you.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Look…” I tried not to smile. “She didn’t have to let you hold her hand that long.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just have no idea what to think or feel right now.”
“Rift, you know who you are. You’re strong and wise and kind. You’re determined and calm. You are … shadows that want to burst into the night and run with the wind.”
He laughed. “I’m not sure about that last bit.”
“You know who you are.”
“So do you,” he answered.
I shrugged. “Girl? Weapon? Both?”
We’d slowed our pace by then and the others weren’t far behind. I took one last look at the immense sky. Even from the Starsgardian mountains, I hadn’t seen this much of it, stretching from one rim of the world to the other. The breath caught in my throat and I had to force myself to look away.
I said, “I know things might be awkward with Ember now, but she still needs you.”
He nodded. “I won’t treat her any differently. But I might think twice before I reach for her hand again.”
The others caught up to us and Ember shot forward, striding up to Rift, surprising us both. She stopped short of touching him, her chin held high, her expression incredibly stern.
“You…” she said, pointing a finger at his chest. “Just so you know. I’m not sorry that you’re not my brother.”
He tilted his head, frowning slightly. “Which means…?”
“I’m glad we’re not related.” A smile ghosted across her face. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like holding your hand and I’ll be very unhappy if we stop.”
A smile broke across Rift’s face. “Um … I think I understood that.”
“Good.”
“So…?” He held out his hand and I could tell he was holding his breath.
She took it and they walked ahead together.
I fell back to walk with Michael and his mom. I couldn’t help grinning. Helen smiled at me. “Sorry I brought that whole thing up, but it’s not good for them to have misunderstandings.”
“I’m glad they were honest with each other.”
At my words, the smile dropped from Helen’s face. “The time for secrets is over. The only way you’ll survive is through the truth. Always remember—”
She stopped, her head tilted.
For a moment, I wasn’t sure why. Then I heard it too.
It couldn’t be possible.
A shiver raced through me.
Drones weren’t allowed in Seversand.
“We’re out of time.” Helen grabbed Michael, snatching his full attention. “Everything ends unless Ava makes it to Mother. Do you hear me, Michael?”
He met her eyes. Flames dropped from the firebrand, surrounding them both. “I hear you, Mom. And … I love you.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, a sob burst from her, but she swallowed it down and grabbed my arm, pulling me forward across the sand before I could resist.
“But … Michael!” To my horror, he remained behind us. Ahead, Rift and Ember had stopped, their faces upturned.
“To the lions!” Helen shouted. She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. The lions responded by racing toward her. “You have to ride them!”
Panic shot through me. Riding a gentle snow leopard was one thing. Riding a lion was definitely another.
A deadly grin shot across Rift’s face, even as terror filled Ember’s. He tugged her into a run, lining her up with one of the lions running past, sprinting beside it. Then he swung her up onto its back. He waited only long enough to see that she had a good hold on the straps crisscrossing its body before he raced after the next one.
Helen Bradley drew me to the nearest lion. “Jump, Ava!”
I held my breath and ran for my life, pretending I was still on the mountains, pretending I was still strong and that a fall wouldn’t hurt me. By instinct alone, my feet left the ground and I found myself on the lion’s back. It definitely wasn’t the most graceful maneuver, but I’d made it safely. Righting myself, the creature seemed to sense when I was secure enough to plow ahead, at which point it leaped forward, racing across the dunes.
Helen was close behind me, but Michael…
I twisted, desperately trying to see what was happening behind us. Black drones zoomed up and across the top of the dunes. Their tentacles lashed out, whipping and snapping. Michael leaped at the nearest one, pulling it down. But instead of trying to smash it, he swung it to the side, flinging it into the ones nearby. Several crashed to the ground.
He had no weapons to fight the drones other than his body.
His mom had told him that everything would be lost if I didn’t make it to see her mother. His tactics were only to delay. He was trying to give me time to get away.
But that meant he’d be captured.
“Michael!” I screamed, tugging on the lion, trying to get it to turn around. I had to get back to him, fight with him, the way we always did. Side by side. Him and me against the world. The way we were meant to fight. Never alone like he was now.
“Michael! No!” I choked as Helen gave another shrill whistle and my lion increased its speed instead of slowing down. It surged forward faster
than I’d thought possible, so fast that I drew parallel with Rift and Ember.
The drones’ buzzing told me they were close behind. Some of them were getting past Michael. They were gaining on the lions…
Helen shouted. “Rift!”
My brother met my eyes across the distance. His silhouette blurred as if the shadows I knew were part of him were trying to burst out of him even without nectar.
“Run, Ava. Find a way to stop Alexander.”
My eyes widened. “No…”
He threw a look at Ember—a brief smile—before his jaw clenched. In the next moment, he turned his lion back toward the drones. The beast veered in a wide circle and then sped back toward the oncoming drones.
They were both trying to keep me free.
I screamed my frustration. I couldn’t leave them behind. I wouldn’t. I gripped the handholds on the lion’s straps and wrenched them hard to turn my lion around, but Helen whistled again and it stayed forward.
“Stop doing that!” I screamed at her, but her face was hard as granite.
“I have to go back. I have to fight!” Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, buffeted by the wind around us. The sky was lighter than before. The sun was only an hour from rising.
Behind us, Rift leaped off his lion’s back into the air, taking down the closest drone. The lion itself followed him upward and suddenly all the remaining lions were turning to fight, batting at the drones, stretching their golden bodies into the air, leaping and pulling the drones down like it was a game. The beasts ripped into the machines with their claws and teeth, gnashing them against the sand.
My heart leaped with hope. Maybe the lions could destroy the other drones. But whoever was controlling the drones seemed to realize that too. The machines stopped trying to get past Michael, stopped trying to get to me, and targeted him instead.
One zoomed in low, shooting its tethers around his legs and pulling tight. He fell to the side, struggling, but another drone took the chance to wrap its tethers around his chest, pinning his arms. I knew how strong the tethers were.
No … Michael…
The drones picked him up and flew off with him.
Just like that. Faster than I could scream. He was gone.