by Maura Milan
She could kill him. Escape back to the Fringe. Find her crew and remind the entire universe who was the Blood Wolf of the Skies.
But instead, she leaned in, so close she could see his beryl-blue eyes, cold as the mountain she’d found him on. She held his gaze until his eyelashes fluttered.
“Chocofluff,” she said. “As much as I want.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“You asked me to choose.”
The right corner of his lips turned up, but then lowered back down into his usual glower. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“Nope.” She clasped her fingers behind her head. “If there’s one thing you Bugs do right, it’s chocofluff.”
“Are you sure about this, Cōcha?” He angled his head at her, giving her a moment to think it over. But she was already certain. After all, every journey had a new horizon.
She smiled at him. “Yes. Let’s go home.”
It had only been a week since the attack, and everything was still in disarray. With Aphelion still running on backup gennies, the High Officer’s quarters were dark and gloomy. And also very easy to break into. Ia had decided to slip in when she saw the general’s cruiser land on the flight deck. The last time she’d seen the cruiser, its bright-white hull had retreated up into the sky, the clouds edging in on it like a closing door. She’d been so angry, so eager to escape.
How much had changed.
She walked throughout the High Officer’s quarters, dragging a hand across the surface of the general’s desk. Earlier, she had seen him walking into the headmaster’s office to talk to Knives. She knew it would take a while because the general loved to talk.
And now she waited, hiding in the shadows, finding a position by the storage cabinets that was in perfect view of the entrance.
She wanted to see the look on his face as it all settled in.
A beep came from the door, and it slid open, letting in the flickering light from the hallway. The general’s figure filled the doorway, and as he moved inside, she heard the medals jingling on his chest. Each step was slow and methodical, and his calculating gaze swept across the room. He stiffened at the sight of his desk, at the papers ruffled by her touch.
Finally, his eyes fixed in her direction, his voice calm.
“I know it’s you,” he said.
Ia stalked out from the shadows, her body lithe and predatory.
“Did you come to Aphelion to say hello?” she asked, her voice slippery. She studied the general. The squareness of his jaw was much like his son’s, and his eyes were the same shade of blue. She hadn’t noticed the similarities until now.
“What do you want, Cōcha? Congratulations for a job well done? You’re lucky that we’re not throwing you in prison for leaking information about Aphelion.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “You have something that belongs to me. I know you have it on you. You’re the type who loves trophies.”
His eyes narrowed, shifting as he studied her face. “I didn’t think you’d come for it so soon.”
The general strode toward a metal cylinder resting on a gray side table. The container was big enough to fit a skull. He rested his fingerprint on the top of the cylinder, allowing the scanner to confirm his identity. The metal sheath lowered, revealing a dark black helm, scuffed from wear. Etched in its center was Ia Cōcha’s feather, bright red like freshly spilled blood.
General Adams grabbed the helmet by the lip of its visor and kept it well beyond her reach.
“If I give this to you,” he said, “what will you do for me?”
Her lips quirked up in a smirk. And then she lunged at him, her palms shoving him back. The general stumbled backward, his hand already reaching confidently into his coat pocket. He whipped something out, dangerous silver flashing in his hand.
It was the heart tracker, the original.
He flipped it open and pressed his thumb on the sensor in the middle, his eyes already glimmering with a look of victory.
Nothing happened.
Except for the smile that rippled across Ia’s face. “Knives didn’t tell you?”
The general’s eyes widened in realization. “The damn fool,” he muttered.
“You thought you could keep me leashed forever,” Ia growled. She quick-stepped toward him, swinging a kick at the side of his knee. He crashed to the ground and hit his head. She moved toward his crumpled body.
“I could kill you right now,” she growled at him, anger ripping through every cell of her body, but then she eased off. She reached into her pocket and tossed him a handkerchief.
He eyed her as he wiped the blood dripping from his temple.
“Lucky for you, general, it appears we now have the same goal,” she said.
He coughed. “What are you proposing?”
“A truce,” she said, learning forward as if she were going to pounce. “But only if you allow me one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“My brother,” she said.
“Don’t tell me you want a plea bargain.” His voice rose. “We’re not letting him off.”
“I know.” An ember of fury burned deep inside of her. “And I’m going to be the one who takes him down.”
The general grunted in approval and tossed her the helmet. She snatched it out of the air and stared at the feather on the visor, blooming red in the night. It was a symbol of the Blood Wolf, lost but now returned.
Standing tall like a statue, she slid the helmet on.
She was Sovereign of Dead Space, the Huntress of the Wastelands, the Blood Wolf of the Skies.
She was Ia Cōcha.
And now she was fighting for Olympus.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my wonderful writer friends, especially Liz Arrendondo, for being there since the very beginning. Thank you for reading each chapter-like thing I sent you and giving me the most thoughtful and game-changing notes. I am constantly in awe of your talent when it comes to storytelling. Thank you to Anna Rabinovitch, my ultimate writing buddy, for all the times we shared green tea lattes, griped over grammar questions, and talked about K-pop in between writing sprints. Writing this book would have been so lonely without you.
An immense amount of gratitude goes out to Logan Garrison Savits, who plucked this manuscript out of her slush pile and truly believed in Ia and her adventures. You will always be my champion. To Seth Fishman and Jack Gernert, and the rest of the team at the Gernert Company for all of your never-ending support.
To my amazing editor, Eliza Swift, for being my ultimate story navigator. Your guidance has gotten me through some surprise plot holes and logic obstacles, and I don’t know where this story would have ended up without you—probably in another galaxy where nothing makes sense at all. Because of your enthusiasm and collaborative spirit, the whole editing process was a great adventure filled with only the best discoveries. A million thanks and even more hugs to everyone at Albert Whitman, for standing behind this story and welcoming me into the AW family.
Thank you to Gabe Sachs for being an awesome mentor and for imparting a generous amount of career advice throughout the years. I’ve learned so much about writing and “the biz” from you.
To Ryan MacInnes, my BFF, for reading all of my projects and encouraging me to keep going with my writing. If I’m stuck (storywise and lifewise), I know that I can always talk things through with you. Thank you for being there for me.
To Jessika Van, for being on the cover. You are an inspiration. You have always been my Ia Cōcha, since the very first chapter.
To Isaac Hagy. Ignite the Stars started out with a girl whose name no one would ever forget. Ia Cōcha would not have her name without you.
To Romina Garber, Kass Morgan, Robyn Schneider, Robin Wasserman, Marie Lu—thank you so much for all of your kind words and incredible advice at crucial times.
To Charles Haine, the Hochheim family, Joie and Max Botkin,
Anna Ellison, Eric Greenburg, and the rest of the LA crew for being with me on this journey, and for always overlooking my mysterious disappearances while I’m on deadline.
Shout-out to the Electric Eighteens, the LA Electrics, and the Book Therapy group—we’re doing it!
To my mom for not just believing in me but also being proud of me, even though I’m not a doctor, or a lawyer, or have a career with built-in health insurance. Thank you for giving me the chance to be brave in my decisions.
And to my weird dog, Thor, for just being you.
Last but certainly not least, to all the readers who’ve found this book. My wish for all of you is to feel as strong and bold as the Blood Wolf of the Skies.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MAURA MILAN grew up in Chicago but now resides in Los Angeles, where she works in video production. She can be found in cafes drinking green tea lattes and writing and writing and writing. In her free time, Maura enjoys watching Korean dramas, collecting K-pop gifs, and hanging out with her dog, Thor, who she believes should become a professional comedian. She received a BA from USC’s School of Cinematic Arts and has placed a number of short films in festivals all over the United States. Ignite the Stars is her debut novel. Visit Maura online at www.mauramilan.com and on Twitter at @mauramilan and on Instagram at @mauraisdoomed.