by Rebecca Rode
Ember lay on her bed, staring up at the high ceiling. Her stomach was doing a strange dance with that awful alcohol burning in it. The drink had begun to take effect, giving her a faint buzz along the edges of her mind, making it hard to focus.
Ember’s choices were limited. If she somehow escaped and made it to Earth before the Empire did, she wasn’t likely to survive the Empire’s attack. But if she stayed, Kane would make her relive that public execution film sequence all over again. Probably on an even more massive scale. She’d be killing the very people trying to keep her father safe.
She thought about that man, the one she had killed today. Or had she? His light had still been there, and that movement in his hand . . . Could it be that she’d found a way to knock a person unconscious without killing them? If only she could access the ship’s records to find out what happened to the shuttle after Kane’s little demonstration.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Lock door,” Ember commanded.
“I heard that,” Mar called through the metal. “I know you’re upset, but can I come in? I just need to ask you something.”
Fine. “Open.”
The door slid open. Mar entered silently and plopped herself onto the floor across from Ember’s bed.
This was where people usually did one of two things—judge Ember or try to use her. If that was why Mar had come, she’d order her out immediately. “Well?” Ember said after a moment of silence.
Mar ignored Ember’s impatience. “It wasn’t like that video, was it?”
Ember turned her head to examine her friend. Mar’s eyes were serious, any hint of her earlier smile gone. Her question seemed sincere. “No. It wasn’t like that at all.”
“I thought so. He forced you, didn’t he?”
She wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t completely true. He’d given her two lives and asked her to choose. Ember wasn’t a god. It wasn’t her right to save one life over another, just like it shouldn’t have been her right to take lives. And yet here she was. Despite all she’d done, all her struggles, she was exactly where the stars predicted she would be, making exactly the wrong choices.
Stars, take it from me, she pleaded. I don’t want it. I never wanted this.
“I heard you killed your attacker in phase three,” Mar said. “Was that when you figured out that you could do . . . whatever it is you do?”
No. She’d discovered it at age sixteen, when she accidentally killed her own mother.
She could see herself kneeling over her mother’s body and weeping as her father came in. She had no idea what she’d done. Dai could have explained it to her then. Why hadn’t he? Was that the moment he knew exactly what his daughter was, or were the signs apparent much earlier?
“Stefan said he could see images in the light,” Ember whispered. “But he doesn’t actually touch the light. Is that how it is for you?”
Mar nodded. “Are you saying you can? Touch it, I mean.”
Ember sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Yes. I just reach out, and it feels real to me. As real as anything I’ve touched with my fingers.” Maybe that was the key. Gripping the light and pulling removed the very soul from a person’s body. Delivering a blow to that man had felt very different.
“Holy galaxy,” Mar breathed. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“I answered your questions. Now it’s your turn to answer mine.” Ember rested her chin on her knees. “Why does the Empire hate the Union so much?”
Mar stared at her incredulously. “That’s not a question you ask on an Empire carrier, especially with a high commander on board. All you need to know is they’re the enemy.”
“But what do you know about them? And I don’t mean what the Empire force-feeds everyone. I mean facts. Who started the Union? What are they trying to accomplish?”
Mar sighed. “You aren’t going to shut up about this, are you?”
“Nope.”
“This is all I can tell you,” Mar said in a hushed whisper. “The Union markets themselves as these honorable planet defenders, but that’s not true. They’re the ones attacking Empire planets, Ember. The Union leader is the emperor’s daughter. She displeased the emperor one day, so he banished her. Now she’s trying to take his throne for herself and using Union forces to do it.”
“The Daughter,” Ember muttered.
“Is that what they call her? Funny. You’d think they’d be a bit more original.” Mar shrugged. “I don’t have anything against them, personally. They’re just doing what their crazy leader tells them to do. Same thing we’re doing here.”
“If you could end it,” Ember said thoughtfully, “as in end the entire war, would you? If it meant taking lives?”
“That would require wiping out one side or the other. Since they’re both fighting for the same position, I don’t think that would change our situation much.” Mar pursed her lips. “Do you have a plan?”
“I think I might.” She turned toward the window again. They had picked up speed now. The stars barely moved as she watched, but the constellations changed every few hours. “But I’m going to need your help.”
24
Three-and-a-half days. That was all the time Ember had to plan the end of a war.
Everything was different now. She couldn’t walk anywhere without being recognized. People whispered when she passed them in the halls. They gave her a wide berth in any room. Even her instructors stopped calling on her, apparently choosing to ignore her rather than antagonize the creepy killer gypsy. In one ten-minute block of time, Commander Kane had separated her from everyone else. It wasn’t hard to see herself the way they saw her—cold, heartless. An assassin.
She would have given anything to return to Eris’s racial jabs at her people. It was far better than this.
Her classes and training sessions with Talon were put on hold for now. Her guard disappeared, leaving her to roam the ship alone. For a while it seemed as if Kane had forgotten all about her. Or maybe he knew she lived in a cage of her own making. The entire ship was her guard. They all knew where she was at any given time.
The atmosphere was unusually subdued on the last evening of their journey. Ember wolfed down her dinner and exited quickly, intending to spend the night in her quarters as usual. Mar was supposed to meet her there soon, hopefully with some new information she’d gleaned from her shift today. Earth was hours away now, and Ember still didn’t know what to do.
“Ember,” Stefan called out. He’d followed her out of the cafeteria.
“I don’t have time to talk right now,” she said with a forced smile. I have to figure out how to save your life.
He ignored her brush-off. “So you’re a flare. That explains a lot.”
A new pin decorated his collar today. He’d graduated from his training, whatever it was.
“Congratulations,” she muttered. “Where’s your assignment?”
“They want me to head the new ‘Battle Anticipation Department.’ Fancy way of saying they opened up a new division for the graduated flickers. Apparently it’s hard to find good leadership there. Everyone wants to be the star, but nobody wants to do the work.”
“I bet your family is very proud.” She tried to imagine Stefan heading a group, calling out orders that meant the death of hundreds. It didn’t seem to fit him.
Stefan’s face darkened. “Actually, I’m not on speaking terms with my parents just now.”
“Oh?”
“My grandmother died in prison last night. Mom called to tell me today. She said her mother deserved it after hiding from the Empire so long.”
“Oh, Stefan.” Ember nearly reached for him before remembering herself. She stilled her hands at her sides. “I’m so sorry.”
He examined her for a long moment. “You are, aren’t you?”
“I know how it is to lose someone.”
He nodded. “The others pretend, but they don’t understand. My grandmother practically raised me. She’s
the only one who asked me what my goals were instead of telling me, you know?” He fingered the pin on his collar. “She was disappointed that I was fine with the life of a flicker. She wanted more for me.”
“Ten hours to battle stations,” an automated voice said over the speaker. “Ten hours.”
So soon. Ember rubbed at the ache settling in her forehead. She’d looked forward to getting home for so long. Yet every minute that passed, she felt something heavy and sharp sitting in her stomach. She had to stop the Empire’s attack somehow. But how could one person take down an entire fleet?
“You’re upset,” Stefan said. “Let me walk you to your quarters, if that’s where you’re going.”
Ember nodded, not daring to speak right now. They started slowly down the corridor, side by side.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m still not sure what to think, Ember. I’ve seen so many sides of you. That first day at the market when you were in your element, you chewing me out when you woke up on the shuttle, watching you see the station with fresh eyes—it reminded me of when I first arrived as a kid, when everything was new and exciting.”
She remembered too. It hadn’t been that long ago, yet everything was different now.
“Then you progressed so quickly, and the big bombshell with you being a flare. I didn’t know who you were anymore. I told myself you’d changed. But it wasn’t you who changed, was it?”
He cut off as someone walked by. When he finally continued, his voice was barely audible.
“I always dreamed of becoming a special assistant to High Commander Kane. Pretty much all his assistants become somebody eventually. I longed for the realm to know my name. And then you came along and accidentally became everything I wanted to be.” He chuckled bitterly.
“Stefan—”
“No, let me finish, because I know what you’re going to say. According to the Empire, my grandmother was a terrible person for hiding her gift when she could have used it to serve them. That one thing alone turned her own daughter against her. Everything else, the other 99.9% of her personality, didn’t matter because my mom chose to see her through the Empire’s lens. Because of that, my parents didn’t even question the fact that Grandma was perfectly healthy and should have lived another decade.”
“You think they killed her in prison.”
He nodded. “I knew it immediately. So when I ended Mom’s call, I took a step back from the Empire’s lens and took a good look at my life.”
“And what did you see?”
“You, mostly.” Stefan shot her a teasing smile, which faded quickly. “No, really. My grandmother should have had the right to choose how she wanted to use her gift. I think if they’d forced her into training, she would have acted much like you.”
Ember felt her cheeks warm. “Stefan, I know you mean well. But I’m not the girl your grandmother saw.”
Stefan stopped and turned to face her. “Forget about the vision. Forget about what Commander Kane and the other flickers and the emperor and everyone else wants. When I step away from the Empire’s lens, I see a strong, independent woman who feels deeply for people and will fight to the last breath for those she loves. I see a woman who is fierce and mysterious and holds powers I can’t even begin to understand.” He took her hands in his, warm and strong. “I see a woman who will raise hellfire when she finally decides what she’s doing next. And all I know is I want to be a part of it.”
The very closeness of Stefan made her breathless. Was he really saying these words? She didn’t dare hope.
Three more corners and she’d reach her quarters. Part of her wanted to slow down so she could maximize her time with Stefan. Another part was screaming to get away, to escape before she became even more entangled than she already was. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“My point is this, Ember. I don’t know what your future is. I haven’t read it, and I don’t know if my grandmother did either. But it doesn’t matter what the stars say. I read this quote from an Earthen writer once that said, ‘The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.’”
The person you decide to be. Not the person she was told to be or saw herself being in a vision. His words reminded Ember of something her mother had said the night after Ember refused Babik’s proposal, just hours before her mother’s death.
Mother sat at the table across from Ember, frowning. She held a cup of green coffee in one hand. She always drank it when her illness got really bad, whether in the morning or at bedtime. Tonight was particularly bad—redness tinged her eyes, and she coughed every other sentence. She gripped the hot drink like a tether holding her to the ground.
“I don’t care for Babik,” Ember had insisted. “He watches me like a bear eyeing a fish. He thinks I’m privileged just to catch his attention. When I speak, he interrupts and argues and insists he knows better.”
“He is trying to impress you.” She coughed again and took a long sip. “You could do worse than the chief’s son. At least you would have plenty of food. And Arama is a kind soul, a good mother-in-law. She would treat you well.”
“I don’t love him.”
Her mother took another thoughtful sip. “Love is a gadje notion, Ember, an excuse and an impossible dream. Here, it is duty and responsibility above all else. It will always remain so.” She shrugged. “You just need to decide who you will be.”
The memory was so sharp, so real it gripped Ember’s throat like a hand. She realized she’d stopped walking. A small, empty corridor jutted off to their right. She stepped into it and fell against a wall, breathing hard.
Forget about what Commander Kane and the other flickers and the emperor and everyone else wants.
Decide who you will be.
She was tired of being the nail driven by another force. Her father had already lived that life, and it had broken him. She would never serve the Empire that way again.
It was time to become the hammer.
“The Union is supposed to be sending a shuttle for me when the battle starts,” she said. “At least that was the plan a few days ago. But I can’t get on it until the ship is disabled. Better yet, the fleet. I just need to have the battle contained first.”
“The entire fleet? But how are you going to do that?”
“Let me worry about it. I’ll send a message when I have it all worked out.”
He laughed, his grip on her hands tightening. “Nice try, but I’m helping you.”
She hesitated. “This isn’t something you just decide, Stefan. This means leaving your family, your friends. This is forever. And if the Empire catches you, they won’t be kind.”
“Probably not, but I’m willing to risk it.”
She gave him a long look, but he seemed sincere. “How can you give up everything so quickly?”
“Ember,” he whispered. “Do you really not see it?”
“See what?”
He took a step toward her. “I give you permission to read me. Look inside, and you’ll see the truth.” His cheeks reddened in a maddeningly adorable way. “Just a peek, though.”
She plunged into his light before thinking about it. She shuffled through his memories, including the one with his grandmother, and found that he’d described it exactly as it happened. She went forward to their first meeting, saw his surprise, interest, then admiration. The warmth in her chest flared into something bright and hot, and she could barely contain the emotion she saw there. From admiration to warmth and affection, and then—something far deeper.
He loved her.
She pulled out, feeling her own cheeks flush at some of the thoughts he held about her.
He watched her expectantly, nervously. “Did you—” he began, but she didn’t give him a chance to continue. She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him downward, pressing her lips to his.
She felt his smile against her mouth, his hands pulling her closer. His lips moved against hers, insistent, impatient, strong.
Someone walking by hooted, as if they were just another couple. Two soldiers about to embark on a battle. Just two people from completely different galaxies whose futures were forever intertwined.
She finally pulled away, gasping for breath, and rested her head on his chest. His heart hammered as fast as hers, and his breathing was hard, as if he’d just run a race. His arms tightened even more around her waist, and the thin fabric against her skin felt even more scandalous than usual.
“It’s been torture keeping this to myself,” he whispered. “I’m glad you know.”
Ember glowed inside. She’d kissed a gadjo, yet she didn’t feel any different. Well, that wasn’t true. She felt remade, whole. Complete. The filthiness and betrayal she’d expected to feel were completely absent, instead replaced by a pulsing heat she’d never felt before.
Love is a gadje notion. If that were true, maybe she’d decide to switch over.
She began to close the distance between them again, eyeing his lips, but he placed a finger on hers. “As much as I’d like to continue this, I think we’d better discuss a plan. You do have one, right?”
She checked her wristband. Thirty minutes until her meeting with Mar.
“Come with me,” she said.
25
They always know,” Kane snapped at one of his assistants. “How? They’re always in formation when we arrive.”
“I don’t know, sir. I wish I did—”
“Oh, stop sniveling. Are we ready?”
“All soldiers at battle stations, sir.”
Ember stood at the window again, but not in Kane’s office. They were in a control room with a huge window and several screens positioned on the walls. Twenty other men and women sat at control panels throughout the room, all watching Kane expectantly.