Lights flicker over her head, the only indication of my anger. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cal tighten his grip on the jet controls. Like me, he’s doing his best to keep calm and reasonable. But this bitch insists on making it so difficult. Why couldn’t Jon send us a map instead?
“Cameron, you’re going to tell us how you escaped that prison.” Lady Blonos would be proud of my composure. “You’re going to tell us what it looks like, where the cells are, where the guards are, where they keep the Silvers, the newbloods, and everything else your remember, down to the last bleeding nail. Is that clear?”
She flicks one of her many braids over her shoulder. It’s the only thing she can move without straining against her many belts and straps. “What’s in it for me, then?”
“Innocence.” I heave a breath. “You keep running your mouth and you leave all those prisoners to their fate.” Jon’s words float back to me, a haunting echo of a warning. “To die, or face worse. I’m saving you from the guilt of that.” A guilt I know too well.
There’s a slow pressure at my shoulder—Shade. Leaning into me, letting me know he’s there. A brother in blood and arms, another to share in victory, and blame.
But instead of agreeing, as any rational person should, Cameron looks even angrier than before. Her face darkens, a thundercloud of emotion. “Can’t believe you’ve got the stones to say that. You, who abandoned so many after you sentenced them to the trenches.”
Cal’s had enough. He slams a fist onto the arm of his chair. It echoes bluntly. “That wasn’t her order—”
“But it was your fault. You and your stupid band of ratty red rags.” She tosses a glare at Farley, cutting off any retort she might throw. “Gambling with our families, our lives, while you ran and hid in the woods. And now you think you’re some kind of hero, flying around saving everyone you think is special, who’s worth the lightning girl’s precious time. I bet you walk right through the slums and the poor villages. I bet you don’t even see what you’ve done to us.” The blood rises with her anger, coloring her cheeks in a dark, lurid flush. I can’t do much more than stare. “Newbloods, silverbloods, redbloods, it’s all the same, all over again. Some who are special, some who are better than the rest, and the ones who still have nothing at all.”
Sickness rolls in my belly, a foreboding wave of dread. “What do you mean?”
“Division. Favoring one over the other. You’re on the hunt for people like you, to protect them, to train them, to make them fight your war. Not because they want to, but because you need them. What about those kids going to fight? You don’t care about them at all. You’d trade them all for another walking, whining spark plug.”
The lights flicker again, faster than before. I feel every revolution of the jet engines, despite their blinding speed. The sensation is maddening. “I’m trying to save people from Maven. He’s going to turn newbloods into weapons, which will end in more death, more blood—”
“You’re doing exactly what they did.” She points her bound hands at Cal. They shake with anger. I know the feeling, and try to hide the tremors of rage in my own fingers.
“Mare.” Cal’s warning falls on deaf ears, drowned out by my thundering pulse.
Cameron spits venom. She’s enjoying this. “An age ago, when the Silvers were new. When they were few, hunted by the people who thought they were too different.”
My hands grip the edge of my seat, digging into something solid. Control. Now the jet whines in my ear, a screech to split bone.
We bounce in the air, and Gareth yelps, clutching at his leg. “Cameron, stop!” Farley shouts, her hands flying to her belts. They unsnap in rapid succession. “If you don’t shut yourself up, I will!”
But Cameron only has eyes, and anger, for me. “Look where that road led,” she growls, leaning as far as her straps will allow. Before I know it, I’m on my feet, my balance unsteady as the jet sways. I can barely hear her over the metallic shrieks bouncing around my skull. Her hands are out of her bindings, unfastening her belts with striking precision. She jumps up to stand, snarling into my face. “A hundred years from now a newblood king will sit the throne you built him on the skulls of children.”
Something tears inside me. It’s the barrier between human and animal, between sense and madness. Suddenly I’ve forgotten the jet, the altitude, and everyone else relying on my weakening control. I can think only of educating this brat, of showing exactly who and what we’re trying to save. When my fist collides with her jaw, I expect to see sparks spread over her skin, dragging her down to the floor.
There’s nothing but my bruised knuckles.
She stares, just as surprised as me. All around us, the flickering lights return to normal and the jet levels out. The whine in my head abruptly cuts off, as if a blanket of silence has fallen over my senses. It hits like a punch in the gut, dropping me to one knee.
Shade has my arm in a second, clutching with brotherly concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
In the cockpit, Cal glances between me and his control panel, his head whipping back and forth. “Stabilized,” he mutters, though I’m anything but. “Mare—”
“Not me.” A cold sweat breaks across my brow, and I fight the sudden urge to be sick. My breath comes in short pants, like the air is being pressed from my lungs. Something is smothering me. “Her.”
She takes a step back, too shocked to lie. Her mouth falls open in fear. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t, I bleeding swear it.”
“You didn’t mean to, Cameron.” That might surprise her most of all. “Just calm yourself, just—just stop—” I can’t breathe, I really can’t breathe. My grip tightens on Shade, nails digging in. Panic spikes through my nerves, alone without my lightning.
He takes my full weight on his bad shoulder, ignoring the slight twinge of pain. At least Shade is smart enough to know what I’m trying to say. “You’re silencing her, Cameron. You’re shutting her abilities down, you’re shutting her down.”
“I can’t—how?” Her dark eyes are full of terror.
My vision spots, but I see Cal blunder past. Cameron flinches away from him, as any person in their right mind would, but Cal knows what to do. He’s coached the children, and me, through similar episodes of superhuman chaos.
“Let go,” he says, firm and steady. No coddling, but no anger. “Breathe, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let go of what you’re holding.”
Please let go. Please let go. My breath comes in gasps, each one shallower than the last.
“Let her go, Cameron.”
It’s as if a boulder has been placed on my chest, and is pressing me to death, squeezing out any semblance of myself.
“Let her go.”
“I’m trying!”
“Easy.”
“I’m trying.” Her voice is softer, more controlled. “I’m trying.”
Cal nods, his motions smooth as rolling waves. “That’s it. That’s it.”
Another gasp, but this time the air sears into my lungs. I can breathe again. My senses are dull, but returning. They increase with every strengthening beat of my heart.