We don’t say anything. It’s too hard. The whistling air goes straight through me, and I wish for warmth. I wish for comfortable heat. But Cal is not here. My brother is dead, and Cal cannot find it in his stubborn heart to watch us bury him.
Mom shovels the last bit of dirt, her eyes dry. She has no more tears left to give. We have that in common at least.
Shade Barrow, his headstone reads. The letters look clawed, written by some feral beast instead of my parents. It feels wrong to bury him here. He should be at home, by the river, in the woods he loved so well. Not here, on a barren island, surrounded by dunes and concrete, with nothing but empty sky to keep him company. This was not a fate he deserved. Jon knew this would happen. Jon let it happen. A darker thought takes hold. Perhaps this is another trade, another bargain. Perhaps this was the best fate he would ever face. My smartest, most caring sibling, who would always come to save me, who always knew what to say. How could this be his end? How is this fair?
I know better than most that nothing in this world is fair.
My vision blurs. I stare at the packed earth for who knows how long, until it’s just me and Farley left in the cemetery. When I look up, she’s staring at me, a storm raging between anger and sorrow. The wind ruffles her hair. It’s grown longer over the past few months, nearly reaching her chin. She shoves it away so violently I fear she might tear her scalp.
“I’m not going with you.” She forces out the words.
I can only nod. “You’ve done enough for us, more than enough. I understand.”
At that she scoffs. “You don’t. I couldn’t care less about protecting myself, not now.” Her eyes trail back to the grave. A single tear escapes, but she doesn’t notice. “The answer to my question,” she murmurs, not thinking about me anymore. Then she shakes her head and steps closer. “It wasn’t much of a question anyway. I knew, deep down. I think Shade did too. He is—was—very perceptive. Not like you.”
“I’m sorry for everyone you’ve lost,” I say, blunter than I wish to be. “I’m sorry—”
She only waves a hand, dismissing the apology. She doesn’t even care to ask how I know. “Shade, my mother, my sister. And my father. He might be alive, but I lost him too.”
I remember the worry on the Colonel’s face, the brief glint of concern when we returned to Tuck. He was afraid for his daughter. “I wouldn’t be so sure. No real father could ever be truly lost to the child he loves.”
The wind blows a curtain of hair across her face, almost hiding the look of shock flashing in her eyes. Shock—and hope. One hand splays across her stomach, strangely gentle. The other pats my shoulder. “I hope you make it out of this alive, lightning girl. You’re not entirely awful.”
It might be the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.
Then she turns, never to look back. When I leave a few minutes later, neither do I.
There’s no time to mourn Shade or the others properly. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I must board the Blackrun, forget my heart, and prepare to fight. It was Cal’s idea to wait until evening, to leave the island while our hijacked broadcast crosses the nation. By the time Maven’s dogs come hunting for us, we’ll already be in the air and on our way to the hidden airfield outside Corvium. The Colonel will continue north, using the cover of night to cross the lakes and circle around. By morning, if the plan holds, we’ll both be in charge of our own legions, one on each side of the border. And then we march.
The last time I left my parents, there was no warning. Somehow, that was easier than this. Saying good-bye to them is so hard I almost run to the Blackrun and its familiar safety. But I force myself to hug them both, to give them whatever small comfort I can, even if it might be a lie.
“I’ll keep them safe,” I whisper, tucking my head against Mom’s shoulder. Her fingers run through my hair, braiding it quickly. The gray ends have spread, almost reaching to my shoulders. “Bree and Tramy.”
“And you,” she whispers back. “Protect yourself too, Mare. Please.”
I nod against her, not wanting to move.
Dad’s hand finds my wrist, giving it a gentle tug. Despite his outburst earlier, he’s the one to remind me I must go. His eyes linger over my shoulder, at the Blackrun behind us. The others have already boarded, leaving only the Barrows on the runway. I suppose they want to give me some semblance of privacy, though I have no use for such a thing. I’ve spent the last few months living in a hole, and before that, a palace crawling with cameras and guards. I don’t care about spectators.
“For you,” Gisa blurts, holding out her good hand. She dangles a scrap of black silk. It feels cool and slick in my hand, like woven oil. “From before.”
Red and gold flowers decorate the fabric, embroidered with the skill of a master. “I remember,” I murmur, running a finger over the impossible perfection. She sewed this so long ago, the night before an officer broke her hand. It is unfinished, just like her old fate. Just like Shade. Shaking, I tie it around my wrist. “Thank you, Gisa.”
I reach into my pocket. “And I have something for you, my girl.”
A trinket, cheaply made. The single earring matches the winter ocean around us.
Her breath catches as she takes it. Tears quickly follow, but I can’t watch them. I turn away from them all and board the Blackrun. The ramp closes behind me, and by the time my heart stops racing, we’re in the sky, soaring high above the sea.
My soldiers are few compared to the many following the Colonel into the Lakelands. After all, I could only take people who looked young enough to play the part of the Little Legion, and preferably those who had served, who knew how to act like soldiers. Eighteen Guardsmen fit the bill, and have joined us in the sky. Kilorn sits with them, doing his best to acclimatize them to our close-knit group. Ada isn’t with us, and neither are Darmian and Harrick. Unable to pass for teenagers, they went with the Colonel, to aid our cause however they can. Nanny is not so restricted, despite her advanced age. Her appearance flickers, fluttering between different iterations of young faces. Of course Cameron has joined us—this was truly her idea in the first place, and she all but bounces with adrenaline. She’s thinking of her brother, the one she lost to the legion. I find myself envying her. She still has a chance to save him.
Cal and my brothers will be the hardest to disguise. Bree has a young face, but he’s larger than any fifteen-year-old should be. Tramy is too tall, Cal too recognizable. But their value lies in not their appearance or even their strength but their knowledge of the trench lines. Without them, we’ll have no one to navigate such a maze, and enter the nightmare wasteland of the Choke. I’ve only seen the Choke in photographs, news bulletins, and my dreams. After my ability was discovered, I thought I’d never have to go there. I thought I escaped that fate. How wrong I am.
“Three hours to Corvium,” Cal barks, not looking up from his instruments. The seat next to him is conspicuously empty, reserved for me. But I won’t join him, not after he abandoned me to face Shade’s funeral alone.
“Rise, Red as the dawn.” The Guardsmen speak in unison, banging the butts of their guns on the floor. It takes us all by surprise, though Cal does his best not to react. Still, I see distaste pull at the corner of his mouth. I’m not part of your revolution, he said once. Well, you sure look like it, Your Highness.