“Stop!” I choke out, turning toward the voice. Now I fight with my own meager muscles, trying to break the strongarm’s grip the old-fashioned way. Nothing could be more fruitless. “Stop!”
“You are in no position to bargain, Mare.”
Maven is coy, keeping to the darkness, to his shadows. I watch his silhouette approach, noting the spiky crown on his head. When he steps into the starlight, I feel a brief twinge of satisfaction. His face does not match his confident drawl. There are bruise-like circles beneath his eyes, and a sheen of sweat coats his forehead. His mother’s death has taken its toll.
The hands around my throat loosen a little, allowing me to speak. But I still dangle, my toes slipping in cold grass and icy mud.
No bargain, no trade. “He’s your brother,” I say, not bothering to think. Maven doesn’t care about that at all.
“And?” He raises one dark eyebrow.
On the ground, Kilorn squirms against his restraints. They tighten in response, and he gasps, wheezing. Next to him, Cal’s eyelids flutter. He’s coming around—and then Maven will certainly kill him. I have no time, no time at all. I would give anything to keep these two alive, anything.
With one last explosion of rage, fear, and desperation, I let myself loose. I killed Elara Merandus. I should be able to kill her son and his soldiers. But the strongarm is ready for me, and squeezes. His gloves hold, protecting his skin from my lightning, doing exactly what they were made for. I gasp against his grip, trying to call to the sky above. But my vision spots, and a sluggish pulse sounds in my ears. He will choke me dead before the clouds can gather. And the others will die with me.
I will do anything to keep him alive. To keep him with me. To not be alone.
My lightning has never looked so weak or forlorn. The sparks fade slowly, like the beat of a dying heart. “I have something to trade,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Oh?” Maven takes another step. His presence makes my skin crawl. “Do tell.”
Again, my collar loosens. But the strongarm digs a thumb against the vein in my throat, an open threat.
“I’ll fight you to the last,” I say. “We all will, and we’ll die doing it. We might even take you with us, just like your mother.”
Maven’s eyelids flicker, the only indication of his pain. “You will be punished for that, mark my words.”
The thumb responds in kind, pressing further, probably leaving a spectacular bruise. But this is not the punishment Maven speaks of, not by a long shot. What he has in store for us will be much, much worse.
The bars around Cal’s wrists redden, glowing with heat. His slitted eyes reflect the starlight, watching me with bated breath. I wish I could tell him to lie still, to let me do what I have to do. To let me save him as he saved me so many times.
At his side, Kilorn stills. He knows me better than anyone, and understands my expression plainly. Slowly, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head from side to side.
“Let them go, let them live,” I whisper. The strongarm’s hands feel like chains, and I picture them crawling over every inch, winding like iron serpents.
“Mare, I don’t know if you understand the definition of the word trade,” Maven sneers, pressing further. “You must give me something.”
I won’t go back to him for anyone. I told Cal that once, after I survived the sounder device, and he realized what this was all about.
Surrender, Maven’s note said, begging me to return.
“We won’t fight. I won’t fight.” When the strongarm drops me, my walls disintegrate. I lower my head, unable to look up. It feels like bowing. This is my bargain. “Let the rest go—and I will be your prisoner. I will surrender. I will return.”
I focus on my hands in the grass. The coldness of the frost is familiar. It calls to my heart, and the hole that grows there. Maven’s hand is warm beneath my chin, burning with a sickly heat. Daring to touch me is a stark message. He does not fear the lightning girl, or at least he wants to seem that way. He forces me to look at him, and I see nothing of the boy he once was. There is only darkness.
“Mare, no! Don’t be an idiot!” I barely hear Kilorn, pleading now. The whining in my head is so loud, so painful. Not the hiss of electricity, but something else, inside me. My own nerves, screaming in protest. But at the same time, I feel a sick and twisted relief. So many sacrifices have been made for me, for my choices. It’s only fair that I take my turn, and accept the punishment fate has in store.
Maven reads me well, searching for a lie that doesn’t exist. And I do the same. Despite his posturing, he is afraid of what I’ve done, of the lightning girl’s words and the affect they have. He came here to kill me, to put me in the ground. Now he’s found a greater prize. And I’ve given it to him willingly. He is a betrayer by nature, but this is a bargain he wants to uphold. I see it in his eyes; I heard it in his notes. He wants me, and will do anything to hold my leash again.
Kilorn squirms against his restraints, but it’s no use at all. “Cal, do something!” he shouts, lashing out at the body next to him. Their bonds clang together in a hollow echo. “Don’t let her!”
I can’t look at him. I want him to remember me differently. On my feet, in control. Not like this.
“Do we have a deal?” I am reduced to a beggar, pleading with Maven to put me back in his gilded cage. “Are you a man of your word?”
Above me, Maven smiles as I quote him. His teeth gleam.
The others are shouting now, shaking in their bonds. I hear none of it. My mind has closed to all but the trade I am ready to make. I suppose Jon saw this coming.
Maven’s hand moves from my chin to my throat. His grip tightens. Softer than the strongarm, but so much more painful.
“We have a deal.”
EPILOGUE
Days pass. At least, I think they’re days. I spend most of my time in dull blindness, subject to the sounder. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. My jailors have perfected the so-called dosage, using it to keep me unconscious, but not in skull-splitting pain. Every time I come out of it, my vision spotting to show men in white robes, they turn the dial, and the device clicks again. The insect burrows in my brain, clicking, always clicking. Sometimes I feel pulled, but never enough to fully wake. Sometimes, I hear Maven’s voice. Then the white prison turns black and red, both colors too strong to stand.
This time when I come around, nothing clicks. The world is too bright, and slightly blurry, but I don’t fall back under. I truly wake up.
My chains are clear, probably plastic or even diamondglass. They bind my wrists and ankles, too tight for comfort, but loose enough to allow circulation. The manacles are the worst part, sharp and grating against the sensitive flesh. Worn wounds, shallow from stinging, ooze blood. The red seems to bite in contrast to my pale shift dress, and no one bothers to wipe it away. Now that Maven can’t hide what I am, he must show it for all the world, for whatever twisting scheme he has now. The chains clink, and I realize I’m in an armored transport, a moving one. This must be used for prisoners, because there are no windows, and the walls have rings. My chains are hooked to one, swaying slightly.
Across from me are the two men in white, both bald as eggs. They bear a striking resemblance to Instructor Arven. His brothers or cousins, most likely. That explains the stifling sensation and my difficulty breathing. These men are silencing my ability, holding me hostage in my own skin. Strange, that they need chains too. Without my lightning, I’m just a seventeen-year-old girl, almost eighteen now. I can’t help but smile. I’ll spend my birthday a prisoner of my own volition. This time last year, I thought I’d be marching to the war front. Now I’m heading who knows where, locked into a rolling transport with two men who would very much like to kill me. Not much of an upgrade.