“You think the facility that Cormac saw was LRI? I wouldn’t put it past Monsieur LaRoux, he’s arrogant enough to think he’s untouchable. Mostly because he is.” Merendsen rakes his fingers through his hair. “God, what a mess. LaRoux is dangerous, Lee. You can’t go up against him alone.”
“That’s where I’m hoping you can help,” Jubilee admits. “Given your new connection.” I can tell by the way her jaw squares there’s more coming, and it looks like Tarver Merendsen knows her as well as I do, because he waits too. It shows up in one quick, short burst: “Why in God’s name are you marrying Lilac LaRoux?” She’s chagrined a moment later, but lifts her chin, defying him anyway.
Merendsen dissolves into laughter, holding up one hand to bid her wait as he recovers enough to talk. “Oh, I knew that was coming,” he mutters. “Because I like the cushy lifestyle, Lee. You know me, I like my luxuries. Why the hell do you think I’m marrying her?”
“I honestly don’t know, sir. I keep trying to…But it’s Lilac LaRoux, for God’s sake.” She spits the name, as though it’s an argument all on its own, like he’ll see his mistake if he hears it one more time. “She’s one of them.”
Merendsen just grins. “Because I’m in love with her, Captain. Because she’s stubborn, and kind and strong and smart, and I don’t want to go a day of my life without her, not ever again.”
Jubilee crosses over to where he’s seated on the crate, dropping to a crouch in front of him like a supplicant. “Tell me I haven’t lost you to them, Tarver.”
The first time Jubilee used my first name, I was betraying everyone I care for and realizing I was falling in love with the girl who killed my family. But now, his name rolls off her tongue with ease. I clench my jaw and avert my eyes, unable to watch her gazing up at him any longer.
Merendsen lets out a soft, slow breath. “Lee, I left what precious little time I have alone with Lilac and volunteered to get myself dropped on this ball of mud—no offense, Cormac—and here I am. Remember me?”
“Sorry, sir.” But she doesn’t sound sorry. I hear grief in her voice instead. “I’ve missed you.”
“I get that a lot,” he replies easily. “Now, my girl’s exactly who we need if we’re going to do a little digging. Where’s the most private comscreen we can access?”
“My quarters.” She pushes to her feet and seems to remember me, tilting her head to beckon me along behind them. “I’ll show you.”
Her former captain simply nods, and we both follow her out the door, me trailing behind the two of them. I can hear the sound of distant gunfire as we walk—the sound of my people fighting for their lives, without me.
The girl and the green-eyed boy are racing each other, sprinting through the alleys and byways of November. The girl slows just enough that the green-eyed boy will think he’s catching up, and then she darts up a side street. He slips while trying to follow her and goes crashing to the ground.
The girl hears him cry out and runs back to his side as fast as she can. He’s skinned both his knees, and blood is dripping onto the cracked pavement below. She tries to bandage the scrapes, but they won’t stop bleeding, no matter what she does; when she looks up, the boy’s face is draining of color.
“You did this to me,” he whispers, reaching toward her face. But before he can touch her, his fingertips crumble away into dust.
“No,” cries the girl. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”
But the green-eyed boy has turned to ash, and she can’t touch him for fear he’ll shatter, and even the shape of who he was will be lost.
“Flynn—come back to me.”
MERENDSEN PRODUCES A HANDHELD DEVICE from his pocket and presses a couple of switches, moving slowly around the confines of my room to check for bugs. He never had tech like that when I knew him. It’s only once we’re certain we won’t be overheard that he gestures for me to start up my computer. I’m acutely aware of both guys watching me as I type away at the console sunk into my desk.
I know Merendsen’s monitoring my efforts to secure this end of the channel—making sure there aren’t any keytrackers or recorders running and that the military call log software gets bypassed properly—but I can’t figure out why Flynn’s so intent. Though I can’t see him standing behind me, I feel his stare like a red-hot laser, burning into the back of my neck. Flynn won’t know anything about computers. He’s probably never used one; there certainly aren’t any comscreens with hypernet connections handed out to the rebels in the swamps. But his eyes stay on me anyway.
I shift uncomfortably, fingers fumbling and forcing me to backspace before I can summon Merendsen with a jerk of my chin. He inspects the screen, then bends down over my shoulder to key in Lilac LaRoux’s address. We’ve got the lights low in the hopes anyone passing by will think I’m grabbing some much-needed rest. Merendsen straightens and I get to my feet as the call starts connecting, letting him take the chair instead. Lilac LaRoux has no reason to talk to me—best let her fiancé handle this. I drift backward, clasping my hands behind me.
“Let’s hope she’s awake,” Merendsen murmurs, voice quickening. Anticipation, I think. He’s eager to see her, his whole body angling toward the screen. I glance over at Flynn, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense.