Glass Sword (35 page)

“Okay.”

“I told you once that anyone can betray anyone. I know you remember.”
Oh, do I remember.
“And I say it again. Anyone,
anything
, can betray anyone. Even your own heart.”

“Julian—”

“No one is born evil, just like no one is born alone. They
become
that way, through choice and circumstance. The latter you cannot control, but the former . . . Mare, I am very afraid for you. Things have
been done to you, things no person should suffer. You’ve seen horrible things, done horrible things, and they will change you. I’m so afraid for what you could be, if given the wrong chance.”

So am I.

I let my hand close around his. The connection is calming enough, but weak. Our bond is strained at best, and I don’t know how to fix it. “I will try, Julian,” I murmur. “I will try.”

In the back of my mind, I wonder. Will Julian tell tales of me one day? When I have become something wretched, someone like Elara, with nothing and no one to love her? Will I simply be the girl who tried?
No. I cannot think that way. I will not.
I am Mare Barrow. I am strong enough.
I’ve done things, terrible things, and I don’t deserve forgiveness for them. But I see it in Julian’s eyes all the same. And it fills me with such hope. I will not become a monster, no matter what I must do in the days ahead. I will not lose who I am, even if it kills me.

“Now, do you need me to walk you to your family’s bunk, or can you find the way?”

I can’t help but snort. “Do
you
even
know
the way?”

“It’s not polite to question your elders, lightning girl.”

“I had a teacher once who told me to question everything.”

His eyes twinkle and he puffs out his weak chest proudly. “Your teacher was a smart man.”

I notice his eyes lingering, and the light in them goes out. He stares at my exposed collarbone, at the brand there. I debate covering it up, but decide not to move. I won’t hide the
M
burned into me, not from him.

“Sara can fix that,” he murmurs. “Shall I get her?”

On shaky legs, I stand. There are many scars I want her to heal, but not this one. “No.”
Let it be a reminder to us all.

Arm in arm, we leave the empty infirmary. It echoes with our footsteps, a white room steadily fading to gray. Outside, a shade has been drawn across the world. Winter waits on our doorstep—it will knock soon. But I like the cold air. It wakes me up.

As we cross the central yard, heading for Barracks 3, I take note of the compound. A few familiar faces mix in with the various groups, some training, others transporting goods or simply milling around. I spot Ada sliding beneath a broken transport, an instruction manual in hand. Lory kneels next to her, sifting through a pile of tools. A few yards away, Darmian falls in with a troop of Guardsmen, joining them on a jog. They’re the only ones from the Notch I see, and it turns my stomach.
Cameron, Nix, Nanny, Gareth, Ketha, where are they?
I feel quite sick, but swallow the sensation. I only have the strength to mourn the person I know for sure is dead.

Julian is not permitted to enter Barracks 3. He informs me of this with a tight-lipped smile, his words dripping disdain. There’s no way to enforce the order, but he obeys it all the same. “I’m just trying to be a ‘good’ Silver,” he says dryly. “The Colonel’s already been
kind
enough to let us out of our barracks. I would hate to betray his trust.”

“I’ll come find you after.” I squeeze his shoulder. “It must be getting pretty bad in there.”

Julian only shrugs. “Sara is taking her time healing—we don’t want too many overpowered, underfed, and angry Silvers in an enclosed space. And they know what you did for them. They have no reason to make a fuss—yet.”
Yet.
A simple but effective warning. The Colonel doesn’t know how to handle so many Silver refugees, and will certainly misstep soon.

“I’ll do my best,” I sigh, and add quelling a possible riot to my growing to-do list.
Don’t cry in front of Mom, apologize to Farley, figure
out how to save five thousand children, nanny a bunch of Silvers, put my head through a wall.
Seems doable.

The barracks is as I remember, full of labyrinthine twists and turns. I get lost once or twice, but finally I find the door with the purple scarf tied to the doorknob. It’s firmly shut, and I have to knock.

Bree opens the door. His face is red from crying, and that almost does me in right then and there. “Took you long enough,” he growls, stepping back so I can enter. I flinch at his harsh tone, but don’t retaliate. Instead, I put a hand on his arm. He cringes, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. And then, louder, to the rest of the room, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Gisa and Tramy sit on mismatched chairs. Mom curls up on one of the beds, with Dad and his chair firmly planted next to her. While she turns away, hiding her face in a pillow, he looks straight at me.

“You had things to do,” Dad says. Gruff as always, but more insulting than he’s ever been. I deserve it. “We understand.”

“I should’ve been here.” I move farther into the room. How can I feel lost in such a small space? “I brought his body back.”

“We’ve seen it,” Bree snaps, taking a seat on the bunk opposite Mom. It sags under his enormous weight. “One little blast of a needle, and he’s gone.”

“I remember,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

Gisa twitches in her chair, her thin legs drawn up beneath herself. She flexes her bad hand, distracting herself. “Do you know who killed him?”

“Ptolemus Samos. A magnetron.” Back in the arena, Cal could’ve killed the wretched man. But he was merciful. And his mercy killed my brother.

“I know that name,” Tramy says, just to have something to fill the
tense air. “He was one of your executioners. Couldn’t get you, but he got Shade.” It sounds like an accusation. I have to look down, examining my shoes instead of the hurt in his eyes.

“Did you get him back at least?” Bree gets to his feet again, unable to keep still. He towers over me, trying to look intimidating. He forgets that I’m not scared of brute force anymore. “Did you?”

“I killed a lot of people.” My voice breaks, but I soldier on. “I don’t even know how many, I just know the queen was one of them.”

On the bed, Mom pulls up, finally deciding to look at me. Her eyes swim with tears. “The queen?” she whispers, breathless.

“We have her body as well,” I say, almost too eager. Talking about her corpse is easier than grieving for my brother. So I tell them about the broadcast, what we hope to do.

The horrible thing should go out tonight, during the evening news bulletins. They’re mandatory now, an addition to the Measures, forcing every person in the kingdom to eat lies and propaganda with their dinner. A youthful, eager king, another victory in the trenches, and the like, but not tomorrow. Instead, Norta will see their dead queen. And the world will hear our call to arms. Bree paces, grinning madly at the thought of civil war, and Tramy follows, as he always does. They jabber between each other, already dreaming of marching into Archeon together, and planting our red flag on the ruins of Whitefire Palace. Gisa is less enthusiastic.

“I guess you won’t be here for long,” she says, forlorn. “They’ll need you back on the mainland, recruiting again.”

“No, I won’t be recruiting, at least not for a while.”

I can’t stand the hope that sparks in them, especially Mom. I almost don’t tell them at all, but last time I left so suddenly. I won’t do that to them again. “I’m going to the Choke, and soon.”

Dad roars so loudly I expect him to fall out of his wheelchair. “You will
not
! Not while I still draw breath!” He wheezes to emphasize his point. “No child of mine will ever return to that place.
Ever.
And don’t you dare tell me I can’t stop you, because believe me, I can and I
will.
”

Once, the Choke took Dad’s leg and a lung. He gave so much to that place. And now, I guess he thinks he’s going to lose me to it too. “I’m sure you would, Dad.” I try to humor him. That usually works.

But this time he waves me off, wheeling up to me so fast his leg bumps my shin. He glares like a demon, one quivering finger pointed at my face. “Give me your word, Mare Barrow.”

“You know I can’t do that.” And I tell him why. Five thousand children, five thousand sons and daughters. Cameron was right all along. The divisions of blood are still very real, and they can’t be tolerated any longer.

“Let someone else go,” he growls, trying his best not to fall apart. I never wished to see my father cry, and now I wish I could forget the sight. “The Colonel, that prince,
someone
else can do it.” He clutches my arm like a man at sea.

“Daniel.” Mom’s voice is soft, soothing, a single white cloud in an empty sky. “Let her go.”

When I pry his hand from my wrist, I realize I’m crying too.

“We’ll go with her.”

Bree barely gets the words out before I can tell him no. Dad’s face purples, his sadness giving way to anger. “Do you want me to die of a heart attack?” he snarls, spinning to face my oldest brother.

“She’s never been to the Choke, she doesn’t know what it’s like up there,” Tramy pipes in. “We do. Spent almost a decade between us on the trench lines.”

I shake my head, putting out a hand to stop him before Dad really
does lose it. “The Colonel’s coming, he’s seen the Choke too, there’s no need—”

“Maybe from the Lakelander side.” Bree’s already at his trunk, going through his things.
Looking for what to bring.
“But the Nortan trenches are a different design. He’ll be turned around in seconds.”

It’s probably the smartest thing I’ve ever heard Bree say. He’s not known for his brain, but then again, he survived almost five years on the lines. That’s four years longer than most. It can’t be luck. I realize instead, this is bravery from both of them, more than I can possibly know. Once I thought about how much of my life my older brothers missed—but I’ve done the same. They are not as I remember. They are warriors as much as I am.

My silence is all they need to start packing. I wish I could tell them not to come. They would listen if I truly meant it. But I can’t. I need them, just like I needed Shade.

I only hope I won’t lead another brother into the grave.

After a long moment, I realize I’m shaking. So I climb into bed next to my mother, and I let her hold me for a long while. I do my best not to cry. My best is not enough.

T
he mess hall is
crowded, but not for a meal. The Colonel put out the call for a “top-priority operation” only an hour ago, and the room bursts with his handpicked men as well as volunteers. The Lakelanders are quiet, well trained, and stoic. The Guardsmen are much rowdier, though Farley is anything but. She’s been reinstated as a captain, but shows no sign of noticing. She sits in silence, absently twisting a red scarf around her hands. When I enter the mess, flanked by my brothers, the noise dies away, and every eye watches me. Except Farley. She doesn’t look up at all. Lory and Darmian actually clap as I walk across the room, making me blush. Ada joins in, and then, to my delight, Nanny stands up next to her, as does Cameron.
They made it.
I exhale a little, trying to feel relieved. But there’s still no sign of Nix, Gareth, or Ketha.
They could have chosen not to come. They must be sick of danger by now.
That’s what I tell myself as I sit down next to Farley. Bree and Tramy follow, taking the seats directly behind me, like bodyguards.

We are not the last to arrive. Harrick slips in, having just arrived from the Notch, and shoots me a curt nod. He holds the door open,
allowing Kilorn to enter. My heartbeat doubles when Cal follows, trailing at his heels, with Julian and Sara behind him. My entrance was quiet—this is the opposite. At the sight of three Silvers, many jump to their feet, mostly Lakelanders. In the din, it’s hard to hear their shouts, but the meaning is clear.
We do not want you here.

Cal and I lock eyes through the commotion, if only for a second. He turns away first, finding a seat at the back of the room. Julian and Sara stick close to his side, ignoring the jeers, while Kilorn picks his way to the front. He drags a chair with him, and plops down beside me. He gives me a casual nod, as if we’re just sitting down to lunch.

“So what’s all this about?” he says, his voice loud enough to be heard over the noise.

I stare at my friend, perplexed. The last time I saw him, he was prying me off Farley, and looked disgusted with my existence. Now he’s all but smiling. He even pulls an apple from his jacket and offers me first bite. Shaky but sure, I take the gift.

“You weren’t yourself,” he whispers in my ear. He pulls the apple away again, taking a bite. “Forget about it. But go off the rails like that again and we’ll have to settle this Stilts-style. Yeah?”

My scars twinge as I smile. “Yeah.” And lower, so only he can hear me. “Thank you.”

For a second, he stills, strangely thoughtful. Then he waves a hand, smirking. “Please, I’ve seen you way worse than that.” A comforting lie, but I let him tell it anyway “Now, what’s this top-priority business? Your idea or the Colonel’s?”

As if on cue, the Colonel enters the mess, his hands stretched wide, asking for silence. “Mine,” I murmur, as the complaints fade away.

“Quiet,” he barks, his voice like a whip crack. The Lakelanders obey at once, taking their seats in practiced motion. His glare is enough
to shut up the other dissenters. He points to the back of the room—to Cal, Julian, and Sara. “Those three are Silver, yes, but proven allies to the cause. They have my permission to be here. You will treat them as you would any ally, any brother or sister at arms.”

It silences them all. For now.

“You’re here because you’ve volunteered for an operation without knowing what it is. That’s true bravery, and I commend you all for it,” he continues, taking his place at the front of the hall. I get the sense he’s done this before. In this setting, the cropped hair and red eye give him an air of authority, as does his commanding voice. “As you know, the lowered conscription age has resulted in younger soldiers, down to the age of fifteen. At present, one such legion is on their way to the war front. Five thousand strong, all with only two months of training.” An angry murmur goes through the crowd. “We owe our gratitude to Mare Barrow and her team for giving us this information.”

I can’t help but flinch.
My team.
They belonged to Farley or even Cal, but not to me. “Miss Barrow is also the first to volunteer to stop this tragedy before it happens.”

Kilorn’s neck cracks, he turns so quickly. He widens his green eyes, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or impressed. Maybe a little bit of both.

“They’ve been nicknamed the Little Legion,” I say, forcing myself to my feet so I can address the crowd properly. They stare at me, expectant, every eye like a knife. Lady Blonos’s lessons will serve me well now. “According to our information, the children will be sent directly into the Choke, past the trench lines. The king wants them dead, to scare our people into silence, and he’ll succeed if we don’t do something. I propose a two-pronged operation, led by Colonel Farley and myself. I will infiltrate the legion outside Corvium, using soldiers
who can pass for fifteen, in order to separate the Silver officers from the children. We will then proceed directly into the Choke.” I do my best to keep my eyes on the back wall, but they keep trailing back to Cal. This time, I’m the one who has to look away.

“That’s suicide!” someone shouts.

The Colonel moves to my side, shaking his head. “My own unit will be waiting in the north, on the Lakelander trench line. I have contacts within that army, and I can buy Miss Barrow enough time to get across. Once she reaches me, we’ll retreat to Lake Eris. Two grain freighters should be enough to ferry us across, and from there, we enter the disputed lands.”

“Ludicrous.”

I don’t need to look up to know Cal is standing. He’s flushed, fists clenched, annoyed at such a foolish plan. I almost smile at the sight.

“One hundred years and no Nortan army has ever crossed the Choke.
Ever
. You think you can do it with a bunch of kids?” He turns on me, imploring. “You’d have better luck turning them back to Corvium, hiding in the woods, anything other than crossing a damned kill zone.”

The Colonel takes this all in stride. “How long since you entered the trenches, Your Highness?”

Cal doesn’t falter. “Six months ago.”

“Six months ago, the Lakelanders had nine legions on the line, to match Nortan numbers. As of today, they have two. The Choke is open, and your brother does not realize it.”

“A trap? Or a diversion, then?” Cal sputters, puzzling out what this could mean.

The Colonel nods. “The Lakelanders plan to push across Lake Tarion,
while your armies are busy defending a stretch of waste no one wants. Miss Barrow could walk across blindfolded and not get a scratch.”

“And that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Slowly, surely, I steel my heart. I hope I look brave, because I certainly don’t feel it. “Who’s coming with me?”

Kilorn is the first to stand, as I knew he would be. Many more follow—Cameron, Ada, Nanny, Darmian, even Harrick. But not Farley. She sits rooted, letting her lieutenants stand in her place. The scarf is wound too tight around her wrist, turning her hand faintly blue.

I try not to look at him. I certainly try.

At the back of the room, the exiled prince gets to his feet. He holds my gaze, as if his eyes alone could set me on fire.
A waste.
There is nothing in me left to burn.

The graves in Tuck’s cemetery are new, marked by freshly turned earth and a few woven bits of sea grass. Collected rocks stand in for headstones, each one painstakingly carved by loved ones. When we lower Shade’s plank coffin into the ground, all of us Barrows standing around the hole, I realize we are lucky. We have a body to bury, at the very least. But there are so many other graves marking nothing but earth. Their names are carved too. Nix, Ketha, and Gareth. Their bodies abandoned but not forgotten. According to Ada, they never got on the Blackrun or the cargo jet. They died in Corros, along with forty-two others by her impeccable count. But three hundred survived. Three hundred, traded for forty-five.
A good deal,
I tell myself.
An easy bargain.
The words sting, even in my head.

Farley clutches herself against the cold wind but refuses to wear a coat. The Colonel is here too, standing a respectful distance away. He’s here not for Shade but his grieving daughter, though he makes no
move to comfort her. To my surprise, Gisa takes her side, worming one arm around the captain’s waist. When Farley lets her, the shock almost knocks me over. I didn’t know the two ever met, but they’re so familiar. Somehow, beneath my grief, I manage to feel a bit of jealousy. No one tries to comfort me, not even Kilorn. Shade’s funeral is too much for him to bear and he sits on the rise above, far away enough so that no one can see him cry. His head dips every once in a while, unable to watch when Bree and Tramy begin to shovel dirt into the grave.

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.