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?