Glass Sword

“—and by design.”

This is very annoying.

“My apologies,” Rash adds, noting my discomfort. “Our mutation links our brains. It can be quite—”

“Unsettling,” I finish for him, drawing a smile from them both. But the Colonel continues to scowl, his red eye gleaming. “So you’re newbloods too? Like me?”

A double nod. “In Montfort, we are called the Ardents, but it differs from nation to nation. No one can agree on what to call the Red-and-Silver ones,” Tahir says. “There are many of us, all over this world. Some in the open, as in the Republic, or hidden, as it is in your country.” He turns his gaze on the Colonel, speaking with two meanings. “But our bonds run deeper than the borders of nations. We protect our own, for no one else will. Montfort has been hiding for twenty years, building our republic from the ashes of brutal oppression. I believe you understand that.” I do indeed. I don’t even care that I’m grinning, despite the pain it causes. “But we are not hiding now. We have an army and a fleet of our own, and they will not be idle any longer. Not while kingdoms like Norta, the Lakelands, and all the rest still stand. Not while Reds die, and Ardents face even worse fates.”

Ah. So the Colonel accepts us not out of goodness or even necessity, but fear. Another player has joined the game, one he does not understand. They share an enemy at least, that much is clear. Silvers. People like Maven. We share an enemy too. But a chill goes through me, one I cannot ignore. Cal is Silver, Julian is Silver. What do they think of them? Like the Colonel, I must sit back and see what these people truly want.

“Premier Davidson, the leader of the Republic, sent us as ambassadors, to extend a hand of friendship to the Scarlet Guard,” Rash says, his own hand twitching on his thigh. “Colonel Farley willingly accepted this alliance two weeks ago, as have his superiors, the Red Generals of Command.”

Command. Farley’s cryptic words seem so close now. She never explained what she meant, but now I begin to see a little more of the Guard. I have never heard of the Red Generals, but I keep my face still. They don’t know how much—or how little—I am told. Judging by the way the twins are talking, they think me a leader too, with control over the Scarlet Guard. I barely have control over myself.

“We’ve allied with similar groups and subsects in nations across the continent, forming a complex network like spokes of a wheel. The Republic is the hub.” Rash’s eyes bore into mine. “We offer safe passage, to any of the Ardents here, to a country that will not only protect you but offer you freedom. They need not fight; they need only live, and live free. That is our offer.”

My heart beats wildly. You need only live. How many times have I wished for such a thing? Too many to count. Even back in the Stilts, when I thought I was painfully normal, when I was nothing. I only wanted to live. The Stilts taught me the value, and the rarity, of an ordinary life. But it also taught me something else, a more valuable lesson. Everything has its price.

“And what do you ask in return?” I murmur, not wanting to hear his answer.

Rash and Tahir exchange loaded glances, their eyes narrowing in silent communication. I don’t doubt the brothers can speak to each other without words, whispering like Elara once did. “Premier Davidson requests that you escort them,” they say together.

A “request.” There is no such thing.

“You are a firebrand in your own right, and will be of great help to the coming war.” They need not fight. I should’ve known that wouldn’t apply to me. “You will have your own unit, your own handpicked Ardents at your side—”

A newblood king will sit the throne you built him.

Cameron said that to me a few days ago, when I forced her to join us. Now I know exactly how she felt, and how horribly true her words could be.

“But only Ardents?” I reply, moving steadily to my feet. “Only newbloods? Tell me, what is it truly like in your Republic? Have you simply traded Silver masters for new ones?”

The brothers stay seated, watching me with keen eyes. “You misunderstand,” says Tahir. He taps the scar below his left eye. “We are like you, Mare Barrow. We have suffered for what we are, and simply wish for no one else to meet this fate. We offer sanctuary for our kind. You especially.”

Liars, both of them. They offer nothing but another stage for me to stand on and perform.

“I’m fine where I am.” I look to the Colonel, focusing on his good eye. He’s not scowling anymore. “I won’t run away, not now. There are things that must be handled here. Red problems that you need not bother with. You may take any newblood who wants to go with you, but not me. And if you try to make me do anything against my will, I’ll fry you both. I don’t care what color your blood is or how free you claim to be. Tell your leader I can’t be bought with promises.”

“And what of action?” Rash offers, raising one manicured eyebrow. “Would that sway you to the leader’s side?”

I’ve walked this road before. I’ve had my fill of kings, no matter what they’re called. But spitting on the twins will get me nowhere, so I shrug instead. “Show me action and we’ll see.” Chuckling, I turn to go. “Bring me Maven Calore’s head and your leader can use me as a footstool.”

Tahir’s response chills my blood. “You killed the she-wolf. It should be nothing at all to kill the pup.”

I exit the control room at a brisk march.

“Strange, Miss Barrow.”

“What?” I growl, snarling to face the Colonel. He can’t even let me walk out of this barracks in peace. His open expression takes me aback, displaying something like understanding. He is the last person I expect to understand.

“You came here with so many more followers, but you lost the ones you left with.” He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the cold, damp wall of the passage. “The village boy, your prince, and my daughter all seem to be avoiding you. And of course, your brother—” One quick step forward stops him short, frightening him into silence. “My condolences,” he murmurs after a long moment. “It’s never easy to lose a family member.”

I remember the photograph in his quarters. He had another daughter, and a wife, two people who aren’t here now. “We all need some time,” I tell him, hoping that’s enough.

“Don’t give them too much. It’s not good to let them dwell on your sins.”

I can’t find the heart to argue, because he’s right. I lashed out at the people closest to me, and showed them the monster beneath my skin.

“And what about this Red problem you mentioned?” he continues. “Anything I should know about?”

Back on the jet, I told Cal I was going north. Half of me said it out of anger, to prove something to him. The other half said it because it is the right thing to do. Because I’ve ignored things for far too long.

“A few days ago we intercepted a march order. The first of the child legions is being sent to the Choke.” My breath hitches, remembering what Ada said. “They’re going to be massacred, ordered to march out past the trenches, right into the kill zone. Five thousand of them, slaughtered.”

“Newbloods?” the Colonel prods.