Glass Sword

I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”

He settles a hand on his pistol, draws up his spine, and spits at the floor. “Well, Command did order me to help you. I think it’s time we did something useful together.”

The infirmary is quiet, a good place to wait. Sara was allowed to leave the barracks designated for Silver use, and she made quick work of anyone injured. Now the beds are empty but for one. I lie on my side, staring at the long window in front of me. The deceivingly blue sky has faded into steel gray. Another storm maybe, or perhaps my eyes have darkened. I simply cannot see any more sunlight today. The sheets are soft, worn by too many washings, and I fight the urge to pull them up and over my head. As if that could stop the memories from coming, each one breaking hard as an iron wave. Shade’s last moment, his eyes wide, one hand reaching for me, before the blood burst from his chest. He was coming back to save me, and it got him killed. I feel like I did so many months ago, when I hid in the woods, unable to face Gisa and her broken hand. Now I can’t stand the thought of returning to my family and seeing the hole Shade left behind. They are certainly wondering where I am, the girl who cost them a son. But it is not a Barrow that finds me here.

“Shall I come back later, or have you finished feeling sorry for yourself?”

I sit up sharply, only to see Julian standing at the foot of my bed. His color has returned, as have his missing teeth, courtesy of Sara. But for the mismatched clothes, leftovers from the Tuck stores, he looks like his old self again. I expect a smile, maybe even a thank-you, but not a scolding. Not from him.

“Can a girl get a moment’s peace around here?” I huff, falling back against the thin pillow.

“By my reckoning, you’ve been hiding for the better part of an hour. I think that’s more than a moment, Mare.” The old teacher is trying his best to be kind. It isn’t working.

“If you must know, I’m waiting on the Colonel. We have an operation to plan, and he’s rounding up volunteers as we speak.” So there. But Julian isn’t that easily deterred.

“And you decided taking a nap was a better use of your time than, say, addressing the other newbloods, maybe calming down a bunch of very jumpy Silvers, getting some medical attention, or even speaking with your own grieving family?”

“I have not missed your lectures, Julian.”

“You lie well, Mare,” he says, smiling.

He closes the distance between us almost too quickly, coming to sit beside me. He smells clean, fresh from a shower. This close, I can see how thin he’s become, and the hollow emptiness of his eyes. Even Sara cannot heal minds. “And a lecture needs a listener. You are certainly not listening to me anymore.” He lowers his voice and tips my face, making me look at him. I’m tired enough to let him. “Or anyone, for that matter. Not even Cal.”

“Are you going to yell at me too?”

He smiles sadly. “Have I ever?”

“No,” I whisper, wishing I didn’t have to. “No, you haven’t.”

“And I’m not about to start now. I have only come to tell you what you need to hear. I will not make you listen, I will not make you obey. I leave you the choice. As it should be.”

“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.