King's Cage

Beneath us, the dropjet sways, bouncing on a bubble of air turbulence. After many hours in flight, it doesn’t faze me, and I continue shuffling cards. The second bump is deeper, but no cause for alarm. The third sends the cards flying out of my hands, fanning out in midair. I slam back against my seat and fumble for my harness. Cameron does the same while Cal snaps himself back, his eyes flashing to the cockpit. I follow his gaze to see both pilots working furiously to keep the jet level.

More concerning is the view. It should be sunrise by now, but the sky ahead of us is black.

“Storms,” Cal breathes, meaning both the weather and the Silvers. “We have to climb.”

The words barely leave his lips before I feel the jet tip beneath me, angling upward to higher altitudes. Lightning flashes deep within the clouds. Real lightning, born of the thunderheads and not a newblood’s ability. I feel it thumping like a faraway heart.

I tighten my grip on the straps crossing over my chest. “We can’t land in that.”

“We can’t land at all,” Cal snarls.

“Maybe I can do something, stop the lightning—”

“It won’t just be lightning down there!” Even over the roar of the climbing plane, his voice rumbles. More than a few heads turn in his direction. Davidson’s is one of them. “Windweavers and storms are going to blow us off course the second we drop through the clouds. They’ll make us crash.”

Cal’s eyes flutter up and down jet, taking stock of us. The wheels turn in his head, working on overdrive. My fear gives way to faith. “What’s your plan?”

The jet bucks again, bouncing us all in our seats. It doesn’t faze Cal.

“I need gravitrons, and I need you,” he adds, pointing at Cameron.

Her gaze turns steely. She nods. “I think I know where you’re going with this.”

“Radio the other jets. We’re going to need a teleporter in here, and I need to know where the rest of the gravitrons are. They have to distribute.”

Davidson ducks his chin in a sharp nod. “You heard him.”

My stomach swoops at the implication as the jet bursts into activity. Soldiers double-check their weapons and zip into tactical gear, their faces full of determination. Cal most of all.

He forces himself out of his seat, clutching the supports to keep steady. “Get us directly over Corvium. Where’s that teleporter?”

Arezzo blinks into existence, dropping to a knee to stop her momentum. “I do not enjoy that,” she spits.

“Unfortunately you and the other ’porters are going to be doing it a lot,” Cal replies. “Can you handle jumping between the jets?”

“Of course,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Good. Once we’re down, take Cameron to the next jet in line.”

Down.

“Cal,” I almost whimper. I can do a lot of things, but this?

Arezzo cracks her knuckles, speaking over me. “Affirmative.”

“Gravitrons, use your cables. Six to a body. Keep it tight.”

The newbloods in question spring to their feet, pulling wound cords from special slots on their tactical vests. Each one has a mess of clips, allowing them to transport multiple people with their ability to manipulate gravity. Back at the Notch, I recruited a man named Gareth. He used his ability to fly or jump great distances.

But not to jump out of jets.

Suddenly I feel very sick, and sweat breaks out on my forehead.

“Cal?” I say again, my voice climbing higher.

He ignores me. “Cam, your job is to protect the jet. Put out as much silence as you can—picture a sphere; it’ll help keep us level in the storm.”

“Cal?” I yelp. Am I the only one thinking this is suicide? Am I the only sane person here? Even Farley seems nonplussed, her lips pursed into a grim line as she cables herself to one of the six gravitrons. She feels my eyes and looks up. Her face flickers for an instant, reflecting one ounce of the terror I feel. Then she winks. For Shade, she mouths.

Cal forces me up, either ignoring my fear or not noticing it. He personally straps me to the tallest gravitron, a lanky woman. He cables in next to me, one arm heavy across my shoulders while the rest of me is crushed against the newblood. All down the jet, the others do the same, flanking their gravitron lifelines.

“Pilot, what’s our position?” Cal shouts over my head.

“Five seconds to center,” comes a responding bark.

“Plan all passed on?”

“Affirmative, sir! Center, sir!”

Cal grits his teeth. “Arezzo?”

She salutes. “Ready, sir.”

There’s a very good chance I will throw up all over the poor gravitron in the middle of this honeycomb of people. “Easy,” Cal breathes in my ear. “Just hold on; you’ll be fine. Close your eyes.”

I definitely want to. I fidget now, tapping my legs, shuddering. All nerves, all movement.

“This isn’t crazy,” Cal whispers. “People do this. Soldiers train to do stuff like this.”

I tighten my grip on him, enough to make it hurt. “Have you?”

He just gulps.

“Cam, you can start. Pilot, begin drop.”

The wave of silence hits me like a sledgehammer. It isn’t enough to hurt, but the memory of it makes my knees buckle. I grit my teeth to keep from screaming and squeeze my eyes shut so tightly I see stars. Cal’s natural warmth acts as an anchor, but a shaky one. I tighten my grip around his back, as if I can bury myself inside him. He murmurs to me but I can’t hear him. Not past the feel of slow, smothering darkness and an even worse death. My heartbeat triples, ramming in my chest until I think it might explode out of me. I can’t believe it, but I actually want to jump out of the plane now. Anything to get away from Cameron’s silence. Anything to stop remembering.