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.