No one cares, Colonel. I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. Mare is a prisoner. So what if they don’t get anything about the Lakelands, Piedmont, or Montfort?
Montfort. The distant nation ruled by a so-called democracy, an equal balance of Reds, Silvers, and newbloods. A paradise? Maybe, but I have long since learned that paradise does not exist in this world. I probably know more about the country than Mare now, what with the twins, Rash and Tahir, always squawking about Montfort’s merits. I’m not stupid enough to trust their word. Not to mention it’s pure torture holding a conversation with them, always finishing each other’s thoughts and sentences. Sometimes I want to use my silence on them both, to sever the ability that binds their thoughts into one. But that would be cruel, not to mention idiotic. People are already wary of us without watching newbloods ability-bicker.
“Does what they get out of her really matter right now?” I force through gritted teeth. Hopefully the Colonel understands what I’m trying to say. At least spare her brothers this, Colonel. Have some shame.
He just blinks, one good eye and one destroyed. “If you can’t stomach intelligence, then don’t come to control. We need to know what they got out of her in interrogation.”
“Samson Merandus is an arena fighter, though he has no reason to be,” Cal says in a low voice. Trying to be gentle. “He enjoys using his ability to inflict pain. If he is the one to interrogate Mare, then . . .” He stumbles over the words, reluctant to speak. “It’ll be torture, plain and simple. Maven has given her to a torturer.”
Even the Colonel looks disturbed by the thought.
Cal stares at the floor, silent for a long, stoic moment. “I never thought Maven would do that to her,” he mutters finally. “She probably didn’t either.”
Then you’re both stupid, my brain screams. How many times does one wicked boy have to betray you people before you learn?
“Did you need something else, Cameron?” Colonel Farley asks. He rolls up the message, spooling it like a circle of thread. The rest is clearly not for my ears.
“It’s about Corvium. Farley says it’s on the edge.”
The Colonel blinks. “Those were her words?”
“That’s what I said.”
Suddenly I’m no longer the focus of his attention. Instead, his eyes sweep to Cal.
“Then it’s time to push.”
The Colonel looks eager, but Cal could not seem more reluctant. He keeps still, knowing that any twitch might betray his true feelings. The lack of movement is just as damning. “I’ll see what I can come up with,” he finally forces out. That seems to be enough for the Colonel. He ducks his chin in a nod before turning his attention to Mare’s brothers.
“Best let your family know,” he says, putting on a show of being gentle. “And Kilorn.”
I shift, uncomfortable watching them digest the painful news of their sister and accept the burden of carrying it to the rest of their family. Bree’s words stick, but Tramy has strength enough to speak for his older brother. “Yes, sir,” he replies. “Though I don’t know where Warren gets to these days.”
“Try the newblood barracks,” I offer. “He’s there more often than not.”
Indeed, Kilorn spends most of his time with Ada. After Ketha died, Ada took on the arduous task of teaching him to read and write. Though I suspect he sticks with us because he has no one else. The Barrows are the closest thing he has to family, and they are a family of ghosts now, haunted by memories. I’ve never even seen her parents. They keep to themselves, deep in the tunnels.
We take our leave of the Colonel together, four of us trooping out of the control room in awkward, stilted single file. Bree and Tramy peel away quickly, stomping their way toward their family’s quarters on the other side of the base. I do not envy them. I remember how my mother screamed when my brother and I were taken away. I wonder what hurts more—to hear nothing of your children, knowing they are in danger, or to be fed news of their pain piece by piece.
Not that I’ll ever find out. There is no place for children, especially children of mine, in this stupid, ruined world.
I give Cal space, but quickly think better of it. We’re nearly the same height, and catching up to his harried stride is no problem.
“If your heart’s not in this, you’re going to get a lot of people killed.”
He whirls, almost knocking me on my ass with the speed and force of his movement. I have seen his fire firsthand, but never so strongly as the flame blazing in his eyes.
“Cameron, my heart is quite literally in this,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
Swooning words. A romantic declaration. I can barely stop my eyes from rolling.
“Save it for when we get her back,” I grumble. When, not if. He nearly set the control room on fire when the Colonel denied his request to explore ways to get messages to Mare within the palace. I don’t need him melting the hallway over a poor choice of words.
He starts walking again, his pace doubled, but I’m not as easily left behind as the lightning girl.
“I just mean to say that the Colonel has strategists of his own . . . people at Command . . . Scarlet Guard officers who don’t have”—I search for the proper term—“conflicting allegiances.”
Cal huffs loudly, his broad shoulders rising and falling. Clearly any etiquette lessons he may have had took a backseat to military training.
“Show me an officer who knows as much as I do about Silver protocols and the Corvium defense system and I’ll gladly step back from this mess.”
“I’m sure there’s someone, Calore.”
“Who’s fought with newbloods? Knows your abilities? Knows how best to use you in a fight?”
I bristle at his tone. “‘Use,’” I spit. Use indeed. I remember those of us who didn’t survive Corros. Newbloods recruited by Mare Barrow, newbloods she promised to protect. Instead, Mare and Cal threw us into a battle we were not prepared for, and it became clear Mare couldn’t even protect herself. Nix, Gareth, Ketha, and others from the prison I didn’t even know. Dozens dead, discarded like pieces on a game board.
That’s how it’s always worked with the Silver masters, and that’s how Cal was taught to fight. Win at all costs. Pay for every inch in Red blood.
“You know what I mean.”
I snort. “Maybe that’s why I’m not exactly confident.”
Harsh, Cameron.
“Listen,” I continue, switching tactics. “I know I’d burn everyone here if it meant getting my brother back. And luckily, that’s not a decision I have to make. But you—you actually have that option. I want to make sure you don’t take it.”
It’s true. We’re here for the same reason. Not blind obedience to the Scarlet Guard, but because they are our only hope of saving the ones we love and lost.
Cal quirks a crooked smile, the same one I’ve seen Mare moon over. It makes him look like more of a fool. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me, Cameron. I’m doing everything I can to keep us out of another massacre. Everything.” His expression turns harsh. “You think it’s just Silvers who care only about victory?” he mutters. “I’ve seen the Colonel’s reports. I’ve seen correspondence with Command. I’ve heard things. You’re embedded with people who think exactly the same way. They’ll burn all of us to get what they want.”
Maybe true, I think, but at least what they want is justice.
I think of Farley, the Colonel, the oathed soldiers of the Scarlet Guard, and the Red refugees they protect. I’ve seen them ferry people across the border with my own eyes. I sat on one of their airjets as it screamed toward the Choke, intent on rescuing a legion of child soldiers. They have objectives with high costs, but they are not Silver. They kill, but not without reason.
The Scarlet Guard are not peaceful, but peace has no place in this conflict. No matter what Cal might think of their methods and their secrecy, theirs is the only way anyone can hope to fight Silvers and win. Cal’s people brought this upon themselves.