Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 29

"Why is this the least surprising thing I've seen all day?"

My gaze snapped from brittle, flax-colored pages to the weary soldier leaning against the wall. I'd been so engrossed in the contents of Laurel Murphy's file, I hadn't even heard Rover approach the library.

He'd shaved his five-o-clock shadow and trimmed his hair since I'd seen him last. And while his scraggly blond bangs still curtained his brow, his locks no longer hugged his nape and encased the tips of his ears. In fact, he looked like a professional now—and in some uncanny ways, Tom—but he didn't resemble the members of the Command in their stiff suits and scarless palms. No, Rover looked like he'd spent all week keeping a civil war from breaking out, like he'd charged into battle a thousand times in his meager 25 years of life. 

He looked...like a captain.

"What, me reading a book...?" I asked.

"No. You convincing Claus to blow a door open in a federal prison, investigating an ancient bunker, and deciding to sit here and explore its contents while the city tears itself apart." His tired grin made my lips twitch. "You're reliably troublesome. I'll give you that."

I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to cast aside the disturbing revelations long enough to apologize. "I'm sorry I didn't report to you and Siren sooner. I got...carried away."

For the entirety of the evening, if I had to guess. My eye strain told me I'd been skimming pages for at least four hours.

We stared at each other for a moment—an overwhelmed soldier who never sought leadership and the powerful delinquent left in his custody—and then, accepting my chronic disobedience, he broke away from the wall to meet me at my desk. "Beckett filled us in on Freemont and the alliance. And Price told me about the bunker." His eyes slid to the wooden door behind me. "As well as the hidden passage to the courthouse...and the officials seeking refuge there."

My gaze dropped to his sleeve. "...Just ask."

"Ask what?"

I tilted my head at him, impatient, and his expression darkened as he weighed his next words and the answers they might evoke.

"You have access to the High Court, Fuse. Those politicians upstairs have locked you up, publicly harassed you, and killed the soldiers you worked to save. You have every reason to be enraged." He lowered his voice. "So why haven't you acted on it?"

I pressed my lips together, unsure if this was a psychological deterrent or a request to end the untimely riots. "I am acting on it. I just had to do a little research first." I'd learned my lesson a million times over now. Passionately storming into a room of elders and begging the weeds to see reason had only ever weakened my propositions and bruised my reputation. This time was different. This time, I'd made an effort to collect my evidence beforehand, and I had one hell of a case. "But I'm ready now."

He regarded me with the same apprehension my father bore when I informed him of any personal decisions, as if there were six different choices that could fall off my tongue—all of them insane. "Ready for what, exactly?"

"An emergency assembly." As soon as the words left my lips, I shook my head. "More like a national convention, actually."

"A convention," he repeated, skipping right over dissuasion. By now, he knew there was no talking a Kingsley out of something they wanted to do. "And who are the attendees?"

"The High Court, city council heads, the Command, our strategic advisory committee, and any citizens who are willing to disarm themselves." I snapped my fingers. "And kids. I want as many children in the room as possible. Lots of girls, too."