The weeks that followed fused together into one busy, frantic push for wartime resiliency. Normal life had become a distant memory for most, and occupations, hobbies, and obligations were pushed to the side for the greater good.
Each hour, new travelers poured into Havenbrooke from the far corners of Ells, bringing with them food, supplies, and soldiers. Within days, we'd filled every home and commercial building to the brim with refugees and voluntary military workers. Then, once we reached capacity, a boom town materialized outside the capital—a makeshift city of federates, outcasts, and those previously denied the right to make a difference.
But as exhausting as my schedule was, it did keep my mind occupied...and far away from the looming threat of extinction.
I spent my mornings arguing over battle strategies with the Command and my afternoons weaving rope for Mason's contraptions, assisting Victor in his bootcamp, delivering supplies to the blacksmiths, or escorting new arrivals to their workstations. On rare occasions, I had time to pop into one of Valerie's archery lessons, where men and women shot at wooden targets, and young children helped gather fletching materials for new arrows.
In the evenings, the army gathered at the campfires in the lower valley, too weary for anything but sharing a hardy meal and personal histories.
As for me, my nights involved isolating myself in my tent, flipping through Aila's journal, and doing my best to translate the contents as Richard snored beside me. Other times, I skimmed through the Ancient records I'd borrowed from the archivist to learn more about the Mad Commander. Or, as her own people called her, Aquarius—the Water Bearer.
And it was in those quiet moments of solitude that thoughts of Will bubbled to the surface. Moments when I wondered what the royal heir was up to, or if he missed me as much as I missed him.
You know, like some kind of lovesick buffoon.
But tomorrow always promised a new problem to solve, and even better, a proper distraction, and this morning was no different.
Rover and I walked side by side on our way to the gambrel roof barn, the army's newly designated HQ. Our boots padded across the saturated earth, and the respite from the snow did wonders for my mood. The valley had finally dethawed, and the winter crops were thriving in their cloches, cold frames, mini hoops, and greenhouses.
It wasn't enough to sustain our growing army, nor an overpopulated capital city, but thankfully, our rural migrants had come bearing gifts—and wagons full of smoked meat.
"The greenies seem to be faring okay," Rover said, nodding to our left, where young soldiers filled their lunch trays at the cook shack. "No one seems to be picking any fights. At least not with Jo and Gris around."
"If anything, those two are the instigators," I joked, smiling at the way the intimidating soldiers prowled the lunch tables, searching for someone to make an example of.
Rover was right, though. Cooperation had been remarkable across all departments and demographics, and it wasn't limited to the federal army. In the fields, city slickers finally got a taste of rural labor, and up on the hill, Siren put the elites to work building weapons, collecting supplies, or preparing food for a hungry nation. Litigated societal boundaries had all but eroded under Martial Law, and there was no room for discrimination with war on the horizon, not when Siren and Rover's company demonstrated that harmony was not only feasible, but necessary.
In the throes of paranormal warfare, we were all equals.
Eventually, Rover and I came upon a group of young soldiers leaning against the side of the barn. The men stood with their backs to us, and I suspected they were hiding from their superiors in hopes of prolonging their lunch break.
"—you can't date her, idiot. She's a literal spirit monster," one of them said.
"Yeah, a hot one," the shortest declared.
We slowed to a stop behind them, and I smiled at an unamused Rover.
"Some dream," another scoffed. "She'd touch you and kill you, welt."
"Worth it."
A blond boy folded his arms over his chest. "She's already dating that Sterling guy, isn't she?"
"Oh yeah? Where is he, then?"
"Yeah, I thought they broke up."
The brunette in glasses shook his head. "He stayed at the Rhean colony to secure our alliance. He's a literal king, you nut-heads. You can't compete with that."
"Most of you are too old to have an opinion, anyway. The girl's like sixteen," the first tacked on.
"I'm eighteen, actually," I announced, and the boys jumped out of their skin, whirling around to face us.
Their horror brought a toothy grin to my face, and they respectfully bowed their heads, acknowledging my presence and a scowling, seething Rover. Then they dispersed, tittering like school children.
"Well, that was disgusting," the captain complained as we pushed into the barn. He sent me a curious side-eye. "Why'd you lie?"
"I didn't lie."
"You're seventeen."
"I was. My birthday was in January."
He stopped dead in his tracks to stare at me. "What?"
Oh, gritz.
Maternal panic welled in his eyes, and I rushed to put an end to it before he wept over the milestone. "Rover...it's fine. It's not a big deal. I didn't even realize the date had passed until I saw Siren's calendar."
From her place at the sand table, Siren sighed miserably at the mention of Ellen's pregnancy chart. The planner included a myriad of items to purchase, things to do, and deadlines to meet before the baby arrived, and Siren and Victor were weeks behind schedule. Hell, the couple couldn't even agree on baby names. We all referred to the fetus as Nameless just to grind their gears, and Jo already bet money on their inability to come to a consensus before the kid arrived.
"You're an adult now," Rover whispered, as if he'd watched over me these last eighteen years, and Siren and I both rolled our eyes at the emotion coating his voice. "We have to celebrate."
"Pass."
"Come on, Fuse. It'll be a good excuse to let off some steam for a night! Everyone needs a bit of light fun with all this talk of the apocalypse."
"Everyone? Or just you?"
He slapped his hand to his chest. "I speak on behalf of the people, of course." When I didn't budge, he pursed his lips. "Look, I know you miss your boyfriend, but he'd want you to enjoy yourself every once in a while, not work yourself into the ground."
Siren tsked. "Wright just wants an excuse to get drunk."
"Not true!" The heathen draped his arm over my shoulder to steer me away from the archer. Then he lowered his voice. "Okay, a little true. But I haven't had a drop of alcohol since you left for Freemont, and you-know-who forces me to work after hours." He hung his head. "I miss being the charming lieutenant who spent his nights at the tavern, you know? This leadership stuff is overrated."
I snorted, patting the hand that dangled over my collarbone. Siren had every capable soldier working overtime, including our fatigued captain, but I knew he welcomed her ambition. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, and even General Iver feared their partnership. Any sane person would.
"Then throw a party," I told him. "But don't use my birthday as your justification. I don't want the attention."
A wolfish grin split his lips. "Copy that."
Rover's party was more akin to a festival than a social gathering. Multiple vendors welcomed federates into their establishments, musicians assembled in the streets to fill the night with jubilant folk songs, and the whole block reeked of alcohol and pipe smoke.
People from every nook and cranny of this country came up to introduce themselves, eager to meet the girl from their campfire stories, excited to set their eyes on the legendary Ikelos. They all wished me a happy birthday—thanks to Rover's unsightly banner—and most of them offered to buy me a drink, which I politely declined. If I got drunk tonight, I'd probably just cry over how much I loved a foreign power and spoil the mood.
But as annoyed as I was to be the main attraction, it was all worth it to see the smile on Rover's face. He looked the happiest I'd seen him in months, and the bags under his eyes were hardly visible tonight. He danced shamelessly with Siren's subordinates, spinning them about in circles and galloping around the tavern in his military boots. By my estimate, about two-thirds of our female population had fallen in love with him this winter, and I really didn't blame them; he was a gem among his species.
Rover wasn't alone in his exuberance, though. Almost everyone had arrived in high spirits, like they knew this could be the last chance they had to celebrate something. To put aside their fears and failures for one night and enjoy the present moment. To enjoy their lives as they were—and as they could be—before Regulas unleashed his army upon us.
A fit of laughter erupted behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to find Grismond, Sol, and Beckett slapping their knees and howling at something Claus had said, igniting a chain reaction among the federates until the whole bar was snickering. Meanwhile, Siren's group toasted the newest recruits and commended their bravery, officially absorbing the female strays into their collective.
It warmed my heart to see so many daughters and mothers willing to follow the path we'd carved. Determined to fight for their fallen family members, determined to show the world what two X chromosomes could do. And when their male peers raised their pitchers and cheered for that broken ceiling, it felt like a dream. I thought I'd never live to see the day when women could legally bear arms, and yet here I was, living it, breathing it.
Committing it to memory.
I spotted Jackson in the crowd. His family and friends surrounded him, and we exchanged brief looks of gratitude. My selfish actions may have set him off course, but my mission to Freemont had brought him home, and his experience there was bridging the divide between Rhea and Ells—and helping us eradicate the xenophobia that still existed within our walls.
Things were going so smoothly in all areas, it almost unnerved me. Nothing ever stayed this serene, this perfect, and it was difficult to bury the inkling that something was about to go terribly wrong.
Don't self-sabotage, Al, I thought, drowning my unease with the last sip of my beverage. Just enjoy it while it lasts.
Mason staggered toward me in the drunkest state I'd ever seen, and my mouth fell open in delighted shock. He'd undone the top four buttons of his shirt, leaving the upper half of his chest exposed, and his blond hair fell in chaotic strands across his forehead. "Rover told me we need to start watching the greenies more closssely," he said, his consonants sticky with alcohol. "Said they're preying on the female cadets. Sssaid they're being..." he glanced at Torian for help, who stood at his side, doing his best to keep the welt from falling over. "What'd he call 'em?"
"Miscreants," Tori supplied.
"Right. Missscreants."
I tilted my head, beaming at this glorious mess of a human being. "Is that right?"
Mason nodded seriously, and Tori grinned. "He also told us that we missed a special someone's birthday."
I huffed, eyeing the dance floor and the source of Rover's booming laughter. "He's quite the blabbermouth, isn't he?"
"I can't believe you din' tell us!" Mason pouted. "You know when my birthday is? Isss the summer. June ninth." He poked me in the arm. "Remember that, 'kay? I expect loads of giftsss." His smile turned cheeky. "And a speech."
Consistently forthcoming, this one. "I'd expect nothing less, Mace."
"Yes, and if you keep drinking, you won't live to see it," Tori cautioned.
Mason gasped, his eyes blown wide, and it pulled a snort from me. "Well tha's not good...whawouldja guys do without me?"
"Good question, soldier." Tori gently removed the pint from Mason's grabby hands and set it back down on the bartop where he'd stolen it from. "Let's hope we never find out."
The blond turned back to me with a serious expression, squinting at me as if that would help the room stop spinning. "Alex. Y'know how you can't eat bread now? 'Cause of vanaydum?"
"I can still eat bread, Mason."
"But you can't really." He beckoned me closer with his index finger. "Bread and beer are b'ssically the same, right? So what if you drank sssooo much beer that you just...like...burst into ashes?" His brow wrinkled in genuine concern. "Like...that next drink could be your last...and then...poof."
"Poof," I repeated.
He nodded again, but this time the corners of his mouth lifted in awe. "You could drink yourself to death...in one sssitting."
I quirked an eyebrow at Torian, who simply shook his head, unsure how the blond achieved this level of inebriation in under an hour. "Well...at least it would be a grand exit," I offered.
Mason's face dropped. "But...I donwanthato happen."
My heart seized the mumbled sentence and squeezed it tight. It was one of the sweetest things he'd ever said to me, and it probably took his whole blood supply in alcohol to get here.
"I'll be careful," I assured him.
He nodded, accepting my promise, and then he backed up into Tori and threw him a lazy grin. "She wasss my fiancé. Did y'know that?"
The startled medic looked to me for an explanation, but I shrugged, feigning bafflement. "I have no idea what he's talking about."
Mason gaped at me in betrayal. "Wha...?"
"I mean, can you imagine? Price and me?" I cringed. "I'm flattered though, Mace. Maybe in another life."
Tori draped Mason's arm around his neck and chuckled at his bewildered patient. "Okay...I should get him to bed before he makes an outrageous claim that offends the wrong person." He paused, realizing there were several strangers within earshot. "In his own sleeping bag. In the tent that we share. Platonically."
Only my traveling companions and I recognized that the boys were cohabitating under the pretense of friendship. But I knew nothing crazy had happened yet because Mason still wasn't man enough to kiss the medic, much to Valerie's frustration.
Then again, I could understand the human need to share those quiet, intimate moments together at the end of the day. I'd relished Will's warmth and late-night companionship long before romantic attraction ever took hold.
"Platonically," I agreed.
I smiled as the two boys hobbled away—Mason insisting we were intended to be wed, and Tori complaining that they were both too drunk for this conversation.
For a moment, I imagined Fudge laughing here beside me over Mason's drunken state. His beautiful blue eyes, his freckles, his elfish features. His snark drenched in compassion. My chest twinged at his absence, and I spun around to face the back of the bar, reining in the tears.
Strange, how someone could enter your life so briefly only to leave such a permanent mark behind.
"Ah. There's the guest of honor."
I swiveled on my stool to face my guest, but it was the last person I expected to see here tonight.
"...Justice Aimes."
The politician extended his hand. "Call me Sidney."
I blinked at him in surprise as I shook his forearm. What in the world is he doing here?
"Did you not think lawmakers cared for entertainment?" he asked as he sat down next to me.
"Not publicly, given your fall from grace. Plus, I didn't think this was your kind of crowd." As if scripted, Jo broke a dartboard in half, and the crowd burst into noise.
Aimes offered me a glass of whiskey, and I accepted it, if only to be respectful. The truth was, I didn't exactly hate the man, even if he did try to force my hand that day at the wall. I believed he wanted good things for this country, and I suspected that Sideburns and Bittercress had kept him in the dark about their nefarious actions. But I still wasn't sure what to think of the young politician, and Jaden had taught me to never consume a drink you didn't see the bartender pour herself.
"You know, Alex, even the mighty justices come down from their thrones to mingle with peasants here and again," he teased.
"I didn't mean it like that."
He chuckled, and it was the most artificial laugh I'd heard in ages. "I only kid. My peers felt above the people they spoke for. But I like to get to know my constituents...or who they were, I suppose."
I inspected the widower's profile. He bore a sculpted nose and jawline, and he kept his brown hair trimmed evenly around his ears and nape, like he groomed himself meticulously every morning in front of the mirror. But as bright and innocuous as his eyes were, there was something lifeless about them. They didn't match his 30-something years on this planet. They didn't reflect the world around them quite right.
"Sidney. What are you doing here?"
He stared out at the crowd for a beat, then turned to me with a small smirk. "Can't get anything past you, huh?"
"Lying is your trade. Distrusting people like you is mine."
For a while, Rover was concerned that the High Court would attempt to bribe our forces and shoot their shot at insurgency. But the weeds didn't seem the least bit interested in doing so. The geezers appeared to be enjoying retirement and the perks of demotion.
Aimes, on the other hand, was more difficult to decipher.
"Alex, I've always been on your side. Since the very beginning, I've rooted for you." He looked me in the eye, too earnest for my liking. "I've spent my whole career devoted to the agricultural crisis—something I know that we both care very deeply about. And when you first came to the courthouse, I thought your accomplishments were as remarkable as your passion. I didn't support the Court's decision to imprison you that day. And despite your actions at the wall, I was the only justice who voted to spare the demons below our feet." He leaned forward. "I think your peace accord is impressive, and I also agree with your nonlethal approach to this war. That's the exact kind of forward-thinking we need in this country."
I waited for the inevitable conjunction.
"I believe in the future you see," he told me. "But I have to ask...what happens if we fail?"
A chill raced down my spine at his question. "We can't."
"Now that's a politician's answer if I've ever heard one."
Fair enough.
"If we fail...then it's over. The civilians don't stand a chance. The demons will invade Ells, and man will cease to exist."
"...Not all men," he argued.
I raised my brow. "No?"
"Regulas, the son of Godric Sterling. He controls these demons, doesn't he? He determines what they do and when." His gaze slid from the crowd to my face. "Perhaps he can be persuaded to spare a few lives."
I let out a derisive snort. "If you think diplomacy is seriously an option—"
"Not diplomacy," he corrected. "Surrender."
I stared at him, and the traitorous word hung between us, leeching the air of heat and raising the hair on my arms. Was he really suggesting that we bow down to a mad man?
I set aside the drink I hadn't tasted, suddenly nauseous. "Surrender or fight, Regulas is still bent on killing us," I hissed. "He's after revenge, not domination."
"But then what does he have in the end?" Aimes pushed. "Nothing. No one to rule but mindless demons. And with no subjects, power is irrelevant." I didn't like the hungry, wistful look in his eyes. "But if we surrender...if we beg him to spare just one city, or even a handful of people...the human race lives on. We can survive this."
A handful of people?
How was that any different from our ancestors' despicable actions?
"You met with him, the king of Rhea. And in your debriefing, you said he was lonely, that being isolated had started to eat away at him. I think he'd welcome the idea of loyal subjects, especially with you as his..." He paused at the outrage pulsing in my eyes. "As his confidant."
I looked him over, disgusted and appalled by his line of thinking. If he'd been there when Regulas had sent his demon messenger, there was no doubt in my mind that this rat would have shipped me to the king's doorstep. He would have jumped at the opportunity to save himself, and boy, did he disguise his true intentions well.
He had everyone fooled.
"Think, Alex. We're putting all our hopes in you destroying that portal—without the Seventh Order, I might add. If that fails, we blow any chance of negotiation. We die." He lifted his glass, expecting me to drink with him, to share his reasoning. "Our only shot at survival is swearing fealty to the Rhean king."
Like hell.
"He's no king," I spat, loathing both him and Regulas for the roles they'd sullied. "And you're no leader, either. You act like you're different from the others, but you're all the same. You're all weak-minded cowards."
Rage flickered in dead eyes. "Fire can be useful under man's will, Alex. But untamed, it burns the world to ashes. And we can't have that." He scowled at me as I rose from my stool. "Don't burn too brightly. You'll make yourself a target."
I waved him off. "Threaten someone you actually intimidate."
And I left him there at the bar, spineless and alone.
The interaction spoiled the rest of my evening, and as the night dragged on, I found myself thinking of Will again. If he were here, he would have climbed a tree to escape the chaos or wandered off to sit with Richard. And I missed having a valid reason to disappear. I missed our silent moments and his sour mood and irritating, laconic replies.
Damn him for making me so codependent.
The party had died down a bit since the liquor's sedating properties took effect, and those who weren't engaged in Sol's epic storytelling were fully absorbed in Beckett's backgammon tournament. At some point during the evening, Siren had dragged Rover over to a table to help her with a military dilemma, but as drunk and exasperated as the man appeared, I could tell he was happy to be useful. He might have hid it well, but he was still battling his fear of abandonment, his need to be needed, and Siren valued him for so much more than she was willing to say. Victor, meanwhile, was somewhere down the boulevard, playing drinking games with his band of pirates and having the time of his life.
"Hey, Rove. Have you seen Valerie?" I asked. If anyone could help take my mind off that stupidly attractive prince for a while, it was her.
He dragged his gaze from Siren's map to the bartop. "She was flirting with Aimes for a bit. Haven't seen her in a while, though."
I frowned and scanned the tavern for a patch of black hair and a flower crown, but she was nowhere to be found, so I walked outside to see if she'd migrated to another bar. But the attendees had fallen to a few hundred people in the last hour, and I didn't see her anywhere.
I marched over to Claus and Grismond, who sat slumped against each other by the door. "Did you guys see Valerie leave?"
The Bear nodded, pointing his empty liquor bottle toward the lake. "The pretty judge offered to walk her home."
His answer opened a dark hole inside me—deep and ugly and cold.
"...You mean Justice Aimes?"
"That one. Val could barely stand on two feet. He said he'd help her back to her tent."
All of my blood rushed to fill the yawning cavity in my gut, and I felt sick.
Valerie had an extremely high alcohol tolerance. I'd never seen her wasted. Not once. She always stayed one step ahead of the men she toyed with, and even when she overdid it, she always came to me for a nightly recap. Always.
Why would she go home with—
Understanding wedged between my ribs like a vanadium blade, and I almost doubled over.
The drink...
The bastard had offered me a drink, and I'd refused. Then Valerie had joined him at the bar where I'd left it behind.
Where I'd left her with that snake.
I tore down the street, sprinting for the first sober sentinel I could find. It took a few minutes, but I finally saw a man in uniform watching over the Courthouse—guarding the entrance to the Ground, per Rover's orders—and I all but tackled him to the side of the building.
"Where does Sidney Aimes live?" I demanded, my hand tight around his collar.
He trembled against the wall, terrified of me and the power I possessed. "What are you gonna—"
I pushed him further into the stone, my chest heaving with panic. "Where does he live?"
**********************************************************************
I know. The cliffhanger is pretty cruel. But you guys should also be used to it by now!
My discord server "The Gritz" is now live if you guys want to join to talk spoilers / share art / theorize. I'll post the link on my profile page!
Thanks for reading!