A monstrous groan roars across the kingdom, but the water around me absorbs the sound, turning it into a dull reverberation that rattles through my bones. I spin myself around, and watch with a moment of peace, as the bombs explode, triggering one another and billowing clouds of infernos into the air, a storm of bright orange and yellow. Then the bridge collapses. Enormous chunks of debris crack from the construction, falling into the river. I swim to the surface, gasping for oxygen. Ruben waves from the side of the river, shouting my name.
Panic surges through me as more debris rains over my head. I scream as a large chunk of the bridge catapults me through the air. I swim across the river, coughing and spluttering as I stumble up the river back, flinging myself into Ruben's arms.
"Come on," he hisses, grabbing my face, and pushing my sopping hair out of my eyes as he checks for any scrapes and bruises. "We need to return to the palace right now."
I rush a goodbye to Aston and Baron, before following Ruben and Ajax through the Convex Sector and into the underground tunnels. Shivers rake down my spine and my teeth chatter.
"We need to get you warmed up," Ruben says.
When we finally slip into a back garden entrance of the palace, the water has dried from my skin, but my hair, still damp, leeches the last dregs of heat from my body. Ruben follows me into my room, and grabs a blanket, wrapping it around me. I tremble as he rubs my shoulders.
"I can't believe we did that," Ruben says. "We destroyed the only connection between the sectors. The king will retaliate." I can hear the distant, scarcely buried quiver in his tone – evidence of the little boy who both seeks his father's approval but also fears what is to come.
My heart clubs against my bones. "This is a rebellion against the throne. Of course, he will. He wouldn't let himself fall too easily." I stare up at him, watching the sliver of moonlight brush the grooves of his cheekbones.
He sighs, pinching his brow. "Will you be okay until dawn?"
"I'm going to warm up and try to sleep." I offer a tight smile.
His gaze lingers on my own, and I feel like losing myself in the warm forest of his eyes. "I was afraid I might lose you tonight," he whispers, tucking my red curl behind my ears. "I can't lose you, Elle. You know that, right?"
The breath deflates from my lungs. "Yes," I mutter.
His lips, only inches from mine, set fire to my soul. But then he tears himself away and wishes me goodnight.
My hands tremble as I crawl into bed, still reeling from our proximity. I grip the blanket, hunched beneath. I am warm and cold all at once. Like teetering on the edge of madness. When I close my eyes, I see him. Those forest eyes. The way he looks at me as if I'm a dancing flame. And I realize I want to burn with him.
The next morning, Tranqs barge into my room, startling me awake. Dressed in complete Tranq armour and helmets, they haul me out of bed, tossing my pants and tunic at me.
"Dress," one of them barks.
"What's going on?" I say, not bothering to hide as I pull on the cargo pants and slip into the tunic.
Another Tranq hands me my boots and I step into them. "He knows what you did. How could you do something so stupid, Elle?" they say with a trembling voice. "You're going to destroy us all."
Those last words rattle around in my skull as the Tranqs lead me through the palace, down the foyer steps, and into the awaiting carriage.
"Where's Prince Talin?" I ask, leaning against the window as the carriage jolts forward. The horses hasten along the path, out of the gates, and into the Concave Sector.
"He's completing his royal duties this morning," says the Tranq opposite me.
I blow out my cheeks, trying to ignore the knots in my stomach. The carriage pulls to a stop by the river. The rumble of the crowd grates along my spine and I taste vomit as I spot the king smirking from the riverside. I mutter a curse as the Tranqs direct me out of the carriage and toward the king. Hundreds of too-eager Concaves gather along the boardwalk. In the sunny haze, I can see patches of Convex on the other side. Skeletons of the bridge stick into the air. Chunks of metal and wood float in the murky water gathered in clumps against the brick wall that descends into the watery gloom. Dozens of Convex folk haul them out with ropes. Knots tug at my insides.
"Hello, Elle," King Talin bellows, loud enough for even some of the Concaves to flinch.
"Your Majesty." I curtsey.
He then turns to the Concave crowd. "Last night, a small, cowardly band of rebels collapsed the bridge. The connection between the two sectors of our kingdom. They wanted to cut off our access to one another and bleed the Concave Sector of their food and resources."
The king meets my eye and sneers, looking more snake-like than ever. "None of these rebel schemes will ever cut through the thick skin that is our kingdom." He waves his gnarled hand around his head, spit flying as he speaks. "The demise of the kingdom will not be ignited by some scrawny girl from the poorest Convex village."
Then he nods at a scrawny Convex man wearing brown slacks. The man slips into the small wooden booth a stone's throw from the carcass of the bridge. The ground tremors. A deep, belly groan reverberates through the kingdom and the water ripples as an enormous hunk of metal and wood erupts from the water. The second half of the structure rises from the other side of the river, water gushing off the material. I let out a scream. A body lifts from the water, dangling from a noose around its neck, fastened to the rising wood and metal arms. With a teeth-splitting crack, the pieces connect, sending water cascading off the sides, and splashing back into the river. It is slick with moss. But it is another bridge.
I lose my balance and stumble back, leaning against the carriage. The horse snorts behind me. I swallow and step to the edge of the river, peering at the swaying body. My hand flies to my mouth. It's Baron, the bomb maker. His face is swollen, fingers water-logged.
"What have you done?" I snap my head to the king and fling myself at him. But the Tranqs grab me, digging their sharp nails into my flesh as I writhe and thrash.
The king chuckles as he strides up to me.
"Like I said, Elle. Always have a backup." He snarls, eyes glimmering, crow's feet crinkling. Then he leans forward, his breath fanning my ears and he lowers his voice. "You reek of gunpowder."
The Tranqs shove me back into the carriage, and the horseman leads us back through the Concave Sector, and back to the palace.
They deposit me in my room and march out. But one of them pauses, gripping the door over his body, scowling at me. "You have a day off from your Tranq duties, Elle. But don't expect Prince Talin to seek you. He is busy. Might be a good day to reflect or train or do something that'll actually benefit the city."
The clack of the door chimes through the room as I ball my fists my heart just wishes Larissa was here. Her cherry smile would feel like medicine right now. Images of the hanging bombmaker flash across my mind and curses tumble into the lonely room as I traipse into the bathroom, and crank the faucet, waiting for the tub to fill. I don't bother closing the curtains as I peel off my clothes. No one can see me from this high up into the palace anyway. The hot water eases my tense muscles and washes the dirt caked into my skin from last night. A rattling sigh loosens from my chest as I scrub and scrub, covering myself in the sudsy soap, waves of nausea knocking through me as the sickly-lavender scent permeates the steamy bath chamber. Perhaps if I keep going, I'll be able to tear the phantom blood off my skin that belongs to the bombmaker.
Salty tears slip into my wavering lips and a sob echoes around me. "I killed him," I mutter, my voice twisted and strangled. "I killed him."
My body shakes despite the hot water and it takes every ounce of strength to not let the shadows – which creep around the borders of my consciousness – completely take me over.
I welcome the rough fabric of the towel grazing my skin, and dress in a fresh set of Tranq uniform, pulling on the armour and slipping my knives and sword into their respective scabbards around my belt. My damp hair smells of the floral wash as I dry it and twist it into braids. Then I pull my helmet on.
I ask one of the servants to arrange a small horse and cart. The horseman raises his brows at the red locks poking out from below my helmet but says nothing as I climb aboard. He guides the horse through the kingdom, across the newly risen bridge. Convex workers scrub and scrape the moss from the surfaces. Their curious, scornful eyes scorch into me. My tell-tale red hair tells them exactly who I am.
Red hair is rare in the kingdom. My family always had the brightest red. My father's hair and beard faded into a dark auburn by the time the Tranqs arrested him, banishing him from the walls.
The horseman stops outside Aston's village, and I thank him by pressing a coin into his palm. I trudge through the northernmost Convex village running alongside the river towards the beginning of the farmland. Wood fires cough plumes of sooty smoke from chimneys. Children kick a tin together in the sunshine. A slim woman milks her goat chained to her front step. I know Aston will be at work, plowing the farms, selling in the markets, or delivering across the river.
A smile flicks on my face as I make my way up the freshly laid straw path, knocking on the door of Aston's home. Madam Sallow's gummy grin greets me moments later.
"Goodness, what are you doing here, girl?" she says, ushering me inside, the whiskers in her brows bouncing up and down as she frowns and tuts at me. "I thought they'd have converted you to royalty by now."
She swipes a match against the wooden slab next to her stove and ignites the flame. The cramped kitchen soon smells of Earl Grey tea as she spoons some of it into the teapot, waiting for the water to boil.
"I will never completely convert to royalty," I say, sitting in the rickety chair at the table. "Not really."
Madam Sallow raises those thin, grey-white brows. "I am not so sure about that. Isn't the prince handsome?"
Blush creeps into my cheeks. "He is. But he's also an arse. He's not as bad as his father though."
The pot bubbles and she grabs it with her stained mitts and pours the steaming water into the teapot. "You must be careful of him. He is the king's son after all. How much can he truly empathise with you?"
The question stumps me, and I allow several beats to pass as she places a mug before me. I take a sip, wincing at the burn. "I believe he has suffered more than we realise. Prince Talin has a kind heart beneath the brooding exterior."
"Taunted souls are dangerous, Miss Elle," she says, waggling her finger. "Which begs, the question, will you really marry this royal boy, Elle?"
I open my mouth to respond when Aston throws the door open and traipses in. "Ah, my two favourite ladies!" he says, swatting the grass and twigs from his hair.
"Excuse me, boy!" Madam Sallow barks. "Not in my house!"
He snorts, pressing an adoring kiss to her leathery, sun-spotted cheek. "It's my turn to sweep anyway. So, I'll clean it up."
As soon as Aston changes into fresh clothes, he slumps against the wall, wiggling his brows at me. "Time to get a drink."
"Just don't come back like a couple of drunken idiots and interrupt my sleep!" Madam Sallow says, jabbing her wrinkled finger at us.
We cross through the farmlands and meadows, stepping over the threshold into the tight-knit streets. Dust swirls around my boots as I trudge over the cobbles. "You don't have a quiet bone in your body when you're drunk," I say, shaking my head and clicking my tongue.
Aston throws me a grin. "Remember when we came home from our first day in the king's army absolutely off our face and Lyra had to nurse us back to health?"
I cringe, sucking in a harsh breath. "She didn't speak to me for a week after that because she missed a shift at the laundromat that morning."
"She did laugh at us though." He waggles his finger.
A warmth blows through me. The feeling of safety with Aston. I pull my hair out of the braids, letting it run wild as we slip into the back alleyway pub.
A fire blazes in the hearth to the left. Drunkards mill about, bellowing with laughter, clanking their pitchers of ale together, and smoking cigars. Candles bounce dull, yellow light around the room. But I prefer the shadows. We order ale and slump into a booth. The icy drink soothes my raw throat and settles my stomach.
"Elle," someone says.
I turn around to see an older man, tall and slim, sporting a short mustache. Moles and freckles splatter his balding head.
"You rigged the bridge with the bombmaker's bombs." Saliva splatters from his tongue and I spot three metal teeth in his otherwise gummy mouth.
I wish the floorboards would open so I could flee. "Yes."
He rubs his chin. "You know the Convex have your back. It's the folks across the river you need to win over. Show them who their king truly is."
As he slides into the seat, a scream tears through the bar, and an arrow lodges into the man's ribs. Before I can even scream, he grunts, and gurgles, ripping it from his flesh and bleeding out. His head rolls forward. I turn into stone for several vital moments. Screams erupt throughout the tavern. More arrows slice through the room, hitting their targets with shrieks and groans of agony. Five Tranqs march into the bar, flanking the exit, armed with quivers. Bodies collapse to the floor and patrons desperately try to stumble behind the bar or duck for cover beneath the tables but there are only so many places to hide. Terror wraps around my throat as blood splatters on my cheeks from another nearby arrow plunging through someone's throat. The warm liquid dribbles into my mouth and I gag at the metallic taste of death.
"Aston, hide!" I shout, the world screaming around me.
I leap across the room as arrows tear past my head, diving behind the bar and grabbing a towel. The woman behind the bar whimpers as I press the towel against the bleeding wound in her stomach. Sweat trickles her forward and her face contorts with excruciating pain. "Stop them, Elle. You are one of us," she says with a rasp, her face drooping as the life slips from her.
I glance around the room. The fire dances in the hearth and the arrows crisscross like dragonflies darting over a pond. Screams and screeches of death bore into my bones, igniting fury within me and a hunger for vengeance.
"Who are you fighting for, Tranqs?" I bellow, rising from behind the bar. "The king and his comforts? Or the men and women who are the backbone of this kingdom. You can kill us, feed us with poison, starve us, and exile us to the monsters beyond, but you need us. We are the reason you have the luxuries you enjoy and the basics to survive."
"Stand down, rebel," a Tranq barks, nocking an arrow towards me.
"You think the king cares for you? That he wouldn't kill you if you were one of us? You are nothing but a pawn in his little game. A pawn in a lonely man's reign of power."
"The king warned you," the Tranq says, nostril flaring. "Warned you about the price of rebellion. Now look at the blood on your hands."
As the arrows continue to sing through the room, I snap a wooden chair into shards of the material. I hold the ends of the wooden sticks into the flames until they ignite, and I toss them haphazardly around the bar. Fire catches; roars and crackles. A searing heat fills the room.
The Tranqs scatter, ordering one another back into the street. Aston and I help usher the remaining villagers outside and into the alleyway. Smoke clings to the back of my throat and my face burns. Vomit churns in my stomach.
My heart tears as I see how few I saved. The woman with the stab wound. A young man coughing and spluttering, leaning against the wall of the next building. Three middle-aged men covered in soot and dirt from the farms and the flames.
"Elle, you need to go back to the palace," Aston says, his expression carved from the wind. He nods at the Tranqs standing stiff in the courtyard, far away from the burning pub.
They grip their staffs and stare at me rigidly.
My chest burns and my bones rattle with terror as I shoulder past them, making my way back to the palace.