Betrayal cuts deeper than any sword of the enemy.
"Killian?" His name echoes in my head like shouting into a cave. I push him off and scramble to my feet.
As the pain leaves his eyes from the kick to the crotch, fear replaces it. "Elle."
"You tried to kill me," I say, remaining calm despite the circumstances. "Why?"
"I wasn't trying to kill you," he says, failing to meet my eyes.
"You just tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my throat, Killian. Doesn't that sound murderous to you?"
"I'm not a murderer."
"Seriously, Killian," I roll my eyes. "You still have the knife in your hands. Why?"
He hangs his head, shifting his weight, but doesn't say anything. I allow a few beats of silence before I stride forward, glancing at him as I pass. I keep walking, my ears alert in case he decides to drive his knife into my back. But somehow, I know that he won't now that his mask can't hide him. As I walk back to towards the palace, I quietly hope he'll tell me. But he never does. Although, it's okay because I know why. I just wanted to hear him say it. I didn't keep Monet safe.
"Anyone know where Killian is?" Ajax asks the following morning at breakfast.
"He's in bed," Monet says, buttering her toast. "He isn't feeling well."
Ajax bites his lip. "I'm sorry to hear that. I just wanted to let you guys know that Ruben and I are working together to look after those who have the drown."
"Orion was right, wasn't he?" I ask, glancing at Ajax. I take a bite of my toast which feels like a mouthful of sand as the realisation hits me. "We can't save them."
Everyone is silent for a few unbearable beats. "It's okay, you don't have to hesitate to spare my feelings," I say softly.
Ruben sighs. "Unfortunately, we just don't have the technology to cure them. Neither does Mallory. All we can do is make them more comfortable than he did."
I remember the man in the Red Movement halls who spasmed to death. "Kill me," he said.
"We also need to prepare ourselves for Mallory's retaliation. But we are a city absent of an army, and I sense Mallory will not go down without a war," Ajax says.
"He certainly has his own," I say, sipping the coffee that I've grown a taste for. "The Beasts. The people who have the new strain of the virus. They're so far gone that they would likely follow whatever Edward wants."
"Not to mention his alliance with Aurelia," Monet chimes in, half gesturing to her bandaged shoulder.
"I vote that we try again with the other cities," I say.
"But this time, let's not run into it blindly," Ruben says. "Perhaps we could ask where the prisoners came from and if they came from the other two cities, they might be able to give us some insight into the leaders."
"Yeah, I admit our first attempt was not successful."
"You guys are missing one important group of people," Aston speaks up, having been listening and quietly eating his oatmeal. "You have forgotten the Untamed tribe."
"My mother," Ruben exclaims, practically jumping from his seat. "She almost found the cure. Let's bring her back here and see what she can help us with."
A rapid knock on the door sends heads turning. Griffin stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and face leeched of colour. "Ajax! I have an urgent message for you."
Ajax pushes himself up, striding over. "What is it?"
Griffin struggles to catch his breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. "They're here," he splutters between breaths. "The Red Movement is here. The Commander is also here. He asks for Elle."
All eyes in the room avert to me. A chill sweeps across my skin and my palms moisten. "What does he want?"
Griffin sucks in a now steady breath, tugging the collar of his shirt as if it's a rope around his neck. "He wouldn't say. He just said he wants to see you. He's outside the walls and said he will blow up Segment 6 if he doesn't see you by nightfall."
"How did he get the message across?" Ruben asks, stepping toward Griffin, who throws him a sheepish look.
"A little blackbird brought it to my office," Griffin says.
"A Mercuree," I say.
"A what?"
"A Mercuree. They are genetically engineered messenger birds. Mallory's creation."
Griffin gives his head a little shake, blinking rapidly. "Well, in that case, we had better believe this guy is crazy."
"I mean, I would call bullshit," I say. "But Mallory wants my blood and the blood of just about everyone else. I'd say we go see him. Right, Ajax?"
Ajax wrinkles his nose. "This guy has impeccably poor timing. How are we meant to fight a battle and tend to our sick at the same time?"
"Oh Ajax," Ruben says, eyebrows raising. "Have you learned nothing from history? People have always done the two at the same time. I think we will have to do the same tonight."
Ajax's brows pull together. "Alright, we need to all get some training in though."
---
The clang of blade on blade fills my ears. Droplets of sweat roll down the side of my face, drifting its salty scent into my nose. Aston flicks his sword towards mine and my quick reflexes block the sharp movement. He pushes his weight into his sword, forcing me off balance and flopping onto the grass, landing on my backside.
Aston laughs as I mutter a string of curses. "Here," he says, sliding his blade in its scabbard and then offering a hand. Just as I reach for it, he snatches it away and laughs again. "I got you!"
Rolling my eyes, I haul myself to my feet, examining the grass stain on the palm of my hand and scrunching my nose. "Aren't you a gentleman. Leaving a lady stranded on the ground."
"You're hardly a lady," he smirks, and I smack his arm.
"Of course, I am!"
He points to the knotted curls on my head and the dirt smudged on my arms. "What is this then?"
I snort, crossing my arms. "Alright, I'm no Isabelle. But I do try."
The glint in his eyes dulls and the corner of his lip pulls up in a small smile. "Can you imagine what she would think if she could see us now?"
Breathing out a laugh I say, "She would be horrified."
Aston pulls his belt off and the scabbard off, plopping down on the grass. He pats the spot next to him. "She definitely would not approve. What do you think she would have thought of Ruben?"
Sitting cross-legged, I raise an eyebrow. "Well. I hope she would have liked him."
He scratches his chin. "I'm not sure. She had very particular morals. Would she not question his judgement with things?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well," he pauses, brows pulling together, clearly choosing his words carefully. "His head injury after Segment Six went down...sometimes people's judgement can become clouded and less logical. I think she would think he's gotten more agitated and hot-headed."
"Don't you mean you would think that, Aston?" I say, holding back the venom. "Sure, Ruben had a concussion. But he isn't incapable."
"I know. But he's still a Concave, Elle. How can you know he is good for you?"
I shake my head in disbelief, narrowing my eyes at him. "What are you talking about? We no longer have that system. Why can't you just tell me what your problem is with him?"
"Because, Elle, in case you had forgotten, he is still the son of Lord Sneya."
Later that evening, I suit up in black pant, boots, and a protective leather over my torso. Aston's words still playing in my head, I secure my sword over of my back and make my way to the front of the palace where the others are waiting. A kind horseman transports us to the far end of the city. We travel on foot through the forest as the sunlight begins to wane. We drop through the trapdoor and make our way through the bunker to the train platform.
"While you were gone, Elle," says Ajax, "our team of Segment Six builders discovered that there is trapdoor to the outside just here." He walks over to a ladder at the far end of the platform, pointing to the ceiling. Gathering below him, we watch as he hoists himself up the ladder, flicks the clips at the trapdoor and pushes it up. Warm, orange light pours down the ladder and I squint. Ajax grunts as he hauls himself through the trapdoor. One by one, we all climb and squeeze up.
As I emerge from below the ground and reach out, my fingers sink into soft, gritty sand. Glancing up, a silver lake splashes onto the shore several metres away. The burnt half sun floats in the water, rippling its fire across the silver plateau. As I stand, my eyes cross the lake to monstrous trees that billow into infinity. A sliver of a train track cuts into the forest. Above me, the sky is an array of orange and pink, with the indigo and navy of night brushing the sky as if the Earth fell into depression and decided to paint her canvas to match. Behind us, the Walls loom.
There, we wait.
We wait until the sun disappears, bringing the clouds over the beach.
At last, we hear the footsteps.
The clouds hang low like a blanket of ghosts, reminding us of our mortality. A single figure stands in the mist. He reaches across himself, grabbing the hilt of the sword at his hip. Pulling the blade out, he brandishes it in front of him and advances forward. As he does, a line of guards materialises from the mist, followed by another and another. Edward Mallory's soldiers, armed with short swords and large, round shields, all stare rigidly at me as if Edward has soaked each of their brains in hatred.
"Elle," Edward calls, the sound chilling my blood. "I am a man of fairness. So today, I offer you a dual. If I win, I take back those prisoners. If you win, I will leave graciously."
"Why would I gamble the lives of those people?" I ask, advancing a few steps forward.
Edward grins widely, his lips crunching the scar over his eye. "Because if you don't, I will destroy your city walls and unleash my army of Beasts to your people."
Swallowing his words, I pull my sword from behind my back. "Why do you think the only way is to find a cure?"
His eyes widen and then narrow into slits. "A cure is the only way because nothing else has worked."
"But have you found a cure?"
Edward falls quiet, fidgeting with his fingers.
"There is no cure, Edward," I say, swinging the sword in a figure of eight and lowering into a stance. "It's time to face it. But I would be willing to work with you to find another method. Prevention."
"There's too much risk," Edward protests, his sword quivers in his hand. "Prevention isn't perfect. The disease can still slip through the cracks."
"But look how much you have forsaken!" I inch forward as Edward swings his blade into position. We circle one another, eyes locked like dancing snakes. "Look at all the suffering you've enabled!"
"Some things have to be sacrificed for a success," Edward says. "The sacrifices I've made are not going to waste."
"You've killed people."
"So have you, Elle." Then he strikes, his words almost catching me off guard, but I block his blade with my own.
"Kill her!" I hear someone in his army shout, fuelling a wild flare in his eyes like an animal thirsty for blood.
A guttural cry emanates from his mouth and he slashes his sword ungracefully at my arm. He cuts the air over and over, but my reactions are too fast for his clumsy, uncalculated movements. Metal against metal, screeching against one another sets the adrenaline pumping through my veins and into my heart. We parry one another as Edward's frustration grows. He swings his sword at my head, and I duck, grabbing a handful of sand and stones in my hand, flinging it up at his face. He cries out, hand instinctively flying to his face, sword faltering out of his other. I rear back and kick him square in the chest, sending him sprawling on the ground. I hold my sword out, tip teasing the skin on his neck.
"Leave, Edward," I say, meeting his red, watery eyes flickering with fear. "Leave our city at once and do not come back."
He bares his teeth like a gorilla and scrambles backwards. "Very well. Today, you win this battle. But watch as I win the war."
He stands, picks up his sword and, without another word, marches into his army who graciously create a gap for him. They turn around like a collective machine and move as one back into the haze of the clouds.