Interesting.

    “Got other plans myself,” Reed says with a shrug.

    Very interesting. Would their plans happen to be together...a secret romance brewing, perhaps?

    “No problem. I hope you have fun.” I hug one, then the other. “I’ll see you guys later.” I’ll go home, flip through my new mental files and work on decoding my Key so that I can better help Dior.

    As I make my way out of the Hall, again remaining on alert, an azure glow springs from my palm.

    Curious, I tap the brand. A message from Victor appears.

    How about we get together and come up with a campaign to ensure Archer wins the Resurrection?

    My heartbeat speeds up. Yes! I need Archer. He will help me decode my Key. He will help me save Dior—and in the process, save Troika.

    I send a response, one-handed typing still harder than I ever could have imagined. My place? And brung manna.

    His response appears a few seconds later. Your typing still sucks, I see. (Thankfully I can read Ten.) I’m on my way.

    He beats me there, a bag of manna wafers in hand.

    Victor, I soon learn, is far different than his older brother. Archer gave new meaning to the phrase “in your face,” while Victor is all about subtlety and even misdirection.

    “After our session with Levi, I asked around,” he says. “Everyone wants the Conduit to return. I failed to make them understand we don’t need the Conduit. We have you, and Archer is clearly the optimum choice.”

    “What makes you think so?” The question awakens a tide of guilt inside me. Shouldn’t I agree flat-out? Why do I need proof my friend is the optimum choice?

    He rolls his eyes. “One day, you’re going to have serious power in this realm. You need to be surrounded by people you can trust.”

    And I can’t trust the Conduit?

    “We have to let people know why Archer is the better choice without actually saying so,” Victor continues. “The moment we start claiming he’s the best, people will stop listening. Arguing never changes anyone’s mind.”

    We sprawl on my living room floor and dig in to the manna. When every crumb is gone, I lean against the couch. Victor lies back on the rug and throws a small ball into the air. Catch and release. Catch and release. I think the simple rhythm helps him to focus.

    I wonder what the other newbies are doing tonight, if they’ve made new friends. If they have a new purpose.

    “What do you suggest?” I finally ask, picking up our conversation as if it hasn’t lagged. “I’ve never tried to reach people without stating my desire up front.”

    “First, we figure out who’s currently the most influential person in the realm, and we target him. Or her. One person can lead thousands. Second, we’re going to have to leverage Dior. She’s sick with the Troikan version of the boogeyman, and while another Conduit could help combat that sickness, Dior has to agree to be cleansed. Will she? Since she loved Archer, he might be the only one capable of convincing her to say yes.”

    “I...don’t know how I feel about that.” Am I being ultrasensitive, or is this something the old Killian would have suggested? 1) We would be playing on everyone’s fears. Fear is the enemy at your back with a knife at your throat.

    2) The Resurrection takes place in less than a month. What if we can convince Dior to be cleansed—neutralizing Penumbra—much sooner? If that happens, Archer won’t be needed. Not the way Victor suggests, anyway.

    His plan strikes me as underhanded. But this is Archer’s brother I’m dealing with; he grew up in Myriad, a child of the Secondking—he’s a literal prince. He learned his MO from the same people who taught Killian.

    A glow springs from his brands. He checks the message and groans. “I’ve got to go.” He sits up and wiggles his brows at me. “I’ve got a hot date.”

    Frustration takes a big bite out of my calm. Archer’s fate hangs in the balance, and we have yet to develop a workable idea to save him. I can’t do this alone, and Victor is bailing on me?

    “You’re going on a date, and yet you groaned, as if in pain,” I say.

    He gently bounces the ball off my nose. “Because you girls are a lot of work.”

    I twist my fists under my eyes, mimicking tears. “Poor baby. So who’s the girl?”

    “None of your business, Miss Lockwood.”

    “So you’re protecting her identity. The relationship must be serious, then.” The Book of the Law says it’s best to date a person selected for us by the Grid. 1) It’s supposed to keep the peace between, well, everyone. No more fighting over a mate, or thinking you belong with someone who would be better off with someone else. 2) It’s supposed to keep our focus where it belongs. On the war. And 3) it’s supposed to prevent messy breakups.

    Is Victor’s date not Grid-approved? Because of free will, we can date whomever we want. Grid-approved or not. Either way, he has nothing to hide.

    I wonder if my recurring dream about Killian is the Grid’s version of permission.

    Wishful thinking? I mean, why choose Killian, a Myriadian? Why not select a Troikan for me?

    “Just...think about what I said, okay?” He stands. “Help me with this, and I’ll help you with something you really, really want...finding a way to stop the war.”

    I purse my lips. “How do you know I want to stop the war?”

    “Doesn’t everyone?” He hikes his shoulders. “Face it. You’re not exactly subtle.”

    He takes off before I can lob a million questions at him. How would he help me? Why hasn’t he helped me already? Can he list at least three ways I’ve been less than subtle? Gotta work on my game.