Elizabeth throws a death-glare at me. “Apparently we’re doing things her way today. If Numbers wants to risk Dior’s safety in order to talk with the guy who will destroy us, she can.”

    He high-fives me. “Way to go, Ten. You’re in training, but you’re being trusted to lead. What an honor!”

    Stomach cramp. What if this is a test, and I’m failing?

    “If you go out there,” Elizabeth tells me, her tone grave, “you will endanger us.”

    Dior steps forward, her hands balled into fists. “My fate hangs in the balance. I should be the one to decide.”

    Uh, no. That would be a huge mistake. She doesn’t see the whole picture.

    Do I? Not even close. Am I allowing my desire to see Killian to direct my actions?

    I zip my lips. Testing, one, two, three.

    I nod at Dior. She’s right. Her future, her decision.

    At first, she says nothing else, and I shift from one booted foot to the other. If she says no...

    “You can go out there.” She expels a deep breath. “You do what you promised me. You bring back Gingerbread, alive and well.”

    My knees nearly buckle with relief. “I will.”

    “You heard her.” A victorious Victor hikes his thumb at the door. “Go out there and get answers, Ten.”

    I rush forward, stopping abruptly when Elizabeth grabs my arm. Eyes now resolved, she says, “You’re about to learn the harsh reality of the war between realms, and the betrayal you will always face at the hands of our enemy. Not because you’re facing Killian, but because you’re facing a Myriadian. Good luck.”

    chapter ten

* * *

    “Action without love is still action.”

    —Myriad

    I rush out of the farmhouse, certain of only one thing. I don’t believe in luck.

    When something good happens, someone has been working behind the scenes to see it through. Luck will not dictate Killian’s treatment of me. His character will.

    On the porch, I look past the Buckler—aka jellyair—and search for Killian.

    Clay races to my side. “I know what you’re planning, and I’m asking—no, I’m begging you to stay within our Buckler. I’ve been in Troika longer than you. I’ve heard rumors about Killian—”

    “I know what you’ve heard. He’s mad and bad to the bone. He wins whatever the cost.” Until me. “He’s changed.”

    “No. I mean, yes. I’ve heard those rumors, too. But there are others. New ones.” His tone drips with trepidation. “Worse ones.”

    Searching... “I don’t care about gossip. Rumors are a disease, usually started by people with an ax to grind, and they mutate as they spread.”

    “You’re right. And that’s the reason I never said anything until now. But this... I think Killian’s life hinges on his ability to neutralize you.”

    “No.” I give a vehement shake of my head. Killian would have told me when he messaged me. “How could anyone in Troika know what a Myriadian has or has not been ordered to do?”

    “I’m not sure. I just know I overheard Levi and Meredith talking.”

    Shock kicks me back a step. If Levi and Meredith truly believed Killian intends to “neutralize” me, they wouldn’t have used him as an incentive for me to work harder, to learn faster.

    Searching... “You must have misunderstood.”

    The next time we’re together, we will fight. There’s no way to avoid it. Be ready.

    My chest hollows out, but again, I shake my head. He would never hurt me. “I’m going to talk with him.”

    “Then I’m coming with you.”

    “No. You’re in danger, I’m not.” Still searching... Dang it, where is he? “Stay here, and stay safe.”

    There! A tall, dark blur through the jellyair. I race off the porch and through the trees, closing in on the shield...almost there.

    The ground quakes, as if a giant fist just smacked into the planet. I trip and land on my knees. My gaze lifts to the sky. The dome is gone, and a guard tower hovers above the farmhouse.

    Like clouds, towers are mobile, steered wherever the action is.

    Along the parapet, TLs and MLs are locked in a fierce battle—for rights to Dior? Fiery swords swing, appearing like bursts of lightning.

    Such violence. When will it end? How many lives will be lost today?

    Within seconds, the Buckler reappears, the battle nothing but a blob on the horizon.

    I stand and kick into motion, finally exiting the dome. Surrounded by trees, I’m sheltered from the battle by a canopy of leaves.

    Adrenaline surges as I search nearby thickets. Where is Killian? Was he attacked by patrolling TLs? Hurt? For that matter, where are the TLs? Now in the guard tower?

    I spin, calling, “Killian!”

    In the distance, leaves rattle. I palm the dagger sheathed in the side of my boot. Branches part...and Killian emerges, the rest of the world forgotten. His dark hair is messy, his shirt and battle leathers ripped in several places. He holds a sword in a tight grip.

    There’s a rope tied around his waist, the end stretched behind him like a tail. Whatever he’s dragging is hidden behind the line of trees.

    Our gazes meet, and we both go still. His savage intensity threatens to unravel my calm. His blue-gold eyes sing to me...always they sing, and the anguished melody haunts me.