“Don’t move, Mare. This place will kill us!”

Something whines in my ears, almost drowning out Farley’s cold laugh. As I sit up, I can see she’s waiting patiently for both of us.

“How do you know the south, the Ruins, are still radiated?” she asks with a mad smile.

Maven trips over the words. “We have machines, detectors, they tell us—”

Farley nods. “And who built those machines?”

“Techies,” Maven croaks, “Reds.” Finally, he understands what she’s getting at. “The detectors lie.”

Grinning, Farley nods and extends a hand, helping him off the floor. He keeps his eyes on her, still wary, but allows her to lead us out onto the platform and up an iron set of stairs. Sunlight streams in from above, and fresh air swirls down to mix with the murky vapors of the underground.

Then we’re blinking in the open air, staring up at low-lying fog. Walls rise all around, supporting a ceiling that no longer exists. Only pieces of it remain, little bits of aquamarine and gold. As my eyes adjust, I can see tall shadows in the sky, their tops disappearing into the haze. The streets, wide black rivers of asphalt, are cracked and sprouting gray weeds a hundred years old. Trees and bushes grow over concrete, reclaiming little pockets and corners, but even more have been cleared away. Shattered glass crunches under my feet and clouds of dust drift in the wind, but somehow this place, the picture of neglect, doesn’t feel abandoned. I know this place from the histories, from the books and old maps.

Farley puts an arm around my shoulders, her smile wide and white.

“Welcome to the City of Ruins, to Naercey,” she says, using the old name forgotten long ago.

The ruined island contains special markers around the borders, to trick the radiation detectors the Silvers use to survey the old battlefields. This is how they protect it, the home of the Scarlet Guard. In Norta, at least. That’s what Farley said, hinting at more bases across the country. And soon, it will be the sanctuary of every Red refugee fleeing the king’s new punishments.

Every building we pass looks decrepit, coated in ash and weeds, but upon closer inspection, there’s something much more. Footprints in the dust, a light in a window, the smell of cooking wafting up from a drain. People, Reds, have a city of their own right here, hiding in plain sight. Electricity is scarce but smiles are not.

The half-collapsed building Farley leads us to must’ve been some kind of café once, judging by the rust-eaten tables and ripped-up booth seats. The windows have long since disappeared, but the floor is clean. A woman sweeps dust out the door, into neat piles on the broken sidewalk. I would be daunted by such a task, knowing that there is so much left to sweep away, but she carries on with a smile, humming to herself.

Farley nods at the cleaning woman, and she hurries away, leaving us in peace. To my delight, the booth closest to us holds a familiar face.

Kilorn, safe and whole. He even has the audacity to wink. “Long time no see.”

“There’s no time to get cute,” Farley growls, taking a seat next to him. She gestures for us to follow and we do, sliding into the squeaky booth. “I take it you saw the villages on your cruise down the river?”

My smile quickly fades, as does Kilorn’s. “Yes.”

“And the new laws? I know you’ve heard about them.” Her eyes harden, like it’s my fault I was forced to read the Measures.

“This is what happens when you threaten a beast,” Maven mutters, jumping to my defense.

“But now they know our name.”

“Now they’re hunting you,” Maven snaps, bringing a fist down on the table. It shakes the thin layer of dust, sending floating clouds into the air. “You waved a red flag in front of a bull, but didn’t do much more than poke at him.”

“They’re frightened though,” I pipe in. “They’ve learned to fear you. That has to count for something.”

“It counts for nothing if you slink back into your hidden city and let them regroup. You’re giving the king and the army time. My brother is already on your trail and it won’t be long until he tracks you down.” Maven stares at his hands, strangely angry. “Soon staying one step ahead won’t be enough. It won’t even be possible.”

Farley’s eyes glimmer in the light as she surveys us both, thinking. Kilorn is content to draw circles in dust, seemingly unmoved. I fight the urge to kick him under the table to make him pay attention.

“I couldn’t care less about my own safety, Prince,” Farley says. “It’s the people in the villages, the workers and the soldiers, who I care about. They’re the ones being punished right now, and harshly.”