“Mare.” Cal waits patiently, leaning against the seat of the cycle, but his voice is firm, a warning.

“I have to go.” I try to push past Kilorn, to leave him behind, but he won’t let me. He’s always been stronger than me. And as much as I want to let him hold on to me, it just can’t be.

“Mare, please—”

And then a wave of heat pulses against us, like a strong beam of sunlight.

“Let her go,” Cal rumbles, standing over me. The heat rolls off him, almost rippling the air. I can see the calm he fights to maintain thinning, threatening to come undone.

Kilorn scoffs in his face, itching for a fight. But he’s like me; we’re thieves, we’re rats. We know when to fight and when to run. Reluctantly, he pulls back, letting his fingers trail along my arm. This might be the last time we see each other.

The air cools, but Cal doesn’t step back. I’m his brother’s betrothed—he has to be protective of me.

“You bargained for me too, to save me from conscription,” Kilorn says softly, finally understanding the price I’ve paid. “You have a bad habit of trying to save me.”

I can barely nod and I have to pull the helmet onto my head to hide the tears welling in my eyes. Numbly, I follow Cal to the cycle and slide onto the seat behind him.

Kilorn backs away, flinching when the cycle revs up. Then he smirks at me, his features curling into an expression that used to make me want to punch him.

“I’ll tell Farley you said hello.”

The cycle growls like a beast, tearing me away from Kilorn and the Stilts and my old life. Fear curls through me like a poison, until I’m scared from head to toe. But not for myself. Not anymore. I’m scared for Kilorn, for the idiotic thing he’s going to do.

He’s going to find Farley. And he’s going to join her.

FIFTEEN

The next morning, I open my eyes to see a shaded figure standing by my bedside. This is it. I left, I broke the rules, and they’re going to kill me for it.

But not without a fight.

Before the figure gets a chance, I fly out of bed, ready to defend myself. My muscles tense while the delightful buzzing comes to life inside me. But instead of an assassin, I’m staring at a red uniform. And I recognize the woman wearing it.

Walsh looks the same as she did before, though I certainly don’t. She stands next to a metal cart filled with tea and bread and anything else I might want for breakfast. Ever the dutiful servant, she keeps her mouth clamped shut, but her eyes scream at me. She stares at my hand, at the now too-familiar sparks creeping around my fingers. I shake them away, brushing off the veins of light until they disappear back into my skin.

“I’m so sorry,” I exclaim, jumping away from her. Still, she doesn’t speak. “Walsh—”

But she busies herself with the food. Then, to my great surprise, she mouths five words to me. They are words I’m beginning to know like a prayer—or a curse. Rise, Red as the dawn.

Before I can respond, before my shock can register, Walsh presses a cup of tea into my hand.

“Wait—” I reach out for her, but she dodges my hand, sweeping into a low bow.

“My lady,” she says, sharply ending our conversation.

I let her go, watching her back out of the room until there’s nothing left but the echo of her unspoken words.

Walsh is in the Guard too.

The teacup feels cold in my hand. Strangely cold.

I look down to find it’s not full of tea but water. And at the bottom of the cup, a piece of paper bleeds ink. The ink swirls as I read the message, the water leeching it away, erasing any trace, until there’s nothing left but cloudy, gray liquid and a blank curl of paper. No evidence of my first act of rebellion.

The message isn’t hard to remember. It’s only one word.

Midnight.

This knowledge that I have a connection to the group so close by should comfort me, but for some reason, I find myself shivering. Maybe cameras aren’t the only things watching me here.

And it’s not the only note waiting for me. My new schedule sits on the nightstand, written in the queen’s maddeningly perfect handwriting.

Your schedule has changed. 0630—Breakfast / 0700—Training / 1000—Protocol / 1130—Luncheon / 1300—Protocol/ 1400—Lessons / 1800—Dinner. Lucas will escort you to all. Schedule is not negotiable. HRH Queen Elara.

“So, they’ve finally bumped you up to Training?” Lucas grins at me, a rare bit of pride shining through as he leads me to my first session. “Either you’ve been very good or very bad.”