should have attacked the Troikans while I had the chance. Instead, I acted the fool and focused on Tenley.
I love you, too.
Her voice echoes in my head, as if a memory has slipped free from the shadows. The words aren’t just a declaration, but also a response—to my declaration? A kernel of unease ghosts through me.
Did I once tell her I loved her, even though I believe love is an illusion?
Always be the first to walk away.
Perhaps I lied to her. I’m rotten to the core and not above such trickery. But why can’t I remember? And why bother to go to so much trouble? The enemy you allow to live today is the one who stabs you in the back tomorrow. I have the scars to prove it.
Kill!
Trust.
A growl vibrates in my chest. The tug-of-war inside my head needs to end. Now!
I close my eyes, searching the Grid for—I go cold. In the back of my mind is a small tendril of Light that is radiating from her... This girl is more dangerous than most.
The Light connects us, forming a bridge between us. Once, a bridge stretched between Myriad and Troika.
We are truly bonded, then. I willingly pledged my Everlife to her, giving her power over me. Why? This makes no sense. And why would one of my targets willingly wed me? Why pretend to love me?
Unless she thought to control me, staying my hand from delivering a killing blow? As the General stated, I can’t hurt her without hurting myself.
The rage returns, redoubles. I will not be controlled!
Killkillkill.
The shadows writhe with new purpose, sharp pains shooting through me...then seeping out of me and trickling onto the bridge that binds me to the girl. Agony contorts her features, the color fading from her skin. If I have damaged her irreparably, I’ll—
Nothing. She’s fine. She must be. Her Light hasn’t damaged me.
Is it possible the bond has made us both Troikan and Myriadian?
—Killian! Remember me. Please.—
A new voice whispers inside my mind. Her voice. Miss Lockwood. Tenley. This isn’t a memory. I know it with every fiber of my being. Somehow she’s speaking inside my head, and every word ignites a new spark of Light.
The shadows writhe faster, lashing at my Grid. Sharp pains stab at my temples.
I attempt to push the question that plagues me most along the Grid, speaking to her as I would a fellow Myriadian. —Did you wed me in order to protect yourself from my wrath?—
Her eyes widen with surprise. —Are you kidding? Protect myself from your wrath? I hate to break it to you, soldier, but I’m more powerful than you are. I wedded you because I love you.—
It worked! She heard me, and responded. The fact that she thinks she’s more powerful than me... I snort. As for her supposed love... I gulp.
Must stop harping on her supposed feelings for me. They do not matter. She does not matter.
Shamus peers at Luciana, clearly trying to mask his feelings for the other General and failing. “All right. We’ll do this your way, Ana.”
She hisses with displeasure. “Call me Ana again. See what happens.”
Mental note: Luciana Rossi has a temper.
Tempers can be exploited.
“What, you’ll start ripping off my clothes? Thanks for the warning.” Shamus vanishes, only to reappear behind me.
I can sense him, though I’m unable to resist as he forces my arms behind my back, then binds my wrists with a band of...fire? Though I strain every muscle in my body, the effects of the Dazer hold strong.
“No,” Luciana says, “I’ll start ripping out your guts.”
Shamus snorts and rips a small vial of ambrosia from my neck and pockets it. “Mr. Flynn’s comm is disabled, and he has no way to heal.” He plants a hard hand on my shoulder, and despite my link to Tenley, a waft of cold seeps past my shirt, not as potent as usual but still noticeable.
Tension emanates from Tenley as she struggles for mobility. Like me, she gets nowhere fast.
Part of me wants to shove her behind me—will protect her with my life.
Fool! The other part of me still wants to kill her. She’s the reason I’m in this sorry state.
Yessssss. Kill her. Kill. Finally!
Trust.
Shut up, both of you. Or me. Whatever! Let me think.
No time. One second we’re in the cave, the next we’re standing on a crystal bridge, a crimson waterfall in front of us. Cool mist billows, rising above walls of layered sediment interspersed with ruby geodes, topaz, jasper and beryl; together the stones create the illusion of multicolored wings.
The infamous Veil of Wings. The only entrance to Troika.
Beads of sweat pop up on my brow. Myriadians have tried to enter the waters before only to burn to death. No one has ever survived.
Unless the Generals lied, my bond to Tenley will protect me.
All of Troika should pray the Generals are wrong. You don’t escort a wolf into a herd of unsuspecting sheep without suffering the consequences.
As Luciana said, I can destroy the realm from the inside out. And I will.
“Rules made by others are chains. Govern yourself.”
—Myriad
Ten
I’m unable to protest, fight, something, anything, as Shamus carries Killian through the Veil of Wings. A desperate need to rush after him—my husband—bombards me, but my Dazer-frozen legs refuse to cooperate.
Can’t let him out of my sight. Inside Troika, he’ll be a target. I will be his only shield.
“Unless you assist us,” General Luciana says, “you won’t see your Myriadian again.”
No. Unacceptable. And yet, her words have the desired effect. Panic sets in, seeming to turn my spine into a block of ice, and my limbs into icicles.
Emotions are fleeting, remember? They are changeable; Luciana was right about that. Just because my mind and body feel a certain way, well, that doesn’t mean I have to let the emotion into my heart, as well.
I focus on
