Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(57)

Killian had raged, unable to forgive him.

Everyone has scars. “How well do you know Killian?”

“I knew of him, but I never spent time with him. Archer and I had different mothers, and we weren’t raised together.”

I’m confused. “If you weren’t raised with Archer, why did you follow him to Troika?”

“Before I reached the Age of Accountability, I’d finished my training to become a Messenger. Every time I was sent to the Land of the Harvest, Archer found me and told me of the happiness he enjoyed in the Light.”

A small smile blooms. Archer had talk—talk—talked about happiness with me, too.

I enter a second sitting room, where multiple weapons are on display. A long, golden staff practically begs for my attention.

“May I?” I motion to the staff.

Victor is watching me with a curious expression. “Out of all the guns, daggers, chains and swords, that’s the weapon you pick? Did you not see the wristband over there? It controls the four elements in the Land of the Harvest.”

“Neat.” I make grabby hands at the staff. “Gimme.”

He barks out a laugh. “Fine. Go for it.”

I tremble as I lift the staff, certain I’m holding something precious. I wrap my fingers around two distinct indentations—perfectly spaced handholds—and lift. It’s solid, heavy, and all too soon my biceps protest.

Upon closer inspection, I find a crack in the center of the staff, too precise to be an accident. With a frown, I tug the two sides in opposite directions. The crack widens, revealing two separate swords made of...opaque glass? Precious gemstones?

The dark sheen glistens with different colors, but inside one, there are three Troikan symbols and inside the other, there are seven.

3 + 7 = 10

“It’s yours,” Victor says. “Levi told me to tell you to pick a weapon, any weapon. Archer had planned to give you one as a welcome home gift.”

Tears well in my eyes. Uh, oh. Here come the waterworks. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

I don’t know why or when accepting gifts of great monetary value became taboo among humans, but there’s no way I’m rejecting this one. I say, “Thank you.” I will cherish this gift, and I will learn to use it. I will make Archer proud. When he returns—and he will, I’ll accept nothing less—I’ll show him how good I’ve become by knocking him on his butt...in the grass...because I’m a mean little lass...who’s taking her opponent to class...because she’s all about sass.

One of the tears escapes, gliding down my cheek.

A high-pitched alarm suddenly screeches to life inside my head. I nearly jump out of my skin. I do drop the staff in order to clutch my ears, my heart hammering. “Something’s wrong.”

Victor pales. “The alarm. Do you hear the message coming through the Grid? TLs and MLs are engaged in combat in the Land of the Harvest. We’re losing, and more soldiers are needed. Location...near the home of Javier Diez.” He pauses to rub his temple. “Only our group is to know Javier has been infected with Penumbra, like Dior, and there’s a chance he’s already spread it to someone else.”

No, no, no. After all our precautions...

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

“We don’t have a moment to waste.” Victor heads for the door. “Let’s go!”





chapter thirteen



* * *



“Fate says: when a door closes, you’re not meant to go in. We say: kick down the door.”

—Troika

Messengers and Laborers sprint down the streets, Victor and I among them, and every single one of us is barreling toward the nearest Gate. Shells and spirits alike are armed for battle. I even spot two Generals. Tall, thin Jane and the dark, bald Spike. Those in noncombative positions—Headhunters and Healers—watch us with trepidation.

Fueled by adrenaline, I clutch my new staff to my chest. When one of the ends accidentally knocks someone to the ground, I yank the sides apart, content to have a sword in each hand.

Levi is posted at the Veil of Wings, shouting words of encouragement as TLs and TMs race through.

Without a pause in his step, Victor vanishes through the waterfall. I’m right on his heels, determined to do my part and—

A hand shackles my wrist, wrenching me to the side, out of the way, before I can follow.

Levi is ashen. “Only you and the princess are equipped to deal with this threat, but we can’t risk both our Conduits at the same time. We also can’t allow the darkness to spread to any other humans. Even though you’re not ready for this fight, we need you down there. But I’m not going to force you. The choice is yours.”

“This is my next mission,” I say. “My will is yours.”

“And I’m commanding you to choose.”

Sometimes war is the only path to peace.

The words play on a loop in the back of my mind. War is never a good thing, but as history has proved, it can be a necessary thing. When one group tries to harm another, it is inevitable, and the only way to prevent something worse from happening.

War is never pretty. It is bloody and brutal and violent. People die. Innocents die. We, the soldiers—we must do what we think is right.

“I’ll fight.” I can’t allow darkness to snuff out Light. I won’t.