Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(90)

“Hammon, I’m not giving up on Hawthorne. He’s with me . . . I know he is, but not here—not in our world.”

“What does that even mean?” she asks, dashing away tears with her sleeve. “Is he dead?”

“It means we have to help him. I’m going to find a way into their world. I’ll explain it to you on the way to the Fate of Seas.”



Rosie uses a small paintbrush to smear red dollops of pigment on Phoenix’s dull metal veneer. We picked her up from the Sozo One’s daycare facility and brought her to my room. Sitting on the floor next to Hammon, with our backs against my bunk, I pet Rogue intermittently, and Hammon strokes her daughter’s hair as we talk.

“So Hawthorne’s alive in another dimension—inside Spectrum?” Hammon asks me for the fourth time in as many minutes.

“Yes, an alternate universe.”

“I don’t think you’re right about the word you used.”

“Which one?”

“You said you ‘murdered’ Hawthorne in the Sword Palace. You didn’t. He drowned.”

“I might still be able to save him, Hammon.”

“The Hawthorne in the other world?”

“Yes.”

“What about Reykin, then?” she asks. “I love them both, you know? Reykin has done so much for me and Edge—and Rosie. He’s in love with you, Roselle.”

“And I’m in love with Reykin.” I draw my knees up to my chest. “It’s different than what I felt with Hawthorne. I know I can live without Hawthorne. It was hard, losing him when he Transitioned to firstborn, but I did it. Things have never been the same between us since. I wanted it to be, but it just wasn’t. Maybe it could be again—if things were different?” I think of him in another world, a different set of circumstances. “I don’t know. But here, with Reykin, we just fit.” I swallow hard, past the lump in my throat, forcing back tears.

“Like Edge and I fit?” Hammon asks.

I nod.

“This is all so confusing, Roselle. My mind doesn’t know how to deal with it. Even with all the scary things you’ve explained to me, this world is still better than when we met as secondborn soldiers. I never had control of anything then. But I have more freedom now, with Crow ravaging our world, than I did when everything was normal—when they owned us. It’s a sobering thought, isn’t it? But our odds of living through this aren’t good, are they? Even I know that.” She holds Rosie’s little green sweater in her hand, plucking at the soft fabric.

“No, they’re not good odds.” I watch Rosie deface Phoenix with broad strokes, and I wonder what a Winterstrom toddler would look like with aquamarine eyes and a paintbrush in her hand.

“I’ve gotten to be a mother, Roselle. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Tears cloud my eyes. “You’re great at it, Hamm,” I whisper.

“You’re leaving tonight?” she asks, wiping her tears from her cheeks. Trepidation raises the tone of her voice. She tries to hide it by clearing her throat.

“Yes.”

“Do you think that’s . . . wise? It sounds terrifying, Roselle. You’re talking about going to an alternate universe. Maybe there’s another way?”

“I can’t think of another way, not one with a chance of winning. With this plan, we have a sliver of hope.”

“You’ll be alone, though? I mean, they don’t make enough chets for this, do they?” She isn’t kidding.

“I am scared, but my threshold for terror has expanded a bit. Fear that Crow’s growing stronger supersedes my fear of the unknown.”

She wrings her hands. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Roselle. You’re brave like that.”

“I don’t feel brave. I feel backed into a corner with nowhere left to run.” I never intended to be this honest with her. I should spare her this. She doesn’t need to know. I’m not sure why I’m telling her. Maybe it’s because we’ve been this desperate before, and we faced it together.

“When we left the Fate of Swords for Stars,” she says softly, “we only had a loose idea of how we’d survive.”

“It’s the same now,” I agree, “except the scale is a little different. Now it’s all humankind that Crow intends to kill instead of just us.”

“I guess I’ll have to stop taking it so personally,” she jokes.

A smile spreads across my lips. “Yeah, it’s nothing personal.”

Impulsively, Hammon throws her arms around my shoulders and pulls me to her for a fierce hug. Her voice quivers as she says, “You come back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And when you find Hawthorne, will you tell him I miss him?”

“You know I will.”





Chapter 17

The Anchor

Churning waves break against the heavy gray rock of the shoreline.

Rusty steel Trees on the Fate of Seas Base loom like an ancient, dark forest in the last gasps of winter. Moonlight shines off the bygone models of the few air-barracks still swaying in the wind on the monstrous branches above. Corroded metal grates creak. It’s the disguise of a ghost town, but I wonder why they bother to keep up the facade when they believe they’ve won?