Secondborn (Secondborn #1)(68)

“I know—that’s why I pulled your closest friends, too.”

“So what’s the good part?”

“That was the good part, Hawthorne.”

He sighs. “What’s the bad part, then?”

“Clifton knows how to hurt me now—he can hurt you and that will hurt me. It was a risk. I don’t know if I should’ve taken it. I can’t see his next move yet.”

“You’re worried about what he can do to me? Aren’t you afraid they’ll get to you?”

“I don’t know who they are. Until I do, I’m vulnerable. You have to know that if you intend to be anywhere near me. I just made your life extremely complicated and incredibly dangerous.”





Chapter 16


Where They Bury Me


ONE YEAR LATER

Risk-taking is becoming more and more a part of my DNA. I see it in every secondborn Sword. We’re adrenaline junkies, living for the highs because the lows are so low. Too low. Most of us don’t expect to make it past the next birthday. The average life expectancy of a Sword during wartime is a year and six months. If that’s the case, I only have a few months left to live. My friends are all past due.

I’ve made it through two tours of active duty, and my third is fast approaching. Trained in combat rescue aviation, I’m now able to fly all types of airships. At first, my job was dangerous, but nothing compared to what a normal soldier faces on the ground. Clifton made sure of that. Mostly, I’ve been relegated to resupply runs that don’t require me to be near the front line. The same can’t be said for my friends. Hawthorne, Gilad, and Edgerton fly rescue missions that often require them to pass into enemy territory.

Toward the end of my last tour, though, everything changed. My missions became increasingly harrowing. It alarmed Hawthorne, but Exo Salloway might have been the most furious. He quickly amended the situation, pulling me from duty and ordering me back to inactive status a few weeks before my tour was officially over. Ever since, I’ve done nothing but work for him as a spokesperson for Salloway Munitions Conglomerate. But my most recent briefing in our Stone Forest Base command center indicated that when I go active again, I’ll be on point for more combat missions. It has changed my outlook. I’m growing increasingly reckless—finding it difficult to hide my all-encompassing relationship with Hawthorne.

That’s not all that’s different. The night terrors sometimes follow me around during the day as well. I try to hide my shaking hands when I’m struck with a bout of crippling anxiety. We all do. The only thing that keeps my mind off it all is my illegal boyfriend. When I’m with him, nothing can touch me.

“Do you think he knows?” I ask Hammon again. “He was acting like he knew something was up when I contacted him this morning. Do you think Gilad told him?”

“Gilad would never tell Hawthorne about your surprise,” Hammon replies. She sticks her head out from under the bottom of my Anthroscope airship and holds out her hand. “Air-wrench.” The noise in the hangar is irritating. I can barely hear myself think as airships land and power down. Our Stone Forest Tree is especially busy today because several air-barracks are returning from active duty. A new rotation will deploy in a few days.

“Do you see a problem?” I shout. “I think I have to recheck the weld on the magnetizer.”

She shakes her head. “It’s just a flap rotor. I can adjust it.” She slides back under the aircraft.

Clifton has loaned me the sleek-bodied Anthroscope for my commute between the Base and his warehouses, laboratories, and testing facilities. I try to take care of its mechanical problems myself because this isn’t a Base ship. The airship is hardly military. It looks like a firstborn’s ultimate sports-airship fantasy. It has a cockpit control room with two seats and a little apartment in the back where I can change.

Hammon slides back out from under the airship and hands me the tool. I place it in her toolbox. “Done,” she says. “When are you headed out next?”

“I’m scheduled to be in the Fate of Diamonds in two days to film an ad campaign for the new Salloway fusionmag. It’s the one with the hydrogen-powered magazine option. They’re calling it the Culprit-44.”

“That’s exciting! The glamorous life of the ‘Face of Salloway Munitions’ never ends,” she says with a grin.

I make an ugly face. “Technically, I’m a Weapons Liaison between the Fate of Swords and the Salloway Munitions Conglomerate. Which means that, like you, I’m a secondborn Sword owned by the Fate of Swords. Only now, Clifton is my commanding officer.”

“I know, but having Clifton Salloway as your CO is extremely different than having Commander Aslanbek. I don’t get to leave the Tree or the Forest Base and fly around the Fates consulting on weapon designs, or have dinners with important Salloway clients.”

“Some of those clients have wandering hands,” I reply dryly. “I sometimes have to threaten to break a finger or two.”

“Yes, but he takes care of you.”

“My relationship with Clifton is complicated. He’s my boss . . .”

“And he’s hot for you.”

“He’s just used to having any woman he wants, and I keep saying no.”

“The thrill of the hunt.” She gives me a coy look and wipes some smudge off the side of the gorgeous airship.