Glass Sword (Red Queen #2)(13)

When she smiles, her scar strains against its stitches, threatening to split open again. Her grin widens. She doesn’t mind the pain.

But I certainly do. I suppose I always will.





FOU R


Farley’s not as tall as Kilorn, but her steps are faster, more deliberate, and harder to keep up with. I do my best, almost jogging to match her pace through the mersive corridor. Like before, the Guardsmen jump out of our way, but now they salute her as we pass, clasping hands to their chest or fingers to their brow. I must say Farley cuts an impressive figure, wearing her scars and wounds like jewels. She doesn’t seem to mind the blood on her shift, absently wiping her hands against it. Some of it belongs to Shade. She dug the bullet out of his shoulder without blinking.

“We didn’t lock him up, if that’s what you think,” she says lightly, as if talk of imprisoning Cal is casual gossip.

I’m not stupid enough to rise to that bait, not now. She’s feeling me out, testing my reaction, my al egiance. But I’m no longer the girl who begged for her help. I’m not so easily read anymore. I’ve lived on a razor wire, balancing lie after lie, hiding myself. It’s nothing to do the same now and bury my thoughts deep down.

So I laugh instead, pasting on the smile I perfected in Elara’s court.

“I can tell. Nothing’s been melted,” I reply, gesturing to the metal walls.

I read her as she tries to read me. She masks her expression well, but surprise still flickers in her eyes. Surprise and curiosity.

I haven’t forgotten the way she treated Cal on the train—with shackles, armed guards, and disdain. And he took it like a kicked dog.

After his brother’s betrayal and his father’s murder, he had no fight inside him. I didn’t blame him. But Farley doesn’t know his heart— or his strength—like I do. She doesn’t know how dangerous he really is. Or how dangerous I am, for that matter. Even now, despite my many injuries, I feel power deep inside, calling out to the electricity pulsing through the mersive. I could control it if I wanted. I could shut this whole thing down. I could drown us all. The lethal idea makes me blush, embarrassed by such thoughts. But they are a comfort all the same. I’m the greatest weapon of all on a ship full of warriors, and they don’t seem to know it.

We seem weak because we want to. Shade was talking about the Guard when he said that, explaining their motives. Now I wonder if he wasn’t also trying to convey a message. Like words hidden in a letter long ago.

Cal’s bunk room is at the far end of the mersive, tucked away from the bustle of the rest of the vessel. His door is nearly hidden behind a twist of pipes and empty crates stamped with Archeon, Haven, Corvium, Harbor Bay, Delphie, and even Belleum from Piedmont to the south.

What the crates once held, I can’t say, but the names of the Silver cities send a twinge down my spine. Stolen. Farley notices me staring at the crates, but doesn’t bother to explain. Despite our shaky agreement over what she calls “newbloods,” I still haven’t entered her inner circle of secrets. I suppose Cal has something to do with that.

Whatever powers the ship, a massive generator by the feel of it, rumbles beneath my feet, vibrating into my bones. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. Farley might not have locked Cal up, but she’s certainly not being kind either. Between the noise and the shaking sensation, I wonder if Cal was able to sleep at all.

“I suppose this is the only place you could put him?” I ask, glaring at the cramped corner.

She shrugs, banging a hand on his door. “The prince hasn’t com-plained.”

We don’t wait long, though I’d very much like the time to collect myself. Instead, the wheel lock spins in seconds, clanking round at great speed. The iron hinges grate, screaming, and Cal pulls open the door.

I’m not surprised to see him standing tall, ignoring his own aches.

After a lifetime preparing to be a warrior, he’s used to cuts and bruises.

But the scars within are something he doesn’t know how to hide.

He avoids my gaze, focusing instead on Farley, who doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the prince with a shattered heart. Suddenly my wounds seem a bit easier to bear.

“Captain Farley,” he says, as if she’s disturbed him at dinnertime.

He uses annoyance to mask his pain.

Farley won’t stand for it and tosses her short hair with a sniff. She even reaches to close the door. “Oh, did you not want a visitor? How rude of me.”

I’m quietly glad I didn’t let Kilorn tag along. He’d be even worse to Cal, having hated him since they first met back in the Stilts.

“Farley,” I tell her through gritted teeth. My hand stops the door short. To my delight—and distaste—she flinches away from my touch.

She flushes horribly, embarrassed with herself and her fear. Despite her tough exterior, she’s just like her soldiers. Afraid of the lightning girl.

“I think we’re fine from here.”

Something twitches in her face, a twinge of irritation as much with herself as with me. But she nods, grateful to be out of my presence.

With one last daggered glance at Cal, she turns and disappears back down the corridor. Her barked orders echo for a moment, indecipher-able but strong.

Cal and I stare after her, then at the walls, then at the floor, then at our feet, afraid to look at each other. Afraid to remember the last few days. The last time we watched each other across a doorway, dancing lessons and a stolen kiss followed. That might as well be another life.