Glass Sword (Red Queen #2)(51)
“I catch fish,” he says, forcing a hollow smile. There’s a bitterness in his voice, and we let it fester in our silence.
Nix speaks first, clapping Kilorn on the shoulder. “Crabs,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “Been a crabber all my life.”
A bit of Kilorn’s discomfort recedes, pulling back behind a crooked grin. He turns to watch Cal switch his way across the control panel, making the Blackrun ready for another flight. I feel the jet respond in kind, its energy flowing toward the wing-mounted engines. They start to whir, gaining power with every passing second.
“Looks good,” Cal says, finally punching a hole in the uncomfortable quiet. “Where to next?”
It takes a second to realize he’s asking me. “Oh.” I stumble over the words. “The closest names are in Harbor Bay. Two in the city proper, one in the slums.”
I expect more of a fuss at the prospect of breaking into a walled, Silver city, but Cal only nods. “That won’t be easy,” he warns, his bronze eyes flashing with the panel’s blinking lights.
“I’m so happy you’re here to tell us what we don’t already know,” I reply dryly. “Farley, you think we can do it?”
She nods, and there’s a crack in her usually stoic mask, revealing emotion beneath. Excitement. Her fingers drum on her thigh. I get the sickening sense that she sees part of this as a game. “I’ve got enough friends in the Bay,” she says. “The walls won’t be a problem.”
“Then to the Bay we go,” Cal says. His grim tone is not at all comforting.
Neither is the drop in my stomach as the jet lurches forward, screaming down a mile of hidden runway. This time, when we angle into the sky, I close my eyes tight. Between the comforting thrum of engines and the knowledge that I am not needed, it’s frighteningly easy to fall asleep.
I shift between sleep and waking many times, never truly succumb-ing to the quiet darkness my mind so desperately needs. Something about the jet keeps me suspended, my eyes never opening, but my brain never completely shutting off. I feel like Shade, pretending to be asleep, collecting whispered secrets. But the others are silent and, judging by Nix’s sputtering snores, out like snuffed candles. Only Farley stays awake. I hear her unbuckle and move to Cal’s side, her footsteps almost inaudible over the jet engines. I doze off then, catching a few needed minutes of shallow rest, before her low voice brings me back.
“We’re over the ocean,” she murmurs, sounding confused.
Cal’s neck cracks as he turns, bone on bone. He didn’t hear her coming, too focused on the jet. “Perceptive,” he says after he recovers.
“Why are we over the ocean? The Bay is south, not east—”
“Because we’ve got more than enough juice to circle off the coast, and they need to sleep.” Something like fear taints his voice. Cal hates water. This must be kil ing him.
Her scoff grates low in her throat. “They can sleep where we land.
The next runway is hidden like the last.”
“She won’t. Not with newbloods on the line. She’ll march until she drops, and we can’t let her do that.”
A long pause. He must be staring, convincing her with eyes instead of words. I know firsthand how persuasive his eyes can be.
“And when do you sleep, Cal?”
His voice lowers, not in volume, but mood. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
I want to open my eyes. To tell him to turn around, to make as much haste as he can. We’re wasting time out on the ocean, burning precious seconds that could spell life or death for the newbloods of Norta. But my anger is tempered by exhaustion. And cold. Even next to Cal, a walking furnace, I feel the familiar creep of ice in my flesh.
I don’t know where it comes from, only that it arrives in moments of quiet, when I’m still, when I think. When I remember all I’ve done, and what has been done to me. The ice sits where my heart should be, threatening to split me open. My arms curl around my chest, trying to stop the pain. It works a little, letting warmth back into me. But where the ice melts, it leaves only emptiness. An abyss. And I don’t know how to fill it back up.
But I will heal. I must.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, almost too low to hear. Still enough to keep me from drifting away. But his words aren’t meant for me.
Something jostles my arm. Farley, as she moves closer to hear him.
“For what I did to you. Before. In the Hall of the Sun.” His voice almost breaks—Cal carries ice of his own. The memory of frozen blood, of Farley’s torture in the cells of the palace. She refused to betray her own, and Cal made her scream for it. “I don’t expect you to accept any kind of apology, and you shouldn’t—”
“I accept,” she says, curt but sincere. “I made mistakes that night as well. We all did.”
Even though my eyes are closed, I know she’s looking at me. I can feel her gaze, painted with regret—and resolve.
The bump of wheels against concrete jerks me awake, bouncing me in my seat. I open my eyes, only to squeeze them shut again, turning away from the bright stab of sunlight pouring through the cockpit windows. The others are wide awake, talking quietly, and I look over my shoulder to face them. Even though we’re tearing across the runway, slowing down but still moving, Kilorn lurches to my side. I guess his river legs are good for something, because the motion of the jet doesn’t seem to affect him at all.