An Ember in the Ashes (Ember Quartet #1)(126)

He’ll understand. I know he will. If not, Izzi will explain it to him. I smile. Even if none of the rest of my plan works, this wasn’t all for nothing. I got Izzi out. I saved my friend.

The Commandant reads out the charges against Veturius. I bend down, my hand hovering over the candles. This is it.

“The timing,” Cook said last night, “has to be perfect. When the Commandant begins reading the charges, watch the clock tower. Don’t take your eyes off it. No matter what happens, you have to wait for the signal. When you see it, move. Not a moment sooner. Not a moment later.”

When she gave me the order, it seemed like it would be easy enough to follow. But now the seconds are ticking away, the Commandant is droning on, and I’m getting antsy. I stare at the clock tower through a slim crack in the base of the dais, trying not to blink. What if one of the legionnaires catches Cook? What if she doesn’t remember the formula? What if she makes a mistake? What if I make a mistake?

Then I see it. A flicker of light skittering across the clock face quicker than a hummingbird’s wings. I grab a candle and light the fuse at the back of the stage.

It catches immediately and begins burning with more fury and sound than I expect. The Masks will see. They’ll hear.

But no one moves. No one looks. And I remember something else Cook said.

Don’t forget to take cover. Unless you want your head blown off. I scurry to the end of the stage farthest from the fuse and crouch, covering my neck and head with my arms and hands, waiting. Everything hinges on this. If Cook remembers the formula wrong, if she doesn’t get to her fuses on time, if my fuse is discovered or put out, it’s all over. There is no backup plan.

Above me, the stage creaks. The fuse hisses as it burns.

And then.

BOOM. The stage explodes. Chunks of wood and scrap geyser into the air. A deeper boom rumbles and another and another. The courtyard is suddenly fogged with clouds of dust. The explosions are nowhere and everywhere, ripping through the air like a thousand screams, leaving me momentarily deaf.

They have to be harmless, I told Cook a dozen times. Meant to distract and confuse. Strong enough to knock people down, but not strong enough to kill. I don’t want anyone dead because of me.

Leave it to me, she said. I’ve no wish to murder children.

I peer out from under the stage, but it’s difficult to see through the dust. It seems as if the walls of the belltower have burst out, though in truth, the dust is from more than two hundred bags of sand Izzi and I spent all night filling and ferrying to the courtyard. Cook set each one with a charge and connected them together. The result is spectacular.

Behind me, the entire back of the stage is gone, the Masks beyond it unconscious on the ground, including the one who murdered my family. The legionnaires are in a panic, running, shouting, trying to escape. The students drain out of the courtyard, the older ones half dragging, half carrying the Yearlings. Deeper booms echo from further away. The mess hall, a few classrooms—all abandoned at this time and likely collapsing at this very moment. A gleeful grin spreads across my face. Cook hasn’t forgotten a thing.

The drums beat in a frenetic tattoo, and I don’t have to understand their strange language to know that it’s a breach alarm. Blackcliff is pure havoc, worse than I could have imagined. More than I could have hoped for. It’s perfect.

I do not doubt. I do not hesitate. I am the Lioness’s daughter, and I have the Lioness’s strength.

“I’m coming for you, Darin,” I say to the wind, hoping it will carry my message. “You stay alive. I’m coming, and nothing’s going to stop me.”

Then I swing out from my hiding place and hop onto the execution stage. It’s time to free Elias Veturius.





L: Elias


Is this what happens to everyone when they die? One second, you’re alive, the next, you’re dead, and then BOOM, an explosion that tears apart the very air. A violent welcome to the afterlife, but at least there is one.

Screams fill my ears. I open my eyes and find that I’m not, in fact, lying on a fair netherworld plain. Instead, I’m flat on my back beneath the very same platform where I was supposed to have died. Smoke and dust choke the air. I touch my neck, which stings something fierce. My hands come away dark with blood. Does this mean I’ll have a severed head in the afterlife, I wonder stupidly. Seems a bit unfair . . .

A pair of familiar gold eyes appears above my face.

“You’re here too?” I ask. “I thought Scholars had a different afterlife.”

“You’re not dead. Not yet, anyway. And neither am I. I’m setting you free. Here, sit up.”

She puts her arms under me and helps me up. We’re beneath the execution dais; she must have dragged me here. The entire back of the stage is gone, and through the dust, I can barely make out the prone forms of four Masks. As I take in what I see, I understand, slowly, that I’m still alive. There’s been an explosion. Multiple explosions. The courtyard is in chaos.

“Did the Resistance attack?”

“I attacked,” Laia says. “The Augurs tricked everyone into thinking I died yesterday. I’ll explain later. What’s important is that I’m setting you free—for a price.”

“What price?” I feel steel against my neck and glance down. She is holding the knife I gave her to my throat. She pulls two pins from her hair, keeping them just out of reach.