At that, Cameron cracks a brittle smile. “Seems Silvers are no longer stupid enough to leave command of every cell and gate to a handful of metal manipulators. There’s a key switch, to open the doors in case you don’t have a magnetron around—or to shut them with stone sliders, if one decides not to play nice.”
This is my doing, I realize. I used Lucas against the cells in the Hall of the Sun. Maven is taking steps to make sure another can’t do the same.
Cal cuts a glance at me, thinking exactly the same thing. “And you have the key?”
She shakes her head, gesturing instead to her neck. The tattoo there is black, darker even than her skin. It marks her as a techie, a slave to the factories and smoke. “I’m a mechanic.” She waggles her crooked fingers. “Switches got gears and wires. Only an idiot needs a key to get those working right.”
Cameron might be a pain, but she’s certainly useful. Even I have to admit that.
“I was conscripted, even though we had jobs in New Town,” she continues, dropping her tone.
“The prison, Cameron,” I tell her. “We have to focus—”
“Everyone works there, and it used to be we couldn’t join the army, even if we wanted.” She speaks over me, her voice stronger and louder. To compete would devolve into a shouting match. “The Measures changed that. There was a lottery. One in twenty, for everyone between fifteen and seventeen. My brother and I were both chosen. Long odds, right?”
“Less than a three percent chance,” Ada whispers.
“They separated us, me to the Beacon Legion out of Fort Patriot, and Morrey to the Dagger Legion. That’s what they did with anyone who made trouble, who even looked at an officer wrong. The Dagger Legion is a death sentence, you know. Five thousand kids who had the spine to fight, and they’re going to end up in a mass grave.”
My teeth grate together. The memory of the military orders burns sharp and bright in my mind.
“It’s a death march after they leave Corvium, a slaughter. Right through the trenches and into the heart of the Choke. They sent Morrey there because he tried to hug our mother one last time.”
My tenuous hold on command strains. I see it in every face, as my newbloods digest Cameron’s words. Ada is worst of all. She stares at me, never blinking. It’s not a harsh look, but a blank one. She’s doing her best to keep judgment from clouding her eyes, but it’s not working. The fire rages in the center of the floor, turning the whites of her eyes gold and red and glaring.
“There are newbloods in that prison, and Silvers too.” Cameron knows she has them in her hand, and tightens her grip. “But there are five thousand children, five thousand Red boys and girls, about to disappear forever. Do you let them die? Do you follow her”—she tosses her head in my direction—“and her pet prince?”
Cal’s fingers twitch too close to mine and I pull away. Not here. They all know we share a bedchamber, and who knows what else they assume. But I will not give Cameron any more ammunition than what she already has.
“She says you have a choice, but she doesn’t know the meaning of the word. I was taken here, just like the legionnaire took me, like the Sentinels took me a few days later. The lightning girl does not give people choices.”
She expects me to fight the accusation, but I hold my tongue. It feels like defeat, and she knows it well. Behind her eyes, the gears have already begun to turn. She hurt me before, and she can do it again. So why does she stay? She could silence us and march out of here. Why stay?
“Mare saves people.”
Kilorn’s voice sounds different, older. The longing ache in my chest returns.
“Mare saved every one of you from prison or death. She risked herself every time she walked into your cities. She’s not perfect, but she’s not a monster, not by any measure. Trust me,” he adds, still refusing to look at me. “I have seen monsters. And so will you, if we leave newbloods to the mercy of the queen. Then she’ll make you kill each other, until there’s nothing left of what you are, and no one alive to remember what you were.”
Mercy, I almost scoff. Elara has none.
I don’t expect Kilorn’s words to have much weight, but I’m dead wrong. The rest look on him with respect and attention. It’s not the same way they look at me. No, their eyes are always tinged with fear. I’m a general to them, a leader, but Kilorn is their brother. They love him like they never could Cal or even me. They listen.
And just like that, Cameron’s victory is snatched away.
“We’ll turn that prison into dust,” Nix rumbles, putting a hand on Kilorn’s shoulder. His grip is too tight, but Kilorn doesn’t flinch. “I’ll go.”
“And me.”
“And me.”
“Me too.”
The voices echo in my head. More than I could have hoped for volunteer. There’s Gareth, Nix, Ada, the explosive Ketha, the other invulnerable wrecker Darmian, Lory with her superior senses, and, of course, Nanny has already pledged to come along. The silent ones, Crance, Farrah, Fletcher, and the illusionist Harrick, fidget in their seats.
“Good.” I step forward again, fixing them all with the strongest look I can muster. “We’ll need the rest of you here, to keep the kids from burning the forest down. And to protect them, if something happens.”
Something. Another raid, an all-out attack, what could become a slaughter of the ones I’ve tried so hard to save. But staying behind is less dangerous than going to Corros, and they exhale sighs of quiet relief. Cameron watches them relax, her face twisted in envy. She would stay with them if she could, but then who would train her? Who would teach her how to control her abilities—and use them? Not Cal, and certainly not me. She doesn’t like the price, but she’ll pay it.