“That’s it,” Cal says again, looking over his shoulder. His eyes find mine, and a thread of tension releases between us. “That’s it.”

I don’t hold his gaze long. I have to look at Cameron, at her fear. She squeezes her eyes shut and furrows her brow in concentration. A single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek, and her hands massage the tattoo at her neck. She is only fifteen. She doesn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t have to be so afraid of herself.

“I’m all right,” I force out, and her eyes snap open.

Before she slams shut the walls to her heart, relief flashes across her face. It doesn’t last long. “This doesn’t change how I feel, Barrow.”

If I could stand, I would. But my muscles still tremble with weakness. “You want to do this to someone else? To your brother when you find him?”

There it is. The bargain we must make. She knows it too.

“You get us into Corros, and we’ll make sure you know how to use your ability. We’ll make you the deadliest person in the world.”

I fear I will regret those words.

TWENTY-THREE

My voice echoes strangely in the wide entrance chamber of the safe house. The storm from the Rift has caught up with us, and a heavy mix of snow and freezing rain howls on the other side of the dirt wall. Cold comes with it, but Cal does his best to chase it away. The inhabitants of the Notch huddle together, trying to warm themselves over the campfire he kindled on the floor. Every eye catches the firelight, becoming too many red and orange jewels. They flicker with every twist of flame, always staring at me. Fifteen pairs in all. In addition to Cameron, Cal, Farley, and my brother, the adults of the Notch have come to hear what I have to say. Sitting next to Ada are Ketha, Harrick, and Nix. Fletcher, a skin healer immune to pain, extends his pale hands too close to the fire. Gareth pulls him back before his skin can burn. There’s also Darmian, invulnerable as Nix, and Lory from the rocky islands of Kentosport. Even Kilorn graces us with his presence, sitting firmly between his hunting partners, Crance and Farrah.

Thankfully there are no children present. They will have no part in this, and continue on in whatever safety I can give. Nanny keeps them in their room, amusing them with her transformations, while anyone over sixteen listens to me explain everything we learned on the way to Pitarus. They sit in rapt attention, faces pulled in shock or fear or determination.

“Jon said four days would be too long. So we must do it in three.”

Three days to storm a prison, three days to plan. I had more than a month of hard training with the Silvers, and years before that on the streets of the Stilts. Cal is a soldier from birth, Shade spent more than a year in the army, and Farley is a captain in her own right, though she has no abilities of her own. But the others? As I look on the collected strength of the Notch, my resolve wavers. If only we had more time. Ada, Gareth, and Nix are our best chances, having abilities best suited to a raid, not to mention the most time training at the Notch. The others are powerful—Ketha can obliterate an object with the blink of an eye—but woefully inexperienced. They’ve been here for a few days or weeks at most, coming from gutters and forgotten villages where they were nothing and no one. Sending them to fight will be like putting a child behind the wheel of a transport. They’ll be a danger to everyone, especially themselves.

Everyone knows it’s foolish, an impossibility, but no one says so. Even Cameron has the good sense to keep her mouth shut. She glares into the fire, refusing to look up. I can’t watch her for long. She makes me too angry, and too sad. She’s exactly what I was trying to avoid.

Farley finds her voice first. “Even if that Jon character spoke true about his abilities, there’s no proof what he told us isn’t a lie.” She leans forward, cutting a sharp silhouette against the pit of fire. “He could be an agent of Maven’s. He said Elara was going to start controlling newbloods—what if she was controlling him? Using him to lure us? He said Maven would set a trap. Maybe this is it?”

With a sinking feeling, I see a few nod along with her. Crance, Farrah, and Fletcher. I expect Kilorn to side with his hunting crew, but he keeps still and silent. Like Cameron, he won’t look at me.

Warmth breaks against me on all sides. From the fire ahead, and Cal behind, leaning against the dirt wall. He radiates like a furnace, but is quiet as the grave. He knows better than to speak. Many here tolerate him only because of me, or the children, or both. I cannot rely on him to win soldiers. I must do that myself.

“I believe him.” The words feel so foreign in my mouth, but they are stone solid. These people insist on treating me like a leader, so I will act like one. And I’ll convince them to follow. “I’m going to Corros, trap or not. The newbloods there face two fates—to die, or be used by the puppeteer everyone calls the queen. Both are unacceptable.”

Murmurs of agreement roll through the ones I’m trying to win over. Gareth leads them, bobbing his head in a show of loyalty. He saw Jon with his own eyes, and needs no more convincing than I do.

“I won’t make anyone go. Like before, you all have a choice in this.” Cameron shakes her head slightly, but says nothing. Shade keeps close to her, always within arm’s reach, in case she decides to do something else stupid. “It will not be easy, but it is not impossible.”

If I say it enough, I might start to believe it myself.

“How’s that?” Crance pipes up. “If I heard you right, that prison was built to keep people like you shut up. It’s not just bars and locked doors you’ll have to get through. There’ll be eyes at every gate, a fleet of Silver officers, an armory, cameras, Silent Stone, and that’s only if you’re lucky, lightning girl.”

Next to him, Fletcher swallows thickly. He might not be able to feel pain, but the pale, fleshy man can certainly feel fear. “And what if you’re not?”

“Ask her.” I tip my head toward Cameron. “She escaped.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd as if they were the surface of a pond. Now I’m not the one they’re staring at, and it feels good to relax a little. In contrast, Cameron tightens, her long limbs seeming to fold inward, shielding her from their many eyes.

Even Kilorn looks up, but not at Cameron. His gaze trails past her, finding me as I lean back against the wall. And all my relief washes away, replaced by a twist of some emotion I can’t place. Not fear, not anger. No, this is something else. Longing. In the shifting firelight, with the storm outside, I can pretend we’re a boy and girl huddled beneath a stilt house, seeking refuge from autumn’s howl. Would that someone could control the span of time, and bring me back to those days. I would hold on to them jealously, instead of whining about the cold and hunger. Now I’m just as cold, just as hungry, but no blanket can warm me, no food can sate me. Nothing will ever be the same. It’s my own fault. And Kilorn followed me into this nightmare.

“Does she speak?” Crance sneers when he gets tired of waiting for Cameron to open her mouth.

Farley chuckles. “Too much for my taste. Go on, Cole, tell us everything you remember.”

I expect Cameron to snap again, maybe even bite Farley on the nose, but an audience calms her temper. She sees my trick, but that doesn’t stop it from working. There are too many hopeful eyes, too many willing to step in harm’s way. She can’t ignore them now.