The barracks is as I remember, full of labyrinthine twists and turns. I get lost once or twice, but finally I find the door with the purple scarf tied to the doorknob. It’s firmly shut, and I have to knock.

Bree opens the door. His face is red from crying, and that almost does me in right then and there. “Took you long enough,” he growls, stepping back so I can enter. I flinch at his harsh tone, but don’t retaliate. Instead, I put a hand on his arm. He cringes, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. And then, louder, to the rest of the room, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Gisa and Tramy sit on mismatched chairs. Mom curls up on one of the beds, with Dad and his chair firmly planted next to her. While she turns away, hiding her face in a pillow, he looks straight at me.

“You had things to do,” Dad says. Gruff as always, but more insulting than he’s ever been. I deserve it. “We understand.”

“I should’ve been here.” I move farther into the room. How can I feel lost in such a small space? “I brought his body back.”

“We’ve seen it,” Bree snaps, taking a seat on the bunk opposite Mom. It sags under his enormous weight. “One little blast of a needle, and he’s gone.”

“I remember,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

Gisa twitches in her chair, her thin legs drawn up beneath herself. She flexes her bad hand, distracting herself. “Do you know who killed him?”

“Ptolemus Samos. A magnetron.” Back in the arena, Cal could’ve killed the wretched man. But he was merciful. And his mercy killed my brother.

“I know that name,” Tramy says, just to have something to fill the tense air. “He was one of your executioners. Couldn’t get you, but he got Shade.” It sounds like an accusation. I have to look down, examining my shoes instead of the hurt in his eyes.

“Did you get him back at least?” Bree gets to his feet again, unable to keep still. He towers over me, trying to look intimidating. He forgets that I’m not scared of brute force anymore. “Did you?”

“I killed a lot of people.” My voice breaks, but I soldier on. “I don’t even know how many, I just know the queen was one of them.”

On the bed, Mom pulls up, finally deciding to look at me. Her eyes swim with tears. “The queen?” she whispers, breathless.

“We have her body as well,” I say, almost too eager. Talking about her corpse is easier than grieving for my brother. So I tell them about the broadcast, what we hope to do.

The horrible thing should go out tonight, during the evening news bulletins. They’re mandatory now, an addition to the Measures, forcing every person in the kingdom to eat lies and propaganda with their dinner. A youthful, eager king, another victory in the trenches, and the like, but not tomorrow. Instead, Norta will see their dead queen. And the world will hear our call to arms. Bree paces, grinning madly at the thought of civil war, and Tramy follows, as he always does. They jabber between each other, already dreaming of marching into Archeon together, and planting our red flag on the ruins of Whitefire Palace. Gisa is less enthusiastic.

“I guess you won’t be here for long,” she says, forlorn. “They’ll need you back on the mainland, recruiting again.”

“No, I won’t be recruiting, at least not for a while.”

I can’t stand the hope that sparks in them, especially Mom. I almost don’t tell them at all, but last time I left so suddenly. I won’t do that to them again. “I’m going to the Choke, and soon.”

Dad roars so loudly I expect him to fall out of his wheelchair. “You will not! Not while I still draw breath!” He wheezes to emphasize his point. “No child of mine will ever return to that place. Ever. And don’t you dare tell me I can’t stop you, because believe me, I can and I will.”

Once, the Choke took Dad’s leg and a lung. He gave so much to that place. And now, I guess he thinks he’s going to lose me to it too. “I’m sure you would, Dad.” I try to humor him. That usually works.

But this time he waves me off, wheeling up to me so fast his leg bumps my shin. He glares like a demon, one quivering finger pointed at my face. “Give me your word, Mare Barrow.”

“You know I can’t do that.” And I tell him why. Five thousand children, five thousand sons and daughters. Cameron was right all along. The divisions of blood are still very real, and they can’t be tolerated any longer.

“Let someone else go,” he growls, trying his best not to fall apart. I never wished to see my father cry, and now I wish I could forget the sight. “The Colonel, that prince, someone else can do it.” He clutches my arm like a man at sea.

“Daniel.” Mom’s voice is soft, soothing, a single white cloud in an empty sky. “Let her go.”

When I pry his hand from my wrist, I realize I’m crying too.

“We’ll go with her.”

Bree barely gets the words out before I can tell him no. Dad’s face purples, his sadness giving way to anger. “Do you want me to die of a heart attack?” he snarls, spinning to face my oldest brother.

“She’s never been to the Choke, she doesn’t know what it’s like up there,” Tramy pipes in. “We do. Spent almost a decade between us on the trench lines.”

I shake my head, putting out a hand to stop him before Dad really does lose it. “The Colonel’s coming, he’s seen the Choke too, there’s no need—”

“Maybe from the Lakelander side.” Bree’s already at his trunk, going through his things. Looking for what to bring. “But the Nortan trenches are a different design. He’ll be turned around in seconds.”

It’s probably the smartest thing I’ve ever heard Bree say. He’s not known for his brain, but then again, he survived almost five years on the lines. That’s four years longer than most. It can’t be luck. I realize instead, this is bravery from both of them, more than I can possibly know. Once I thought about how much of my life my older brothers missed—but I’ve done the same. They are not as I remember. They are warriors as much as I am.

My silence is all they need to start packing. I wish I could tell them not to come. They would listen if I truly meant it. But I can’t. I need them, just like I needed Shade.

I only hope I won’t lead another brother into the grave.

After a long moment, I realize I’m shaking. So I climb into bed next to my mother, and I let her hold me for a long while. I do my best not to cry. My best is not enough.

TWENTY-NINE

The mess hall is crowded, but not for a meal. The Colonel put out the call for a “top-priority operation” only an hour ago, and the room bursts with his handpicked men as well as volunteers. The Lakelanders are quiet, well trained, and stoic. The Guardsmen are much rowdier, though Farley is anything but. She’s been reinstated as a captain, but shows no sign of noticing. She sits in silence, absently twisting a red scarf around her hands. When I enter the mess, flanked by my brothers, the noise dies away, and every eye watches me. Except Farley. She doesn’t look up at all. Lory and Darmian actually clap as I walk across the room, making me blush. Ada joins in, and then, to my delight, Nanny stands up next to her, as does Cameron. They made it. I exhale a little, trying to feel relieved. But there’s still no sign of Nix, Gareth, or Ketha. They could have chosen not to come. They must be sick of danger by now. That’s what I tell myself as I sit down next to Farley. Bree and Tramy follow, taking the seats directly behind me, like bodyguards.