“Shea!”
She ignores Poppy, pushing past Camellia and shoving out into the fledgling dawn.
Where she slams directly into Oliver Keeling, waiting on the topmost step.
Lys doesn’t react to the impact.
He’s a steel wall, cold and unyielding, his back to her. He’s staring out at something in the street, and it doesn’t take her long to understand what has caught his eye. A barricade of unmarked vans lines the road before them. Outside the vans stands a small arsenal of armed militia, each of them wielding weapons retrofitted with wooden bullets.
Soldiers of the watch, here to collect.
Shea thought she was afraid before. Now her heart stops cold. Because standing at their helm is Egor van Haut. He smiles at the sight of them, tugging loose his glasses to clean the lenses.
“You never asked me.” He says it conversationally, as though they’re still at tea in his living room. “You never asked me why the perimeters of my farm are off-limits. Why I live alone, in the middle of nowhere. You never asked what sort of work I’m doing.”
“I don’t care,” grits out Shea.
“You should,” says Egor, unruffled. “I am on the cusp of a groundbreaking discovery. A cure, Shea. Acure. For Nel. For others like him. The trouble is, I cannot do the work that I do for free. Surely, you understand—I’m told your mother is very ill.”
The door behind Shea opens. Asher emerges, flanked by Poppy and Camellia. He draws up short at the sight of the heavily armed presence.
“Oh shit.”
Egor replaces his glasses. “It’s a very big bounty, Private Thorley.”
“Asher Thorley,” calls a uniformed man standing beside Egor. “You are being apprehended and placed under arrest for abandoning your post. You will be transported back to base, where you will be tried and hanged for desertion.”
“Asher,” whispers Camellia, distraught.
Asher says nothing at all. He stands at attention, his gaze shuttered.
“You have the right to remain silent,” continues the man. “Any statement made may be used as evidence against you in a trial by court-martial.”
Egor smiles wanly at Shea. “I am so close to cracking the genome. You must understand—my motivations are good.”
Shea’s heart flies into her throat. “Asher—”
He doesn’t meet her eyes. “Looks like you’ll get what you wanted.”
“Asher, wait—” Her voice cracks. “Wait.”
There’s no chance for an apology. No space to take back what she said. To undo it and undo it. An order is given and two members of the watch ascend the steps, forcing Asher’s hands behind his back. He’s shoved forward, stumbling as he goes.
Still in the shadow of the cathedral, Camellia makes a strangled sound. “Asher?”
“It’s okay,” he calls back to her. “It’s just a formality. Stick together, all right?”
His head is pressed down, and he’s loaded into the back of the van.
“Wait!” Camellia surges forward. “Please, wait. That’s my brother. Please, I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
The door to the van rattles shut with a slam. On the bottom step, Camellia is met with the jagged end of a wooden bayonet.
“That’s far enough,” someone barks. “One more step, and you’re dust.”
“Easy,” chides Egor. “There’s no need to resort to violence. Especially not on Keeling territory. Surely you can understand why she’s upset.”
The engine kicks over. The van departs, careening around the corner and out of sight. Shea feels like half her heart has gone with it.
