“In the best-case scenario, we take over Ilasall in a day. Then, in the following week, we relocate everyone from mine, Damia’s, and Conall’s—” I paused. Conall’s compound wasn’t his anymore. “From the three compounds to the city,” I finished. “Because once Ardaton and Coriattus learn of our revolt, they will likely try to annihilate the remaining compounds. Ilasall has enough space to host our combined numbers, at least temporarily.”
“Two days.” Damia traced the seam of the couch’s fabric. “Forty-eight hours before you leave.” She looked out the two large windows.
Late evening had taken our streets under its wing, but the dusk failed to coerce the wanderers to return inside. With the spring in full bloom, more and more residents preferred to spend their time outside.
“You know Nissa and Dain will be ready to stand against Coriattus and I against Ardaton if needed, and I understand that we’ve been training since birth—we are the children raised for war—but…” Damia rubbed her forearm, the ink of her leader’s tattoo blending with the shade of her skin. “I feel like we’ve already lost the first battle without even stepping into the war zone.”
A chill spread across my back, each silhouette of a bird branded into my skin a dead friend, an acquaintance, or a fighter I had once known.
Yet I couldn’t force myself to bury Conall or Aanya in a swirl of ink on my flesh. That would mean I was never going to see them again. And with the war looming on the horizon…
I just…couldn’t accept the tattoo.
Not yet.
Not until the fight was over.
Damia cleared her throat. “That aside, what’s your approach?” Although the journey from her compound to ours had been merely half a day long, her sunken eyes told of a much longer story. Losing a childhood friend did that to a person.
Except I had pushed it all away for today and the following days. If I allowed myself to feel, I would break. And falling apart was not a luxury I could afford right now.
“War is a game of numbers.” Elbows on the desk, I steepled my fingers. “The best way to win is to find a path of minimum effort and highest return.”
Flipping through the pages of her book, Kali came to a halt at my side. “Which means no one will be left unaccounted for.” She dropped the tome on the desk, the thud similar to a skull being smashed into a wall. “Everyone who’s underage will remain here. The rest will either guard them or join the front lines.”
Eislyn shifted on Eli’s lap. Cradling her belly, she asked, “Only underage?”
Slumped on the floor under a window, Zion ran the knife, which had pierced his sister, over a kitchen knife. “We need all the bodies we can get.” The whetting sounds accompanied his explanation.
With how the military weapons were manufactured, they needed to be sharpened only twice per year, but he could not care less. A flawless blade meant he could conserve his strength when it came to slitting throats.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Eli mumbled, caressing Eislyn’s stomach. Her pregnancy wasn’t showing yet, but withhow petite she was, her belly had to start protruding soon. “Definitely puts me at ease.”
“People will die. Not one or two. Not hundreds.Thousands.” I rolled my shoulder, the old gunshot wound reminding me of the day Zion and I had become witnesses to the demises of our families. “We will hold funeral fires for days. If you are not ready for it, I can mark you down for one of the spots here at the compound. First aid, children’s guard?—”
“No need.” He held up his hand. “I won’t wait on the sidelines.”
“There are no sidelines.” I cracked my knuckles. The air leaving my joints called out the rattle of bullets, which had announced Ilasall’s attack last autumn. “Those who will sit here will lose their friends and family. Everyone will experience war. Front lines, back lines—no difference. There’s no shame in staying back.” My attention snagged on Kali inspecting her book and then on Zion playing with his knife. “Losing people can be more painful than actually dying.”
Eislyn tucked Eli’s blond hair behind his ears. “That’s why I’m coming with you.”
“You’re not.” He pulled her closer to him, despite the roll of her eyes. “You’ll stay here, where it’s safe.”
“Eli.” She squirmed in his hold. “I’mgoing.” Surrendering to his unwavering resolve to shelter her, Eislyn swiped her chocolate bangs away. “We have to take over Ilasall’s hospitals. If their military can’t treat their injured, it will help us to incapacitate their forces.”
Selecting methods which could give you an advantage was a grey area, but in war, good and evil were one and the same. Blood was crimson on either side. Skeletons contained an identical number of bones. Humans ceased being people.
They became soldiers. Handlers of weapons. Tamers of the resistance. Sowers of death.
“You’ll stay close to me.” The jagged scar from Eli’s lip corner to his jaw grew taut as he pressed a kiss to Eislyn’s temple. “The entire time.”
Eislyn patted his chest. “I don’t think you get how this works, but we’ll talk about it later.” Untangling herself from the cage of his limbs, she rose out of his lap. “I have to go. I promised Jace I’d help with the final preparations.”
Her assistant provided invaluable support in the concoction Eislyn was set on creating.
Our plan was straightforward, mostly based on the fact that Ilasall’s water supply was divided. The water allocated to green-banded was filtered, both hot and cold options provided, while the black-banded had to deal with hard water in its cold state. In the city’s eyes, you deserved luxuryonlyif your genitalia functioned in the proper order.
As abhorrent as it was, it wasn’t like I could punch the reasoning into the government’s thick skulls.
