Jeran folds the letter and looks around the table. “The Speaker has refused our mission,” he answers quietly.
Red hisses through his teeth at the same time Adena leans forward on the table with a slap of her fists. “What?” she says.
“There must be some miscommunication,” I sign.
Jeran shakes his head. Then he unfolds it again and reads it aloud. “‘Jeran,’” he says, his voice hoarse. “‘The Speaker and the Senate have rejected your mission to take the Skyhunter into Federation territory. They believe we will be handing the most invaluable weapon we’ve ever gained back into the hands of our enemy. They have ordered you and your team grounded within the Striker complex, while Red has been ordered to the labs to be bled in an attempt to inoculate as many soldiers as possible. You have until morning to comply.’” His voice drops to a near whisper. “‘Eyes forward, my Deathdancer. Yours, Aramin.’”
Signed not as the Firstblade, but as his own name. Jeran blinks back tears as his hands tremble against the letter. He doesn’t even seem to care that, in reading this letter aloud, he has all but revealed to us the feelings between himself and the Firstblade.
I curl my hands into fists so tight that my nails threaten to cut through the skin of my palms. The Senate is unwilling. Unable to see. Too afraid to take a chance, even when the solution is right before their eyes. This is the same kind of irrational decision that has kept other refugees from serving in the Striker ranks.
“This is idiocy,” Adena snaps. “The Speaker has sentenced Mara to death. Every child. Every civilian. This country will burn down in flames.” She whirls, holding her hand out to Red. “The potential answer to defeating the entire Federation, sitting right here with us. And the Speaker is going to turn his back!”
“More than that,” I add, and the others turn to me.“They’reessentially arresting us. We’re confined to the Striker complex until further notice.”
“They won’t even let us fight,” Jeran says, pale. “They think we’re going to resist the order and they’re going to keep us from helping on the warfront. They really think Red can survive our labs and then take on the entire Federation army.”
Red narrows his eyes.I will not bleed for your Speaker, he says through our bond.Not like this.
No, you won’t, I reply.
He glances quickly at me as I stand. I point to the Firstblade’s writing on the letter.“Don’t you see?”I sign. My finger underlines his sentences.“You have until morning to comply.”I look up and meet Jeran’s eyes.“The Firstblade cared enough about you to write this,”I sign gently.“What does he mean?”
“Aramin is warning us,” he signs back before running his fingers carefully over the Firstblade’s signature. “He’s risking arrest himself by having this message delivered to us twelve hours early. He’s telling us in the hopes that we’ll escape while we can.”
“Escape? Where?” Adena says before the realization dawns in her eyes. She meets Jeran’s bleak gaze. “You don’t mean—”
The Firstblade is trying to give us a head start to the warfront, buy us a night to travel there and cross into the heart of the Federation before the Senate sends troops to arrest us. But there is more in his message. He knows, in doing this, that his letter may be his final words to Jeran.
Eyes forward, my Deathdancer.He is giving us his blessing and bidding him farewell.
I look at my mother. We exchange a silent, knowing gaze. As a Striker, I have had a hundred moments that might have been the last time we see each other, but this time, I’m not just heading out with mypatrols to face the monsters. This time we are the hunted, by ally and enemy.
Something in my mother’s eyes reminds me of the way she’d looked on the night we’d fled into Mara, that light of panic and desperation. I wait for her to tell me not to go, for me to argue it with her, but it never comes. She doesn’t flinch. She can see that it will do no good, because my mind is already made up.
“We’re going on this mission,”I tell the others.“We are going into the heart of the Federation. But we have to leave now. Tonight. Before they come for us.”
The rest of the table watches in silence as the reality sinks in for each of us. Even Mr. Oyano, who moments earlier had sneered at Red, now says nothing. I know, without speaking, that these Basean refugees will protect us and pretend that we never received such a letter, that they never saw us here tonight.
Finally, Jeran speaks. “To honor Mara, then.”
“Honor is a thankless thing,” Adena mutters. “They’ll hunt us in the morning, like we’re criminals.”
“Sometimes a crime is an act of heroism,” my mother answers quietly. She looks at me as she says it, and I know she is telling me she loves me.
I force my breathing to steady in order to keep my tears from spilling out. Her words ring around the table, silencing us all, and Adena lowers her eyes for a moment at the truth of it. I look at my mother and suddenly wish I hadn’t decided to go, that I didn’t think this was the only way to save us.
Red stands first. The waning fire highlights his towering figure. He nods at me, ready. I’m grateful that at least we’ve come here directly from the training arena, that we are wearing our gear and weapons. Andthat Adena has been carrying a pouch with vials of Red’s blood since our demonstration.
“My shop,” Adena breathes. “They’ll ransack it. My tools. I need them.”
I shake my head. “No time.”
“They’ll send soldiers after us,” Jeran says. “We need to cover most of our ground tonight.”
“I’ll gather as many provisions as I can.”I stand up. The night is not cold, but my hands are trembling. “We need to leave within the hour.”
21
