I turn my eyes back to the girl I used to know. “Because,” I sign, “she is a Skyhunter.”
5
TALIN
Red. I’d sensed him.
I’d felt his presence while I soared over Newage. I’d felt the lilt of his emotions seeping through our link as I toured the grounds outside the city walls with the Premier.
I’d tried over and over again to call to him, but he must be too far away for me to speak to him. Still, I’d watched the grounds with my emotions pulled tight, my gaze sweeping for any sign of him even as I monitored the train tracks. Even as we returned to the National Hall that night, Red’s familiar pull lingered in the back of my mind, haunting me.
He is here. He ishere.
If Constantine can tell that something has shaken my feelings tonight, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he walks beside me at a slower pace than earlier in the day. Even though he’d looked every inch the Premier at the arena, he finally falters as we head back into the city late in the night. I feel his weight lean slightly against me, then his voice coming through our link.
Talin.
Sir.
Hold out your arm to me.
I sense the slight fog of his emotions, the numbness of his mind as his aches plague him tonight. Even though everything in me wants to kill him, plunge one of my weapons into his chest and end his life, I instead hold out my arm and let him take it, feel his hand tremble against my armguard as he uses my strength to keep himself steady.
I hate the way he turns his weakness into a weapon against me, forcing me to help him in his moments of need, as if he isn’t the tyrant of the Federation. A person who has the power to destroy every life around him. But I swallow my anger and assist him. As I do, I repeat to myself the silent promise I always make.
Someday, his illness will kill him. If it doesn’t, I vow that I will.
For now, the Premier has turned our former Speaker’s chambers in the National Hall into his personal rooms. It’s a vast space surrounded by windows layered several panels thick, engineered to stop bullets from shattering them all the way through. There used to be Maran banners hanging on either side of the door, so I heard, but they’ve been replaced with maps of the entire Karensa territory.
Tonight, as I wait for Constantine to settle into bed, I stare at the maps. The Federation’s land runs red on the paper, the color bleeding across an entire continent from ocean to ocean. Once, a long time ago, it covered only the northeastern part of this land. Then it leaked into Tanapeg and Hover, Kente and Larc. Basea. My eyes travel from the coast of the eastern sea across the continent to the west, across former nation after bloodied former nation, sweeping north until I finally reach Mara, newly scarlet.
A lump sits heavy in my throat. For months, I’d witnessed teams dismantling parts of this city. A small but beautiful ruin in the centerof Newage, the Waterfall, was removed piece by piece, its bones groaning as workers toppled it sideways. I’d watched, numb. When I was first accepted into the Striker recruits and paired with Corian, I’d gone to the Waterfall to give my own thanks. Mara doesn’t believe in gods, but we have always held up the Early Ones with a degree of supernatural awe. So I used to kneel there and wish for good fortune to guide me in the Strikers, to make it as a recruit, and to support my mother in the Outer City. I can still remember the cool breeze filtering between the structure’s gaps, the cold ground seeping through the fabric against my knees.
All that’s left is a field of churned dirt and mud and grass. The Waterfall is now sitting on the train to be taken back to Cardinia. Another trophy for their collection.
They’d taken the lintel from the Striker arena’s front entrance too, the most obvious symbol of Newage, along with two columns from the gate of Newage’s outer wall. Mara is like all these other bleeding territories, another spoil of Constantine’s war. These relics of our nation will be installed in the Federation’s capital for all to admire.
My mind is pulled from my grief by the twinge in my link that I’d felt earlier in the day. Red had been out there, the tug between us unmistakable. Where is he? Is he with other Strikers? I swallow, trying to still my mind so the Premier doesn’t sense the emotions that the thought awakens in me. My eyes stay on the scarlet staining the entire map.
How long before our paths will be forced to cross? If he’s close enough for me to sense through our weakened bond, then our reunion will be sooner than I’d like. And then what will happen?
“Talin.”
At Constantine’s command, I turn and walk toward his bedside. A servant is massaging his knees, while Mayor Elland of Cardinia is seated beside the head of the bed, still writing down some notes into her notebook. She peers up at me as I arrive.
“Ah!” she says, looking at Constantine. “Your Skyhunter.”
Her silks drape easily against her, and her hair is silver-gray, but it’s thick and luscious, piled high on her head in a series of curls. When I bow my head to her, I hear her snort. “Barely a Karensan citizen for a year, and already lowering your head to any Cardinian you meet. Eh?” When I look up again, she smirks and looks back at the Premier. Unlike the others, there’s no hint of fear in her face. Nothing about my Skyhunter status seems to intimidate her.
“She knows her place,” Constantine replies as he accepts a bowl of medicinal soup from his food tester. It’s a recipe from the Chief Architect herself, designed to clear his head and soothe his muscles.
“I should hope so.” Mayor Elland considers me before closing her notebook and standing up. She bows her head to Constantine. “I’ll make sure our facilities are ready for you, sir,” she says. “Everyone will want a look at those artifacts.” She winks at the Premier. “Maybe they’ll steal the thunder of your arrival.”
I watch her go before turning back to the Premier. Through our link, I can sense the lingering ache in him. Only I really know what kind of pain lances through him on a daily basis. It is his illness that has consumed him in recent years, an ailment that eats away at his strength and leaves him unable to sleep well at night.
As I watch him lying in bed, a deep weariness comes through our link. The day’s activities have exhausted him, and he will need a good night’s rest before we board the train tomorrow to head back to Cardinia.
As his servants close the door and leave us alone, Constantine nods toward the maps. “You’re imagining the world before us,” he says in Maran. “The Federation.”
