“It’s not in my nature to walk into something I don’t feel ready for, Tershetta.” His hand lifted, stroking his newly shaved jaw as he stared at the map.
Do you care to weigh in at all?
“What would we say? Don’t die?”
“We could—no, that won’t work,” Altair mumbled to himself.
How about some advice? A suggestion or two? What did you say to all those psychopathic Altairs you haunted?
“None of your business.”
Having the stars is useless.
“How dare you. We hope you die tomorrow.”
Now who’s the liar?
“Do you think we’d have time to steal official uniforms? Maybe we could use those in a bind,” he suggested, still sounding unconvinced.
“Won’t most officials know each other?”
“Yeah, I guess they probably would.”
“I doubt they’re as drunk and useless as normal with everything going on.”
“True. Then maybe we can go to a secure location and just shadow walk the haya to the doors of the sellers?” I opened my mouth to reply, but he beat me to it. “No, that’d risk them being caught. Not that haya is illegal or anything, but clearly this is meant to stay a secret.”
“Did you consider that it’s impossible to avoid the risk?”
“Yes, but I wish we could at least minimize it.”
“We are. Taking shift is going to help us a lot. We can ask Commander Maitoza for some less conspicuous clothing, which I’m sure she’ll have, and then we’ll blend right in. If we keep our heads down, then maybe no one will notice the strangers in town.”
“Or maybe that will be even more odd and they’ll call the officials right away.”
“And what will the officials do? Capture us? How?”
“They could summon elites—cores—my father.”
Grumbling, I sat down in one of the chairs. It wasn’t that he was being annoying, but his sheer lack of optimism was a match for mine, and that was a dangerous combination. “Our plan is as good as it’s going to get. Really, we’ve thought of everything. We aren’t splitting up so we can make a quick escape. We’re scouting the villages to see what amount of officials are being moved into the districts. The batches are only going to four areas and we have the phrase. It’s going to be fine. We’ll be in and out.”
With a defeated puff of air, Altair sat too, his fingers fidgeting with a burner. He’d been much more antsy since we returned from the rebel island. It was beginning to stress me out more than normal.
“Is something else going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is there anything bothering you other than this mission? You can tell me, you know.”
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Neither of us spoke, although I could feel the way we each considered what was weighing on us. Maybe he was struggling with the same doubt I was. The rebellion wasn’t what I was hoping for. Not in the slightest. And I feared that there was really no way to save Dajahim. I thought of the bodies nailed to the doors of the shops. How many more would die at the hands of both General Altair and Commander Maitoza? What life could we all possibly have? Did Altair fear the same things? Was that what had him so uneasy?
Relenting, he reached out his hand, a burst of shadow tendrils leaking from his palm until a crumpled piece of parchment appeared. Nervous, I grabbed it slowly, being careful not to rip it as I spread it out. I read it once, too stunned to fully absorb it. So I went ahead and read it a second time, feeling my teeth grind without meaning to do it.
“Dofrel is going to get himself killed,” I muttered. Why did he insist on being in the middle of this? Why not just play the good little core heir?
I knew why, though. Altair did too. Caleb wasn’t like the others. He didn’t agree with the purism. Or, at the very least, he didn’t like it.
“All of them will,” he whispered, taking back the note.
