Urgh! This pendant! How can anyone possibly breathe with a noose around their neck?
Hawk tears the leather strap from his throat and dangles it from his fingertips, watching how the pendant catches the morning sun and reflects the light onto the sand in colorful rainbows. He can see why a bird might be attracted to it.
How can Luca think he’s naïve to the risks in the Outlands? And how arrogant of him to think he’s the only one capable of finding his way out there. He was the same age as Hawk is now when he first left in search of his mother. If he can survive, then Hawk can, too.
Someone sits down beside him and Hawk sighs, his breath catching in his throat when he sees it’s his aunt. It’s more popular out here this morning than the ballroom on Announcement day.
“Wren,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m scared.” She tucks her knees up to her chest.
Hawk’s brows shoot up. He’s never known his aunt to be scared of anything.
“You’ll look after Mercy, won’t you?” she asks. “Because I’ve made it very clear to her that she needs to look after you.”
Hawk smiles. At last, someone who can see the female Seekers through a clear lens. Hawk might be twice their size but that doesn’t mean he’s twice as capable.
“We’ll look after each other,” he says. “I promise.”
“You have a kind heart.” She reaches for his pendant, not asking why he’s taken it off, and turns it over in her hands. “That’s why I worry about you.”
“Kindness is the foundation of Askala,” he says, repeating what his mother always tells him. “It’s the gift we’ll be bringing to the Outlands.”
“Screw kindness!” Wren clenches her fists around the leather cord. “You need to be strong.”
Hawk’s jaw falls open. He knows his aunt is tough, but he’s never heard her speak like this before.
“You do whatever it takes to survive out there.” She grips his arm. “You lie if you need to. You kill if you must. There’s no room for kindness in the war that’s coming.”
Hawk’s not sure what to say to this new side of Wren. He’s heard stories of how fierce she’d been when she’d arrived in Askala, killing a giant leatherskin singlehandedly before washing up on shore and showing everyone here that size is no indicator of courage.
“There’s no war coming, Wren.” He puts his hand over hers and squeezes it. “This is different. And there’s always room for kindness.”
She shakes her head. “Not always. If it’s a choice between you or them, you must choose yourself. Always. Killing a man is difficult. You can’t hesitate. I did that once and it nearly cost us all our lives. When you line up your shot, you take it. Do you understand?”
Hawk nods, even though he hopes he never understands what she just said.
“This isn’t a game.” She passes him back the pendant. “It never has been. I swear if anyone touches Mercy, I’ll come over there and kill them myself.”
“You won’t need to.” Hawk’s voice is weak, lacking the conviction needed to persuade Wren of something he’s not entirely sure he can promise. He can’t watch Mercy every moment of every day.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Wren shoots to her feet faster than an arrow.
“What?” Hawk stands beside her, following her gaze into the morning sky.
“A raven,” she breathes. “It’s one of my father’s.”
“How can you tell?” He squints at the black bird, which looks exactly like any other raven he’s ever seen.
“Hold out your pendant,” she says, flipping her own out from the neckline of her shirt. “He’s seen us.”
The raven circles for a long while, then swoops down and lands in front of them. It’s then that Hawk sees what’s different about it. There’s a note tied to one of its feet.
Wren crouches down, tugging at the hem of Hawk’s shirt, encouraging him to do the same.
“Who’s the note for?” Hawk asks, his brow furrowing.
“I don’t know.” Wren holds out her palm, rubbing her fingertips with her thumb. “But I’d like to find out.”
The bird hops closer. It’s an impressive size for a raven, with glossy feathers the color of night and a sharp beak that Hawk’s not entirely sure he wants to get too close to.
Wren reaches out and unties the note, tucking it under her arm as she shows the bird her empty hands.
The raven tilts its head in disappointment.
“Sorry,” says Wren. “No crickets today.”
Flapping its wings and letting out a caw of disgust, the bird lifts into the sky and heads back out across the sea.
“I can’t believe it,” says Wren, stretching back up into a standing position. “They’re using ravens again.”
“Who is?” Hawk cranes his neck as he tries to see the note Wren’s unraveled. None of this is making any sense.
Wren holds out the parchment and Hawk’s disappointed to see it’s in some kind of code.
“Can you read it?” he asks.
She nods. “Stage one complete. The Falcon is dead. Commander’s instructions to follow.”
The words send an icy chill down Hawk’s spine. Who in sweet Terra is the Falcon? “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”
Wren looks up from the note, blinking at him as if trying to clear the fear from her eyes. “It means I was wrong. The war’s not coming. It’s already here.”
SAM
“You can’t go, Sam.”
Sam glances down at where her mother has gripped her hand, stopping her in the middle of the path. They’re on their way to the meeting of the leaders.
They’re on their way to the vote.
Sam frowns. “But I was voted as a Seeker. I was chosen to go.”
Her mother bites her lip. “Yes, I know that. But with everything we’ve just learned, and Seb…”
Sam’s frown deepens. Seb had been paler than usual this morning, but that could be caused by anything. A poor night’s sleep. His loss of appetite last night.
The upcoming vote.
Sam twists her hand so she’s holding her mother’s. “Seb will be fine. He’s got you and Dad to look after him.”
“And who will you have?”
Her mother’s face is tight with worry, her hand gripping Sam’s so hard it almost hurts. But Sam shakes it off as she steps back.
“Why does everyone think I need looking after?”
The hurt that not even her own father wants her going flares like a cut that was just reopened. Not only that, he asked Luca to sabotage her.
Sam’s hands clench. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I can do this?”
She’s the one who still made it through. Enough people put tokens in her urn to enable her to be here.
Her mother’s face softens as her hand reaches out. “Sam, of course we believe in you. It’s just that the Newlands are more dangerous than we realized.”
But Sam jams her hands on her hips. “You didn’t stop Luca from going.”