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.”
His use of my languages is his way of signaling whether or not he’s happy with me. Whenever he uses Basean, it is because he’s upset and cruel, eager to taunt me with the sound of my old home. When he uses Maran, though, he is in a good-enough mood to dole out small kindnesses. Or he’s lonely and in need of a friend—even if it’s the illusion of one.
I stare back at him without moving a muscle, hating the way he can interpret my emotions. At least he can’t read my mind—yet.
He gives me a subtle, sidelong smile as he settles back against his pillows. “You must be wondering how much lovelier it was in the past.” He sighs. “Before we expanded, you know, this continent was covered with warring nations. Tanapeg quarreled with Hover every decade. Larc tried to invade Kente. Everywhere, people hid behind their walls and died throwing themselves against their enemies. It’s like that across the oceans too.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Did you know that?”
There’s little we know about the rest of the world’s nations, other than that they war too. I remember hearing about the breaking up of a country across the ocean that now exists as a dozen separate territories.
“I know you survived horrors in Basea during our invasion,” Constantine tells me. “I know what you witnessed. But since the Federation united all the nations on our continent, there has never been another war. No blood shed, no battle fought. No lives lost. Do you understand?”
A lie, I want to say. There have been uprisings and riots in every country conquered by the Federation. And if today’s punishments in the arena are any indication, they have only gotten worse.
I understand, I reply through our link.
“You understand, but you don’t agree.” He sweeps his hand idly in my direction. “The Federation has brought peace, regardless of whether you choose to believe that.”
Annihilation is not peace.
“My father didn’t annihilate anyone,” he replies. “He saved failing nation-states by uniting them under one flag.”
I think about the soldier who shot my father the night Basea was invaded, and a helpless rage floods me.
Constantine sighs, and just for a moment, I see him as a young man, slowly dying from the inside out. “Peace is a good thing, however it’s bought,” he whispers.
Is it peace if there are still so many rebels out there?
The topic is a thorn in his side, and I feel a brief satisfaction at the prickle of irritation that darts through our link. He narrows his eyes at me.
It is. And it will stay.
You’re wasting your time trying to convince me of anything.
“Maybe it’s a waste of time,” he agrees. He closes his eyes. I can sense pain still pulsing through his body. “Or maybe you’ll find yourself dwelling on my words at night, until they make sense.”
Why do you care?
He opens his eyes briefly, and for a moment, I sense something tragic in his mix of emotions. “Everyone wants someone to believe them,” he replies.
Then he turns his head away, and I head toward my adjoining room. Even as I close the door, I can still sense Constantine as if it is open, can envision his room as he might see it. The ache in his body is still there, loosening his tongue. As his exhausted mind finally lulls itself into sleep, I get the curious feeling that he meant every word.
It must be lonely, living in a world of your own lies.
* * *
It takes me hours, as always, to drift off into a light, troubled sleep. Corian, my first Shield, had always teased me about my deep sleeping habits—I used to wake in our shared Striker apartment every morning at his cheerful calls from the kitchen, followed by a pillow flung at my head.
Those happy days are only a memory now.
As my mind finally, mercifully, gives way to unconsciousness, the rope of a bridge tightens against my thoughts, tugging at me from some faraway, invisible anchor. Anxiety flitters down my chest to settle in my stomach, hollow and bitter, as I wonder if the Premier can sense this too.
I travel down the bridge. When I look down, I see a chasm extending down into nothing, cut only by a silver ribbon of a river. It reminds me of the bridge I’d crossed with my mother on the night we escaped from Basea, of the river winding below us. I feel an inkling of the same terror as I look over my shoulder, certain that the Premier is chasing after me.