Everlife

“What, you’ll start ripping off my clothes? Thanks for the warning.” Shamus vanishes, only to reappear behind me.

I can sense him, though I’m unable to resist as he forces my arms behind my back, then binds my wrists with a band of...fire? Though I strain every muscle in my body, the effects of the Dazer hold strong.

“No,” Luciana says, “I’ll start ripping out your guts.”

Shamus snorts and rips a small vial of ambrosia from my neck and pockets it. “Mr. Flynn’s comm is disabled, and he has no way to heal.” He plants a hard hand on my shoulder, and despite my link to Tenley, a waft of cold seeps past my shirt, not as potent as usual but still noticeable.

Tension emanates from Tenley as she struggles for mobility. Like me, she gets nowhere fast.

Part of me wants to shove her behind me—will protect her with my life.

Fool! The other part of me still wants to kill her. She’s the reason I’m in this sorry state.

Yessssss. Kill her. Kill. Finally!

Trust.

Shut up, both of you. Or me. Whatever! Let me think.

No time. One second we’re in the cave, the next we’re standing on a crystal bridge, a crimson waterfall in front of us. Cool mist billows, rising above walls of layered sediment interspersed with ruby geodes, topaz, jasper and beryl; together the stones create the illusion of multicolored wings.

The infamous Veil of Wings. The only entrance to Troika.

Beads of sweat pop up on my brow. Myriadians have tried to enter the waters before only to burn to death. No one has ever survived.

Unless the Generals lied, my bond to Tenley will protect me.

All of Troika should pray the Generals are wrong. You don’t escort a wolf into a herd of unsuspecting sheep without suffering the consequences.

As Luciana said, I can destroy the realm from the inside out. And I will.

chapter four (#u7856cc18-ae4b-5347-95b0-46827ab3d420)

“Rules made by others are chains. Govern yourself.”

—Myriad

Ten

I’m unable to protest, fight, something, anything, as Shamus carries Killian through the Veil of Wings. A desperate need to rush after him—my husband—bombards me, but my Dazer-frozen legs refuse to cooperate.

Can’t let him out of my sight. Inside Troika, he’ll be a target. I will be his only shield.

“Unless you assist us,” General Luciana says, “you won’t see your Myriadian again.”

No. Unacceptable. And yet, her words have the desired effect. Panic sets in, seeming to turn my spine into a block of ice, and my limbs into icicles.

Emotions are fleeting, remember? They are changeable; Luciana was right about that. Just because my mind and body feel a certain way, well, that doesn’t mean I have to let the emotion into my heart, as well.

I focus on the one thing I can control: my will. I won’t give up. I might have failed to stop this from happening, but I’ll keep fighting.

Fail: First Attempt In Learning. Always try again.

If you can’t save a world, save a city. If you can’t save a city, save a block. If you can’t save a block, save a family. If you can’t save a family, save a person. One person and problem at a time.

Forget Luciana, and her scheme. Forget the vote. Today, I’ll do whatever I can to protect Killian, even if I have to do it from afar.

Levi, my mentor, once told me the key to overcoming every problem is tattooed on my wrist. Loyalty to my realm, passion for the truth, liberty for all.

The horse... I still don’t know what it means. Horses can be ridden, raced. They can pull cargo. They are strong, sometimes stubborn.

How does that help me now?

Liberty: the effects of the Dazer will wear off in time, or when someone feeds me manna.

Truth: I can find Killian through our bond. No one, not even a General, can keep me from him.

Loyalty: true loyalty stems from love, and love empowers.

Loving a loved one is easy. Loving an enemy is where the true battle lies. If I can bring myself to act in love with Luciana, perhaps I’ll be unstoppable.

Even still, rage crackles inside me as I glare at her. Part of me feels like I’m back at Prynne, under the thumb of a cruel dictator. Too many things have gone wrong. I’ve been forgotten by my boyfriend/husband/whatever. I’ve been blackmailed by two Generals, and goaded by a voice in my head.

At least the voice—my voice—has gone quiet. As I’d peered up at Killian, a bolt of strength hit me. I managed to lock the worst part of myself inside a room in the Grid.

See? Love empowers.

“Our turn.” Luciana wraps an arm around my waist and drags me forward, as if I’m a mannequin.

Crackle, crackle.

Usually my troubles melt away under the crimson spray of water. Today I experience...nothing. No change whatsoever. Why?

Ahead, sparkling mist dusts a massive archway carved from a single pearl. A Troikan symbol is etched on top and on each side, making three in total.

Three is considered the number of perfection. Spirit, soul and body. Father, mother, child. Omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence. Loyalty, passion, liberty.

One can be a fluke, two can be a coincidence, but three is evidence.

Yesterday, no guards patrolled the wall. Today, different animals prowl from one end to the other. More than I can count. Dogs, cats, wolves, even lions, tigers and bears, oh, my.

Miracle of miracles, no one is fighting.

My gaze snags on a dog—pit bull?—and energy arcs between us. I gasp, startled. He must feel the energy, too. He blinks at me, shakes his head, as if disbelieving, then smiles.

Smiles? But why?

He must weigh over a hundred pounds. His fur is white and brown, matted and clumped with dirt. He has a serious under-bite that saves him from looking over-the-top ferocious. In fact, it makes him downright adorable. One of his ears is missing—bitten off?