Corinth is burning.
“Please, no,” Tarver’s whispering again beside me, resting his forehead against the window, tears streaming down his cheeks as the Daedalus screams down toward the city.
It’s like watching a stone land in water—debris goes flying up in the wake of the huge ruin of a ship, whole buildings disintegrating, sending up showers of dust and smoke, twisted metal and flames.
Corinth is burning.
I spin away from the window, and Sofia comes with me. She throws her arms around me, and I pull her in close, burying my face in her hair, and I breathe in her warmth, her life, trying desperately to block out the images of the dying city I can see even with my eyes closed. For this moment we’re not the Knave and the con artist, and there’s no artifice when she pulls me close. When I lift my head, Flynn has his arms around Jubilee, and she’s whispering something in his ear that only has him squeezing her tighter.
And Tarver Merendsen’s alone, still watching at the window, white as a sheet in his bloodstained shirt, as though he’s watching his own execution.
And in that moment, whatever I held against him, whatever part of me blamed him for taking my brother’s place—that part dissolves into nothing. This is a man Simon would have wanted for Lilac. I see that now.
He loves her. Watching the death and destruction below, knowing the creature capable of this has stolen her from him, I know he does.
“Tarver.” My voice is hoarse, and I don’t bother trying to clear my throat. I think my cheeks are wet as well, and they should be. My world is bleeding below us.
He turns his head slowly, and his gaze is haunted.
“We’re not done yet,” I say quietly.
Still leaning against me, Sofia lifts her head. “Damn straight we’re not,” she says, steel in her voice, daring anyone to contradict her.
Nobody does.
“We need to find somewhere to land,” Jubilee says, moving past us to check the autopilot. Beyond her, I see another cluster of debris disappear into the thick cloud of smoke now covering the swath of destruction in the north of the city. “This shuttle was only meant for maintenance, and supply runs to the ship—it’s not fueled to stay up here for long.”
“Where should we be aiming for? Where’s safe? We have no idea if Lilac can find us,” Flynn says quietly, running one hand through his curls and finally looking something less than put-together.
I look across at Jubilee—soldier or not these days, she’s got her soldier’s face on now, gazing at the four of us with no hint of her feelings showing. “Stone-faced Chase,” they used to call her on Avon. I read that in her file. It’s still impressive, in person. And perhaps it’s because I’m staring at her, thinking about the soldier that still lives inside her, that the idea comes. But suddenly, I know where we should go. “I have a place.”
Four heads turn toward me.
“I know a woman, her name’s Kumiko. She’s ex-military.”
“Can we trust her?” Finally, Jubilee speaks.
Sofia asked me that same question about Mae, and I can feel her eyes on me. This time, I swallow hard. “I don’t know. I can’t promise. But you and Merendsen are ex-military, that’ll mean something to her. And she was posted on Avon. She knows what LaRoux’s capable of. I’ve dealt with her before, as the Knave. She trusts him, as much as she trusts anyone. Her place has security, it’s practically a fortress. And she’ll have a medical kit.” I’m trying not to look at Sofia’s hand, at her face where a piece of the plas-pistol cut her chin.
“We can’t stay up here.” Sofia sounds exhausted, and when I wrap my arm around her, she simply leans in against me, head on my shoulder. “We have to use the—the confusion to land.”
The confusion. The hundreds of thousands of lives that were just snuffed out, right below us. The millions of people who just lost a child, or a parent, or a partner. There’s nothing we could call it that would do it justice, and the crack in her voice tells me how close she is to breaking. I’m no better, myself.
Jubilee looks across at Flynn, then meets Sofia’s eyes—she doesn’t try for Merendsen, who’s leaning forward now, his head in his hands. Then, slowly, she nods. “Give me the coordinates.”
We land on the roof of Kumiko’s complex, and as the shuttle settles on the painted X of the landing pad, half a dozen guns appear in the windows of the stairwell, trained on us.
“Are we going to get a chance to introduce ourselves before we’re shot?” Flynn asks, eyeing them through a window. The view is only dimly visible in the glow of the shuttle’s emergency lighting.
“We’ll get a chance,” I say. “They’d have fired on our underside while we were landing, if that’s what Kumiko intended.”
“Comforting,” Flynn mutters.
“Good thing she didn’t,” Merendsen says, joining him at the window. “This is a maintenance shuttle, no armor.”
We’ve only got Jubilee’s weapon between us, and Sofia’s plas-pistol is long gone. I’ve shoved my hacking kit into my pockets and strapped it against my body under my clothes. If I’ve completely misjudged this, and I’m going to be locked up somewhere, I’ll have my weapons of choice. Assuming Kumiko’s people don’t just shoot me.
I raise my hands into clear view and make my way down the shuttle steps, Jubilee covering me from the doorway with her pistol.
A stocky figure appears in the doorway leading up from below, carrying an emergency lantern, lifting it high in one hand to illuminate the landing pad. She’s clad in black with a kerchief tied over her face, and if we’re short on weapons, Kumiko certainly isn’t. She’s carrying a gun as thick as her forearm, and she jerks the barrel to signal that I should halt a few steps from the shuttle. “You can stay right there, thanks.”
I suck in a slow breath, let it out. “Kumiko, it’s me—”
“You got a name, me?” she snaps, hefting her gun. She does something that makes a clicking sound, and I’m pretty sure it’s the safety coming off.
Oh, hell. “The Knave,” I say, arms twitching with the urge to drop them, protect myself. “The Knave of Hearts.”
Her mouth falls open. “Password,” she snaps, recovering, and for a moment I’m lost. Password? My mind scrambles, flailing for some memory to attach that word to, and just as I’m starting to panic, there it is. When I set up the forum I host for her troop, we chose a password together that would allow either of us to crash it, in the event they were about to be discovered. I mostly thought I was catering to her paranoia, back then. “Trodaire,” I stammer.
Slowly, she lowers her weapon. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“That’s an incredibly long story,” I start. “I’m here with…” I pause, not sure what to say. Friends? That’s a stretch.
But she’s not listening. In fact, she’s staring past me at the doorway of the shuttle. “Captain?” Kumiko’s voice has dropped, uncertain, softer now. “Captain Chase?” She reaches up to pull her kerchief down, revealing the lower half of her face.
Jubilee Chase walks slowly down the steps to stand by my side, her gun lowering. I hold still, silently willing Kumiko not to freak out and start firing.