Without the manacles, the Silent Stone, the world feels empty. Weightless. I’m afraid I might float away. Still, the weakness is almost debilitating, worse than my last escape attempt. Six months of it will not disappear in an instant. I try to reach with my ability, try to feel the lightbulbs above my head. I can barely sense the buzz of them. I doubt I could even shut them off, something I used to take for granted.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Words I never thought I would say to her. They unsettle us both.
“You want to thank me, Barrow?” she mutters, kicking away the last of my bindings. “Then keep your word. And let this fucking place burn.”
Before I can tell her I’ll be of no use, that I’ll need days, weeks, months to recover, Wren puts her hands to my neck. I realize now why Evangeline dragged a skin healer along. Not for herself. For me.
Warmth bleeds down my spine, into my veins and bones and marrow. It pounds through me so completely I almost expect the healing to hurt. I drop to a knee, overtaken. The aches vanish. The trembling fingers, weak legs, sluggish pulse—every last ghost of Silent Stone flees before the touch of a healer. My head will never forget what happened to me, but my body quickly does.
The electricity rushes back, thundering from the deepest part of me. Every nerve shrieks to life. All down the hallway, the lightbulbs shatter on their chandeliers. The hidden cameras explode into sparks and spitting wires. Wren jumps back, yelping.
I look down to see purple and white. Naked electricity jumps between my fingers, hissing in the air. The push and pull is achingly familiar. My ability, my strength, my power has returned.
Evangeline takes a measured step back. Her eyes reflect my sparks. They glow.
“Keep your promise, lightning girl.”
Darkness walks with me.
Every light sizzles and blinks out as I pass. Glass shatters, electricity spits. The air buzzes like a live wire. It caresses my open palms, and I shiver at the feel of such power. I thought I had forgotten what this was like. But that’s impossible. I can forget almost everything else in this world, but not my lightning. Not who and what I am.
The manacles made it exhausting to walk. Without them weighing me down, I fly. Toward the smoke, the danger, to what could finally be my salvation or my ending. I don’t care which, so long as I’m not stuck in this hellish prison one second longer. My dress flutters in ruby tatters, ripped enough to let me run as fast as I can. The sleeves smolder, burning with every new burst of sparks. I don’t hold myself back now. The lightning goes where it wants. It explodes through me with every heartbeat. The purple-white bolts and sparks dance along my fingers, blazing in and out of my palms. I shudder in pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so wonderful. I keep looking at the electricity, enamored with every vein. It’s been so long. It’s been so long.
This must be what hunters feel like. Every corner I turn, I hope to find some kind of prey. I run the shortest route I know, tearing through the council chamber, its empty seats haunting me as I sprint over the Nortan seal. If I had time, I would obliterate the symbol beneath my feet. Tear up every inch of the Burning Crown. But I have a real crown to kill. Because that’s what I’m going to do. If Maven is still here, if the wretched boy hasn’t gotten away. I’m going to watch his last breath and know he can never hold my leash again.
The Security officers retreat in my direction, their backs to me. Still doing as Evangeline commanded. All three have their long guns tucked into the crooks of their shoulders, fingers on triggers as they cover the passageway. I don’t know their names, just their colors. House Greco, strongarms all. They don’t need bullets to kill me. One of them could break my back, crush my rib cage, pop my skull like a grape. It’s me or them.
The first hears my footsteps. He turns his chin, looking over his shoulder. My lightning shrieks up his spine and into his brain. I feel his branching nerves for a split second. Then darkness. The other two react, swinging around to face me. The lightning is quicker than they are, splitting them both.
I never break pace, vaulting over their smoking bodies.
The next hall runs alongside the square, its once-gleaming windows streaked with ash. A few chandeliers lie smashed against the floor in twisted heaps of gold and glass. There are bodies too. Security officers in their black uniforms, Scarlet Guard with their red scarves. The aftermath of a skirmish, one of many raging within the larger battle. I check the closest Guardsman to me, reaching down to feel her neck. No pulse. Her eyes are closed. I’m glad I don’t recognize her.
Outside, another burst of blue lightning forks through the clouds. I can’t help but grin, the corners of my mouth pulling sharply on my scars. Another newblood who can control lightning. I’m not alone.
Moving quickly, I take what I can off the bodies. A pistol and ammunition from an officer. A red scarf from the woman. She died for me. Another time, Mare, I chide myself, pushing aside the quicksand of such thoughts. Using my teeth, I tie the scarf to my wrist.
Bullets ping against the windows, a spray of them. I flinch, dropping to the floor, but the windows hold firm. Diamondglass. Bulletproof. I’m safe behind them, but also trapped.
Never again.
I slide up against the wall, trying not to be seen as I observe. The sight makes me gasp.
What was once a wedding celebration is now all-out war. I was in awe of the house rebellion, Iral and Haven and Laris against the rest of Maven’s court, but this dwarfs it substantially. Hundreds of Nortan officers, Lakelander guards, deadly nobles of the court on one side, with Scarlet Guard soldiers on the other. There have to be newbloods among them. So many Red soldiers, more than I ever thought possible. They outnumber the Silvers at least five to one, and they are certainly, clearly soldiers. Trained to military precision, from their tactical gear to the way they move. I start to wonder how they even got here, but then I see the airships. Six of them, all landed directly on the Square itself. Each one spits soldiers, dozens of them. Hope and excitement roar through me.