corridor and paused by Oren’s door, unable to stop myself from thinking of his face as he looked at my healing ear, as he touched my hair. But his room was dark and quiet, and if he was asleep I didn’t want to wake him. At least one of us could get some rest.
I knew I should go back into my room and sleep. But instead I put my back to Oren’s door and slid down to the ground with a bump. I missed the journey. I missed making a new camp each night and starting fresh the next day. No plans except surviving, no pressure. I’d been terrified, exhausted, half-starving—but it was just Oren and me, and Nix, and no one counting on us but ourselves.
I ducked my head, letting my hands dangle between my knees. Morning was coming all too soon.
The sounds of people stirring roused me, and I sat up, stifling a groan at my stiff neck. I was still sitting outside Oren’s room, but I must have drifted off. Dragging myself to my feet, I slipped back into my own room and changed.
They’d found new clothes for me—well, not new, but new to me. Black pants of a thin canvaslike material, strong and durable but flexible. A light top made of breathable fabric, good for the humidity. A jacket made of some kind of leather—my skin crawled a little as I put it on, the idea of wearing animal skins almost as abhorrent as the idea of eating meat. But Olivia had assured me that it’d help protect me if the route we were following was unstable, if there were environmental dangers along the way. They all fit perfectly—someone must have tailored them for me.
After days of wearing ill-fitting, borrowed clothing, it was a relief to have something that was just right. I couldn’t remember ever having clothes that fit me so well. Even in my home city, everything I wore was a hand- me-down from some other child who came before me.
The idea was to go during the day, Lethe-time, when the city’s machinery siphoned power away from the Star above. That way, if we made it to the surface, we’d get there during their nighttime. At first I protested, remembering the Mollyshadow and the rest of her family, but Wesley assured me that only dusk and dawn were dangerous Above, that the shadows left the city for most of the night to roam the countryside, looking for prey. We’d be safer then than we would be if we emerged in broad daylight, easily seen by the people living Above or —even worse—by patrolling Eagles.
I ate a quiet breakfast on my own, avoiding the whispers and furtive looks from the other people gathered for their morning meal. Officially my mission to find a route out of Lethe was secret, but the people here were no better than the kids I went to school with. There were rumors flying everywhere, and they all knew it had something to do with me.
I expected the others to be waiting there, and I braced myself for a tense send-off I didn’t want. This mission could mean everything for these people living on the fringes of the city—it could mean a way out. Freedom. The pressure was monumental, and I knew that seeing all those expectant faces would only make it worse.
When I got to the door, though, there was only Wesley. No sign of Marco or Parker or Olivia—and no sign either of Oren. I tried to ignore the unexpected stab of disappointment at that. Popular opinion among those in on the plan was that I was not coming back from this. I was relieved not to have to deal with anyone else, but Oren hadn’t even come to say goodbye.
Wesley smiled at me as I approached, but it was a grim sort of smile. “Ready, Lark?”
I nodded, searching for my voice. The last thing I wanted was to sound as frightened as I was. “Ready,” I replied firmly.
“I thought you might prefer to slip out quietly,” Wesley said drily. “Everyone else thinks you’re leaving in an hour.”
That made me smile. Wesley had gotten to know me pretty well through our training sessions. Because it
Wesley waved a hand. “No need for that. We’ll be the ones thanking you if you can get this done.”
“If I can find a way to the surface, do you think the Renewables will all leave? What will happen then to the rebels without magic, like Olivia?”
Wesley shifted his weight from foot to foot, turning his gaze on the door leading out into the city. “I can’t speak for anyone else,” he said finally, resting his hand on the crude but effective mechanism locking the door from the inside. “I know what my choice would be, though.”
I glanced from his hand to his face, which showed a strange kind of pride as he gazed at the place the rebels had built. The place my brother had built.
“What if I hurt someone?” The words came out in a rush, easier to say here in the quiet and the gloom. “What if I kill someone again?”
Wesley let his hand fall and turned to face me. “Then you kill someone,” he said shortly. “But you’re strong. And stronger now than you were when you first came here. You know how much power a person needs to keep breathing, to keep his heart beating. It’s in you to kill, but it’s also in you to preserve life.”
I swallowed. I didn’t feel any different, and I certainly didn’t feel any stronger. All that had changed was that I’d gained an intimate understanding of just how I killed that man. Then it had been instinctive. Now I knew how it worked.
Wesley reached for my hand. I tried to jerk it back as I felt the familiar hunger rise at his touch, felt the warm tingle of power trying to flow from him to me—but he held on, his grip tight. “What I’ve taught you won’t prevent you from killing anyone, Lark. All I’ve done is teach you enough that it becomes a choice. What you choose is up to you.”
His eyes met mine for a long moment as I struggled against the urge to siphon away some of his magic.
“You can go ahead, if you want.” Wesley’s voice was low, and abruptly I realized that avoiding a scene might not have been his only reason for making his farewell in private. “I trust you to stop before you hurt me.”
I gazed at him, my vision blurring as I fought the hunger. It made sense to refill my reservoir of magic before I left, in case I needed it on the journey. It made sense to try it here, now, when there was help close at hand if something went wrong. It was the logical thing to do.
But I could feel the hunger, too dark and too deep—and this time when I yanked my hand away, Wesley let me go. His expression flickered briefly, and though I might have imagined it, he looked almost disappointed. I’d failed his test.
“No,” I gasped, rubbing my palm against my shirt as if trying to scrub away the intensity of the hunger. “I can’t, not yet.”
Wesley waited, scanning my features, but ultimately nodded. He turned for the door again, this time to send a pulse of magic through the mechanism to set it clanking and whirring, unbarring the door.
“Good luck, then, Lark,” said Wesley, running the hand that had been holding mine over his balding scalp. I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like for him, on the other end of my hungry power. I imagined it was like standing on the edge of some dark, shadowy abyss.
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak, and stepped through the doorway. It was the same entrance we’d come through that first day, letting me out into the city alongside Central Processing. I could hear the calls of the merchants hawking their wares in the marketplace just around the corner, and when I lifted my face, the fine mist raining down from the ceiling sprinkled my cheeks.
A familiar voice cried out, echoing in the tunnels. “Lark! Lark, wait—”
It was Oren. I whirled in time to see the door slam closed, the locking mechanism clanking back into place. Then there was a loud clang—I winced. It was the sound of Oren’s body hitting the inside of the door. I could still hear him shouting, though the sound was muffled now by the layers of bronze and iron between us.
“Lark—damn it, Wesley, open the door! I’m not letting her go without—
Wesley’s reply was too quiet and muffled for me to hear it, but whatever it was, the door stayed locked. I heard Oren bang on it once, twice—I could hear him tearing at the mechanism, trying to figure out how to open it without magic. “Lark—can you hear me? Are you there?”
