We plodded through the streets, human water droplets forming tributaries that flowed toward the Auditorium. Talking was forbidden now that Corporations owned words. It was too late to mourn the legal battles over copyrights won by slick lawyers. The world order had changed, and there was
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Tavin was on autopilot until everything ahead turned a bright vermillion.
His feet had been leading him home while he watched his favorite engineering channel, trying to meet his required screen time. His family didn’t need trouble with the ever-vigilant Inspectors.
He’d lightly
“The King is dead!”
Thunderous roaring from the crowd called for the king’s head, deafening me and chilled me to the bone. Only one thing had satisfied them: the King’s blood. My blood.
Did my people really loathe me that much?
If they thought the king was dead… A sickening knot formed in my stomach.
“Surveillance to Headquarters, code red in Sector Five.”
I frown, tapping the holo-desk to activate the map. “The city square again? But we just—”
“Shh.” My boss, Josef, pushes his archaic spectacles farther up his nose, eyes locked on his screen.
I open my mouth to protest, think better of it, and check my smartwatch.
If Remy didn’t know any better, she’d say they were heading farther into Lord Filch’s fortress instead of toward its exit.
The dull blare of an alarm punctuated Remy’s footsteps as she followed Kyanne through the servants’ passageway. Only Axel’s hand in hers kept her noodle legs from collapsing. “Kyanne,” Remy gasped, “where exactly are we going?”
“We’re risking our lives for a princess no one has ever seen,” I grumble, tossing my knife and catching it again. Ruddy light from the fireplace dances down its long, wicked blade.
Most people think it’s odd for a girl to be so fond of weapons.
But if I cared what most people
All Remy wanted to do was hurl the cobbler at Lord Filch’s smug face. Instead, she gave him her brightest smile and a big slice.
“Delcio cobbler, sire.” She stepped back to join the other servant, an older woman named Kyanne, at the tapestried wall of the dining room. “Made with fresh fruit
“We walked into a war zone for a leaf?” Axel crossed his arms.
Remy scanned the trees for folha, one of the many ingredients they’d left camp to find. The bark was sadly free of green vines.
Her stomach growled. Though the emerald canopy hid the sun overhead, Remy guessed it was around midafternoon,
Remy gagged as soon as the first spoonful touched her tongue. “You call this food?”
What should have been delicious soup was mildly acidic, flavorless, and the wilted airi leaves squelched in bitter bursts. She should’ve known how bad it would be by the scent, but she’d given Axel the benefit of the doubt. Wrongly.
There’s always my reflection in the red puddle.
But tonight, there’s more. Tonight, there’s a man standing over my best friend’s dead body, and the barrel of his gun swallows me up.
He pulls the trigger, and I scream.
My eyes fly open, and the first thing I register is the rain plopping softly into the pot by my bed.
The rebels had promised a quick, painless Revolution: Down with the king, up with the men living in nothing but dust.
Liars, all of them, Sabelle thought, grimacing. The rebels’ notion of freedom excluded anyone connected to the nobility, no matter how far-removed the relation.
Ral stumbled into the smoky tavern and allowed himself the indulgence of sitting next to one of the blazing torches mounted along the walls. Dangerous, perhaps, but at this point he didn’t care. He needed to get away from the presence of the Shadow.
A barmaid brought him a glass, but he didn’t drink,
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