Gisa leads us out and into the hall, while Mom follows, drying my hair with another soft towel. They show me into a powder-blue bedroom with two fluffy beds. It’s small but more than suitable. I’d take a dirt floor over the most sumptuous chamber in Maven’s palace. Mom is quick to pull me into a pair of cotton pajamas, not to mention socks and a soft shawl.
“Mom, I’m going to boil,” I protest kindly, unwinding the shawl from my neck.
She takes it back with a smile. Then she kisses me again, swooping to brush both my cheeks. “Just making you comfortable.”
“Trust me, I am,” I tell her, giving her arm a squeeze.
In the corner, I notice my jeweled gown from the wedding, now reduced to scraps. Gisa follows my gaze and blushes.
“Thought I could save a bit of it,” my sister admits, looking almost sheepish. “Those are rubies. I’m not going to waste rubies.”
It seems she has more of my thief’s instincts than I realized.
And, apparently, so does my mother.
She speaks before I even take a step toward the bedroom door.
“If you think I’m going to let you stay up to all hours talking war, you are absolutely incorrect.” To cement her point, she folds her arms and settles directly in my path. My mother is shorter, like me, but she’s a laborer of many years. She is far from weak. I’ve seen her manhandle all three of my brothers, and I know firsthand she’ll wrestle me into bed if she needs to.
“Mom, there are things I need to say—”
“Your debriefing is at eight a.m. tomorrow. Say it then.”
“—and I want to know what I missed—”
“The Guard overthrew Corvium. They’re working on Piedmont. That’s all anyone downstairs knows.” She speaks rapid-fire, herding me toward the bed.
I look to Gisa for help, but she backs away, hands raised.
“I haven’t spoken to Kilorn—”
“He understands.”
“Cal—”
“Is absolutely fine with your father and brothers. He can storm the capital; he can handle them.”
With a smirk, I imagine Cal sandwiched between Bree and Tramy.
“Besides, he did everything he could to bring you back to us,” she adds with a wink. “They won’t give him any trouble, not tonight at least. Now get in that bed and shut your eyes, or I’ll shut them for you.”
The lights hiss in their bulbs; the wiring in the room snakes along electric lines of light. None of it compares to the strength of my mother’s voice. I do as she says, clambering under the blankets of the closest bed. To my surprise, she gets in next to me, hugging me close.
For the thousandth time tonight, she kisses my cheek. “You’re not going anywhere.”
In my heart, I know that’s not true.
This war is far from won.
But at least it can be true for tonight.
Birds in Piedmont make a horrible racket. They chirp and trill outside the windows, and I imagine droves of them perched in the trees. It’s the only explanation for such noise. They are good for one thing, though: I never heard birds in Archeon. Even before I open my eyes, I know yesterday was not a dream. I know where I’m waking up, and what I’m waking up to.
Mom is an early riser by habit. Gisa isn’t here either, but I’m not alone. I poke out the bedroom door to find a lanky boy sitting at the top of the stairs, his legs stretched out over the steps.
Kilorn gets to his feet with a grin, his arms spread wide. There’s a decent chance I’ll fall apart from all the hugging.
“Took you long enough,” he says. Even after six months of capture and torment, he won’t treat me with kid gloves. We fall back into our old ways with blinding speed.
I nudge him in the ribs. “No thanks to you.”
“Yeah, military raids and tactical strikes aren’t exactly my specialty.”
“You have a specialty?”
“Well, besides being a nuisance?” he laughs, walking me downstairs. Pots and pans clatter somewhere, and I follow the smell of frying bacon. In the daylight, the row house seems friendly, and out of place for a military base. Butter-yellow walls and florid purple rugs warm the central hallway, but it is suspiciously bare of decorations. Nail holes dot the wallpaper. Maybe a dozen paintings have been removed. The rooms we pass—a salon and a study—are also sparsely furnished. Either the officer who lived here emptied his home, or someone else did it for him.
Stop it, I tell myself. I’ve earned the right not to think about betrayals or backstabbing for one damn day. You’re safe; you’re safe; it’s over. I repeat the words in my head.