TWENTY-FIVE
Mare
Even though my time at the Notch was fraught with exhaustion and heartbreak, it still holds a corner of my heart. For once, I remember the good more vividly than the bad. Days when we returned with living newbloods, snatched from the jaws of execution. It felt like progress. Every face was proof that I was not alone—and that I could save people as easily as kill them. Some days, it felt simple. Right. I’ve been chasing that sensation ever since.
The Piedmont base has its own training facilities, both indoor and outdoor. Some are equipped for Silvers, the rest for Red soldiers to learn war. The Colonel and his men, now numbering in the thousands and growing every day, claim the shooting range. Newbloods like Ada, those with less-devastating abilities, train with him, perfecting their aim and combat skills. Kilorn shuttles between their ranks and the newbloods on the Silver training grounds. He belongs with neither group, yet his presence soothes many. The fish boy is the opposite of a threat, not to mention a familiar face. And he doesn’t fear them, like so many of the “true” Red soldiers. No, Kilorn has seen enough from me to never be afraid of a newblood ever again.
He accompanies me now, escorting me around the edge of a building about the size of an airjet hangar. But it has no runway. “Silver gymnasium,” he says, pointing at the structure. “All sorts of stuff in there. Weights, an obstacle course, an arena—”
“I get it.” I learned my skills in a place like that, surrounded by leering Silvers who would kill me if they saw one drop of my blood. At least I don’t have to worry about that anymore. “Probably shouldn’t train anywhere with a roof or lightbulbs.”
Kilorn snorts. “Probably not.”
One of the gymnasium doors bangs open and a figure steps out, a towel around his neck. Cal scrubs sweat off his face, still silver-flushed with exertion. Weight lifting, I assume.
He narrows his eyes and closes the distance between us as quickly as he can. Still panting, he puts a hand out. Kilorn takes it with an open grin. “Kilorn.” Cal nods. “Taking her on a tour?”
“Ye—”
“Nah, she’s going to start up with some of the others today.” Kilorn speaks over me, and I resist the urge to elbow him in the gut.
“What?”
Cal darkens. He heaves a deep breath. “I thought you were going to give yourself more time.”
Kilorn surprised me in the hospital, but he’s right. I can’t sit around anymore. It feels useless. And I am restless, with anger boiling beneath my skin. I’m not Cameron. I’m not strong enough to step back. Even lightbulbs have started sparking when I enter a room. I need release.
“It’s been a few days. I thought it over.” I put my hands on my hips, bracing myself against his inevitable counter. Without even realizing it, Cal settles into his patented arguing-with-Mare stance. Arms crossed, brow furrowed, feet firmly planted. With the sun behind me, he has to squint, and after his workout, he reeks of sweat.
Kilorn, the rotten coward, backs away a few steps. “I’ll see you when you finish having a moment.” He tosses a shit-eating grin over his shoulder, leaving me to fend for myself.
“Just a minute,” I call at his retreating form. He only waves, disappearing around the corner of the gymnasium. “Some backup he is. Not that I need it,” I add quickly, “since it’s my decision and this is just training. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Well, half my worry is for the people in the blast zone. And the rest . . .” He takes my hand, using it to pull me closer. I wrinkle my nose, digging in my heels. Not that it matters much. I slide along the pavement anyway.
“You’re all sweaty.”
He grins wrapping one arm around my back. No escape. “Yep.”
The scent isn’t entirely unpleasant, even though it should be. “So you’re not going to fight me on this?”
“Like you said. Your decision.”
“Good. I don’t have the energy to bicker twice in one morning.”
He shifts and pushes me back gently, to better see my face. His thumbs graze the underside of my jaw. “Gisa?”
“Gisa.” I huff, brushing a wisp of hair out of my face. Without the Silent Stone, my health has vastly improved, down to my nails and hair growing at a normal rate again. Still gray ends, though. That’s never going away. “She keeps bothering me about relocation. Go to Montfort. Leave everything behind.”
“And you told her go ahead, didn’t you?”