Farley is a Lakelander by birth, better suited to the weather. She doesn’t seem to notice the snow or the prickling cold. Her mind is still obviously somewhere else. With someone else.
“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go after my brother,” I mutter to the silence. Both for myself and for her. Something else to think about. “I’m glad he isn’t here.”
She glances at me sidelong. Her eyes narrow with suspicion. “Is Cameron Cole admitting she was wrong about something?”
“I can do that much. I’m not Mare.”
Another person might think that rude to say. Farley grins instead. “Shade was stubborn too. Family trait.”
I expect his name to act as an anchor, dragging her down. Instead, it keeps her moving, one foot in front of the other. One word after the next. “I met him a few miles from here. I was supposed to be recruiting Whistle operatives from the Nortan black market. Use organizations already in place to better facilitate the Scarlet Guard. The Whistle in the Stilts gave me a lead on some soldiers up here who might be willing to coordinate.”
“Shade was one of them.”
She nods, thoughtful. “He was assigned to Corvium with the support troops. An officer’s aide. A good position for him, even better for us. He fed the Scarlet Guard miles of information, all funneled through me. Until it became clear he couldn’t stay any longer. He was being transferred to another legion. Someone knew he had an ability, and they were going to execute him for it.”
I’ve never heard this story. I doubt few have. Farley is not exactly forthcoming with her personal history. Why she’s telling me now, I can’t say. But I can see she needs to. I let her talk, giving her what she wants.
“And then when his sister . . . I’ve never seen him so terrified. We watched Queenstrial together. Watched her fall, watched her lightning. He thought the Silvers were going to kill her. You know the rest of that, I assume.” She bites a lip, looking down the length of her rifle. “It was his idea. We already had to get him out of the army to protect him. So he faked his execution report. Helped with the paperwork himself. Then he was gone. Silvers don’t care enough to follow through on dead Reds. Of course, his family minded. That part stuck him for a while.”
“But he still did it.” I try to be understanding, but I can’t imagine putting my own family through something like that, not for anything.
“He had to. And—and it served as a good motivation. Mare joined up after she found out. One Barrow for another.”
“So that part of her speech wasn’t a lie.” I think about what Mare was forced to say, glaring down a camera like it was a firing squad. They asked if I wanted vengeance for his death. “No wonder she has personality issues. No one tells the girl the truth about anything.”
“It’ll be a long road back for her,” Farley murmurs.
“For everyone.”
“And now she’s on that infernal tour with the king,” Farley rattles on. She spools up like a machine, her voice gaining momentum and strength with every passing second. Shade’s ghost disappears. “It will make things easier. Still horribly difficult, of course, but the knot is loosened.”
“Is there a plan in place? She’s getting closer by the day. Arborus, the Iron Road—”
“She was in Rocasta yesterday.”
The silence around us shifts. If the rest of our unit weren’t listening before, they certainly are now. I look back to lock my gaze on Ada. Her liquid-amber eyes widen, and I can almost see the cogs turning in her flawless mind.
Farley presses on. “The king visited the wounded soldiers evacuated from the first wave of attack. I didn’t know until we were halfway here. If I had, maybe . . .” she breathes. “Well, it’s too late for that now.”
“The king practically travels with an army,” I tell her. “She’s guarded night and day. There was nothing you could have done, not with just us.”
Still her cheeks flush, and not from the cold. Her fingers keep tapping idly on the stock of her gun. “Probably not,” she replies. “Probably not.” Softer, to convince herself.
Corvium casts a shadow over us, and the temperature drops in the gloomy shade. I pull up the neck of my collar farther, trying to burrow into its warmth. The black-walled monstrosity seems to howl at us.
“There. The Prayer Gate.” Farley points to an open mouth of iron fangs and golden teeth. Blocks of Silent Stone line the arch, but I can’t feel them. They don’t affect me. To my relief, Red soldiers man the gate, marked by rust-colored uniforms and worn boots. We move forward, off the snowy road and into the jaws of Corvium. Farley looks up at the Prayer Gate as we pass through, her eyes wide, blue, and trembling. Under her breath, I hear her whisper something to herself.