It’s two lonely, excruciating hours before I hear the light tap on my door again. I resist the urge to throw it open and demand answers. But it opens on its own, and there’s Lara again. Arik is with her, and he’s dragging what looks like a dead or unconscious Imperial guard.
He lugs him into my suite and closes the door. Then pulls some cuffs from his pocket—they remind me of Ian, tugging painfully at my heart—and fastens the guy to the metal poster of my bed, then ties some sort of gag around his mouth before turning to give me a small bow. So, unconscious, then. That’s good.
“Your Highness.”
I realize I haven’t so much as breathed since they came in the room, and I do so now, dragging oxygen into my starving lungs.
I have one moment of terror—this is it; this is really it—but then I let the breath out, and the fear goes with it. Because it’s already too late to turn back.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “You didn’t have to—”
“Pardon me for interrupting, but I promised your father I would look after you. Tonight, I get to keep that promise. Are you ready to go?”
As ready as I’ll ever be. “What’s the plan?”
“There’s a short-range shuttle waiting on the roof. The pilot will take us to Luna. I’ve arranged for a longer-range ship to meet us there.”
“How did you arrange everything so quickly? It seems—”
“I’ve suspected for a long time that one day we might need a way out.”
“But why?”
He starts to say something, then must think better of it, because he just gives an awkward shake of his head. “I believe that’s a long conversation for another time. But I’m glad I did, and I’m glad I can be of service.”
“Me too. Arik, I will always appreciate this.”
“Just turn into the sort of person your father would have been proud of,” Arik says. “And that will be better than any gratitude.”
I blink back tears. I’m turning into a crybaby. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
The guard is still out cold as we leave the suite. Arik locks the door behind us, and then I lead the way, Lara behind me, with Arik bringing up the rear. We want it to look as normal as possible, like I’m just heading up to the roof for a night stroll, the way my father and I used to all the time.
But we don’t see anyone. And as we pause at the door leading to the roof and the shuttle landing dock, I start to think that this is actually going to work.
Arik opens the door to the roof, and I peer outside. It’s a beautiful night—clear and filled with stars.
For a moment, I can’t help thinking about the Starlight out there somewhere. I hope she’s okay, hope the people on board her are safe and comfortable and free in the Wilds. Once I get away from here, I’ll find a way to get a message to them somehow and warn them of what’s coming.
“It’s clear,” Arik murmurs.
I take a deep breath and step out onto the rooftop. The shuttle is at the far side of the landing platform, the hum of its engines the only sound in the tranquil night.
It’s so close—we’re so close. Just a little bit farther, and we’ll be free.
A little bit farther, and I never have to see this palace again.
My stomach clenches at the thought—it was my home for a very long time.
My house, actually, I realize as I think about my time on the Starlight. This place hasn’t been a home to me since my father died.
We race across the roof, keeping to the edge overlooking the city. I can’t help but think about the people in the city spread out below us—I used to come up here all the time when I was sad or frustrated or simply overwhelmed. I’d look out over the edge of the palace and make up stories about the people in the city down below or the stars blanketing the sky above.
Stories of adventure, of fun, of a life beyond the loneliness of the palace. It’s only now, as I’m trying to leave the palace behind, that I realize that, for a short while, those stories came true. For a short while, I lived a life of adventure in the stars.
I only hope I’ll get to do so again. I only hope I’m not too late.
The ramp to the shuttle is already down, and I can taste my freedom. We’re halfway there when Arik suddenly stops and raises his head. Then he turns to look at me, and I see the sadness in his face. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I did my best.”
A group of guards, weapons drawn and pointed straight at us, appears from behind the shelter of a building at the edge of the landing pad. They’re wearing the black-and-gray body armor of the Corporation security forces. Behind the soldiers are my mother and Dr. Veragelen.
My heart stops. The escape is over. And while I don’t think my mother will hurt me, I’ve put Arik and Lara in terrible danger.
I rush out to greet them, my hands held in front of me in obvious surrender. “Mother, please. This is all—”
“Kill him,” my mother interrupts in a voice completely devoid of emotion. It’s so empty, in fact, that it takes me a moment to register what she said.
But when it does, I scream “No!” and hurl myself to the side, desperate to protect Arik no matter what.
Lara grabs onto me, her arms looping through mine as she holds me in place. The guards fire, and Arik doesn’t even cry out when he gets shot. He just crashes to the ground at my feet, his eyes forever open and staring into the void.
“Get the servant,” my mother demands. “My daughter appears fond of her, and she may prove useful.”
One of the soldiers steps toward Lara, and she backs away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll find a way to help you. I’ll—”
I break off as she jumps up on the low parapet that surrounds the roof. “I won’t let them use me against you,” she cries out. “Don’t give up, Kali. Don’t ever give up.”
Horror slams through me as I realize what’s happening, and I race for her, throwing myself toward her feet. But I’m one second too late, my hands clutching at the air where she used to be as she throws herself backward and falls, falls, falls.
For a moment, I’m so devastated that I’m tempted to follow her over—there’s nothing but misery left for me here. But without me, there’s no one left to warn my friends, and I didn’t come this far to let them all die.
A dozen hands are clutching at me as I stare down at Lara’s bruised and broken body. I shake them off as I turn around, and though my knees are wobbling, I lock them in place. Princesses of the Empire do not collapse in a heap just because their life is over. We’re made of sterner stuff.
So, I stiffen my legs, straighten my shoulders, and let the rage burning inside me rise to the surface.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I tell my mother.
“Me?” she asks, brows raised. “You’re the one who brought all this about. It’s your fault that they’re dead, not mine.”
I want to argue with her—she gave the order that killed Arik—but the truth is that I am the one who got them into this. The one who swore to protect them and then instead let them die. Their deaths are on both our hands.