It is the part of me that had once helped a boy prisoner in the Striker arena, for no reason other than I believed he deserved better. It is the part of me that wants so badly to open itself up to Red’s call through our link. The part of me that is like that young, would-be assassin willing to lay down her life for what is right.

I think back to the night when Constantine had leaned back against his pillow and told me, Everyone wants someone to believe them. How lonely he’d seemed in that moment, in spite of all his power. How I pitied him. Now I know why. I pitied him because I knew, even then, that I am not like him.

I am not alone. Not if I let myself reach out to the world beyond me. And perhaps I’m not protecting anyone by walling myself away like this.

We can’t win if we don’t help each other, Red told me in our dream.

Maybe he’s right, after all. Maybe I need to be braver.

As I step out of the room, I let down the walls of my emotions for the first time in a long time. Then I close my eyes and reach tentatively out for Red, seeking our bond.

If we’re going to take down this Federation, we’re going to use all the help we can get. And another Skyhunter might be exactly what we need.

24

RED

We don’t even need to hear about Constantine’s attempted assassination to know that something has happened at the solstice festival. No one tries to shoot the Premier and not cause a scene, you know?

From our vantage point near the lab complex, we can hear the commotion, see the guards rushing toward the Sun Dial building. I lower myself among the tree branches surrounding the lab complex and exchange a quiet stare with Jeran crouched in the next tree. We’d come here in the hopes of hearing some updates about the two victims that had arrived at the complex, but we’ve heard nothing.

Now, with the guards running through the streets, we’ll have to wait until later in the night to move securely away from the area.

But that doesn’t mean we don’t get to witness the spectacle caused by an attempted assassination. The shouts are everywhere in the streets. The news reaches us, fragmented and fleeting, from citizens hurrying by.

“—the Premier is shot!—”

“—a girl—”

“—taking him back to his estate—”

“—had collapsed on the steps of the dais—”

“—rebels right in the center of the city!—”

“—he’s weak—”

“—he’s injured—”

“—he’s dying—”

Not until hours later do we finally move from our cramped spots. In the distance looms the arena, its lights illuminating the street encircling it. I wonder if they’ve done anything differently with Adena and Aramin since the assassination attempt. If they’ve secured them more, our plans just became more complicated.

That’s when the impossible happens. I feel a sudden tug through my bond with Talin. It’s not the tenuous connection we have in our sleep, in that unreal dream world, where we seem to have little control over when we get to speak. No, this is conscious and deliberate.