Annihilation is not peace.

“My father didn’t annihilate anyone,” he replies. “He saved failing nation-states by uniting them under one flag.”

I think about the soldier who shot my father the night Basea was invaded, and a helpless rage floods me.

Constantine sighs, and just for a moment, I see him as a young man, slowly dying from the inside out. “Peace is a good thing, however it’s bought,” he whispers.

Is it peace if there are still so many rebels out there?

The topic is a thorn in his side, and I feel a brief satisfaction at the prickle of irritation that darts through our link. He narrows his eyes at me.

It is. And it will stay.

You’re wasting your time trying to convince me of anything.

“Maybe it’s a waste of time,” he agrees. He closes his eyes. I can sense pain still pulsing through his body. “Or maybe you’ll find yourself dwelling on my words at night, until they make sense.”

Why do you care?

He opens his eyes briefly, and for a moment, I sense something tragic in his mix of emotions. “Everyone wants someone to believe them,” he replies.

Then he turns his head away, and I head toward my adjoining room. Even as I close the door, I can still sense Constantine as if it is open, can envision his room as he might see it. The ache in his body is still there, loosening his tongue. As his exhausted mind finally lulls itself into sleep, I get the curious feeling that he meant every word.

It must be lonely, living in a world of your own lies.

It takes me hours, as always, to drift off into a light, troubled sleep. Corian, my first Shield, had always teased me about my deep sleeping habits—I used to wake in our shared Striker apartment every morning at his cheerful calls from the kitchen, followed by a pillow flung at my head.

Those happy days are only a memory now.

As my mind finally, mercifully, gives way to unconsciousness, the rope of a bridge tightens against my thoughts, tugging at me from some faraway, invisible anchor. Anxiety flitters down my chest to settle in my stomach, hollow and bitter, as I wonder if the Premier can sense this too.

I travel down the bridge. When I look down, I see a chasm extending down into nothing, cut only by a silver ribbon of a river. It reminds me of the bridge I’d crossed with my mother on the night we escaped from Basea, of the river winding below us. I feel an inkling of the same terror as I look over my shoulder, certain that the Premier is chasing after me.

But he isn’t. Instead, I travel alone across the bridge until I reach a land of gray, and there, the pulse of Red’s heart wraps around me, pulling me to him. Everything in me lifts in hope at the feeling. He’s here, all around me. I’m standing inside his consciousness. And slowly, the world he sees in that moment comes to me, as surely as if I’m beside him.