“Our bond tightens when we are physically closer,” I say.

Jeran looks at me. “Then maybe that means we should head back into Cardinia.”

I’m quiet for a while. He’s right, of course. Let the rest of the camp here survive on their own, free of whatever dangers I might bring back to them. We’ll carry on to the Federation itself.

I nod at him. “It’s where they’re taking the others, anyway, on that train.”

Jeran’s lips tighten. “Yes,” he replies. “So we don’t have a choice.”

And now I hear the hint of resolve in his voice, some fire burning deep and angry in his chest. The Federation is reckless in who it hurts. Perhaps someday, in some way, that recklessness will be what brings it down—recklessness that breeds strong enemies against it.

The other voice in me seems to agree, lending its strength to me.

You are still here. And that means you have a chance.

Jeran is careful not to voice aloud what we both fear. I picture Aramin, then Adena, strapped down in glass chambers, turned into Skyhunters or worse. I see them joining Talin’s side, forced to strike down their own friends and companions.

“It will be easier, just the two of us traveling,” I tell Jeran.

He nods, and I’m grateful that he—one of the first Marans to help me—will be at my side. The realization of leaving Mara behind to fall burdens his eyes. If we leave now, it is our acknowledgment that there is little our small group can do to take this nation back. It is him turning away from his homeland, like so many others have before him. Let things go so that we can live to fight another day.

Finally, he nods and points his boots away from the direction of the campsite. “Then let’s find a way to hitch a ride.”

CARDINIA

THE KARENSA FEDERATION

10

TALIN

I’m too scared to sleep.

As night falls, I find myself propped against the wall of my chamber adjoining the Premier’s, forcing myself to stay alert, to keep a tight handle on the walls around my heart. I pace at first. Then I pour cold water on my face, trying desperately to stay conscious. The night lengthens, the moonlight shifts across my floor. I count aloud, reciting old Basean poems or Maran folk songs, rhymes we used to say to pass the time on the warfront.

Sleep threatens to pull me under again and again. Each time, I jolt awake in a panic. No. I can’t sleep. I can’t dream. I can’t connect to Red by accident and expose him to the Premier. Not again.

I am alone now. No one can help me in this.

At some point before dawn, I pass out against the wall. I jerk upright with the first rays of dawn, bleary-eyed and gasping for air. Had I seen Red again? Had I betrayed him again?

But when I meet Constantine, he says nothing. I must not have slept for long enough.