He stretches his legs out, grimacing at the water soaking his pants. “When I finally managed to contain myself enough to come out of the thickets, he guided me back to the others without a word. He had a hand on my shoulder and a hand holding my own, and I just remember … how warm he felt. He told the others I’d gone off to pay my respects to the dead. He never mentioned it again.”

In the silence that follows, I nod at him. “We’re going to get him out of there,” I say. “Just like how we’re going to save Talin. I don’t know how, but we will.”

He nods back. “I know how love can power you,” Jeran says softly.

Love. I think of the ways it can trap us, make us do things that can destroy us. And how we do it anyway.

That is why I’m here. To save the other Strikers, to rescue Talin. And somehow, that’s how I know I love her.

My eyes return to the museum in the distance.

This time, when I stare at it, I remember something different. In one of the displays that Laeni and I used to run past was a small object that looked like a steel cylinder.

Something that looked remarkably like what we’d seen loaded onto the train.

That’s why I’d thought the artifacts in Mara looked oddly familiar. That’s where I’d seen them before.

That’s where we might be able to uncover some clues about why Constantine is so interested in these artifacts, and what they might be capable of.

I must have sucked in my breath, because Jeran glances at me. “What?” he asks.

I look at him. “Care to tour the National Museum with me?”

18

TALIN

The first morning of the games dawns a bloody red.

The center of the arena today has been transformed into an intricate maze of walls. They stretch tall enough that the spectators can see everything happening within the walls, but anyone wandering through the maze itself is unable to see much aside from the sky.

Today, I soar high above the arena in a visible sweep of the city, looking for signs of unrest in the crowds below. As I angle my wings and swoop in an arc following the curve of the arena, my shadow stretches wide below. People along the thoroughfare duck instinctively when the darkness glides over them. I can see their eyes following the lethal grace of my movements. Constantine wants them to remember what kind of power he has at his side.

He also wants me to see the entirety of the arena. To remind me that this is where my lifelong friends and companions might die. All part of his own secret game.

Well, I’m playing one too.

A part of me yearns to reach out to Red. Wherever he is, he must not be far from the city center if we were able to connect in our dreams. But the instant I think it, I recoil as if struck by a whip. The walls go up again, and I cringe, forcing him from my thoughts. His hands, touching mine in my dream. His eyes, searching mine. His presence, so clear I was almost fooled into thinking he was there.