Page 125 of Cage of Starlight
“We don’t have time for better ones.” Niela’s knuckles show like blades from her bloodless grip on the steering wheel. “You’ve got this, right? Tell me you’ve got this.”
Trees swallow the Compound and its suffocating walls as they descend the hill.
Sena breathes while he still can. “I’ve got this.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Niela pulls off the road at the rim of the forest, and they get out.
Even with the drugs softening the edges of his pain, it thuds up through Sena’s bones. The earth pulls him down, pulls his eyelids low, begs him to sink into a long sleep.
“I’ve got this,” Sena says again.
Iri and Niela exchange a conversation in glances, and Sena closes his eyes. Hecankeep going. Ahead of him, beyond the trees, yellowing grass and a serpentine black road slither up toward the sharp-toothed gate.
Iri speaks first, voice soft but gaze steely. His eyes turn, unerring, to the right, and he rubs the flint rings on his thumbs to create a spark he builds into a sphere, wild flames licking from the circle. “You both go ahead. I’ll make sure no one stops you.”
“Be careful,” he says.
Iri raises an eyebrow. “Surely you know me better than that by now. I will see you when this is finished.”
It’s probably not appropriate to admit that he doesn’t expect to leave these walls once he enters them.
Niela settles in beside him as Iri disappears into the woods, red-lit by his flames.
“Let’s go,” Sena says.
Anxiety churns in his gut as they walk the wide-open road toward the guard tower. Sena barely dares to breathe. But Iri was as good as his word. No one intercepts them on their way up.
The gate guard behind the window’s smoky glass jumps to attention as always, but his posture slackens with shock as he takes both of them in. “Sir! You’re . . .”
“I’ve come with urgent information to report.”
“Everyone’s saying you were . . .”
Sena forces calm over himself. “I need to enter.”
“It’s. Um. See, it’s complicated, a bit, because your permissions to enter have been revoked with, uh, your presumed death. I’d have to . . . I’d at least need to contact the colonel and—”
“No!” The word tears itself from Sena’s throat. “I’ll report when I’m inside. Private Jemmes, please. Time is of the essence.”
A sigh, a restless tapping on the table. “This is highly unusual. I’ll need to see your tab, at least.”
Sena’s hand dives into the pocket where he keeps it, and he finds nothing. “That’s part of the problem,” he blurts. “A . . . security breach.” Oh, he’s awful at this. “Rebels intercepted me near the border” —true— “and took it.” Lie? “We need to immediately change security protocols or we’ll be vulnerable to attack.” Irrelevant, given the situation.
“Oh!” The boy’s eyes widen. “If that’s the case, surely I should—”
Niela stomps around to the window, and she really is a vision, bathed in Iri’s still wet blood and the dried blood from the sheet-covered boy she couldn’t save. “Don’t you get it? How do you think they found him?” she hisses, and Private Jemmes jolts back, eyes wide. “The higher-ups arepartof it. Don’t you get it? At least one of them is in on it. Are you a gambler, Private?”
“This . . . I can’t,” Jemmes mumbles. “I mean, Ishouldn’t. . .”
“You should,” Niela says, “If you want anyone within these walls to survive the night.”
Jemmes blinks rapidly, and the gate whips up into the wall. He stares after them, eyes huge and round, as they approach it.
“Hurry,” Niela whispers. “He starts thinking about any of that and he’ll find holes big enough to swim through.”
Sena resists the urge to apologize until the toothy maw of the gate clamps shut behind them, locking them inside. If the Compound survives, Jemmes will lose his job for this.
At the end of the path, the blacked-out glass of the Compound’s entrance casts its interior in subdued charcoal and blue. It opens as they draw near. Sena’s feet slowing until he stands, frozen, on the threshold.
