Page 65 of Cage of Starlight
A sob-like cough of panic works its way up Tory’s throat. “He’s—he’s not . . .”
Kirlov says nothing.
Tory jumps when Sena arches and gasps, drawing in a whistling breath like he’s been drowning and just broke the surface of the water. Tory breathes with him.
Kirlov steps back and turns away. “Lieutenant,” he says.
Sena moans, hazy eyes opening to half-mast and finding Tory before they squeeze closed again, lashes clumped with tears.
“Show your charge to the tents where he’ll be sleeping. I received news; we’ll be splitting up to take on a splinter group of infiltrators on the Arou Cliffs tomorrow. They still insist the claim to that area istheirs.The others will proceed to the site of the last skirmish as planned, and a portion of us will break off to handle this.”
Sena’s lips move, but no sound comes out. He swipes blood from his lips. Tory waits what feels like hours for him to curl onto his side, then push himself up on an elbow, onto shaky knees, and then onto both feet.
“You’re dismissed.” Kirlov turns to Tory. “Remember this, and learn.”
He won’t be able to forget.
Sena makes his way out the tent flap before he’s down on one knee again. His breaths come in odd, rasping gasps, like his lungs can’t remember how to work.
“Can I . . .” Tory whispers. He remembers, suddenly, that first time Sena arrived to take him to training, the way his gait looked wrong—wrong like this. “How many times—”
Sena shakes his head, doesn’t even look at Tory. Tory wonders if he’s aware of the sound he makes when he forces himself to his feet, a low whimper that makes Tory’s body flush with shame.
“T-told you,” Sena manages. “I—told you. . . to s-stay there.”
Tory’s voice deserts him as he takes small steps, trying to stay behind Sena. It’s hard. The long strides that usually leave him in Sena’s dust are drunken and staggering, his knees locking or giving out at odd times.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers when he finds his voice. For being the reason Kirlov hurt Sena this time, and probably times before this. For standing over him and looking down on his body like he was a thing. For sassing Kirlov. Fornotsassing Kirlov, not fighting back. For things he can’t put into words.
“Apologies are . . . useless,” Sena whispers. He makes a sound almost like a laugh, except it’s bitter and cracked and nearly voiceless, more a cough than anything. He brings Tory to the outcropping of tents where he’ll be sleeping.
“Here.” Sena stands stiff like his bones will crumble if he doesn’t.
Tory wants—needs—to say something, do something, to explain, but he can’t make his mouth work. He watches Sena go in silence.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aquick operation,everyonesays. A chance to stretch their legs.
Just a handful of Arlunian soldiers camped in the woods bordering the wide field and picturesque Arou Cliffs that hem in the cold ocean.
What meets them is anything but small. Fog and smoke explode around them when they push out from the tree line, blotting out the salty sea air.
Prentice saw none of this. Tory has no time to wonder how.
Chunks of dirt and cutting fragments of stone rain down. Tory surges forward, squinting into the billowing wall of white. It consumes the Westrian troops until Tory is alone inside it. The fog swallows sound. He knows only the hammering of his pulse and the heave of his breaths.
The CFR unit is limited by range of sight. If they can’t see what’s coming—
Tory doesn’t need his eyes. He reaches for nearby energies. Unlike during training, most of the projectiles out here are guided by Seeds and carry their signatures. He finds them.
Thousandsof them.
A volley of arrows pierces the fog. Tory expands his awareness to the fringes of the field and takes the energy off the arrows, flinging it in the general direction it came from, but once he’s done his job, gravity works as well on the arrows as it does on anything else. They stop, arrested midair—and fall.
Top-heavy, too many plummet point-first. Screams tear the air.
Alone in the impenetrable fog, Tory hears but doesn’t see the deaths of Seeds like him. Young like him. Wanting to live like him.
