Page 25 of The Infinite Glade
And the Evolution would bring back knowledge to all. The Cure would bring memories back, too. Alexandra looked at the children and the one they called Roxy at the tail end of the deck. They ogled at Alaska’s sunset over the mountains beyond the ocean, more than any Pilgrim of the Maze ever did. It was decided. They would be her new faithful followers, and the two soldiers, her Evolutionary Guard. Whether they wanted to or not.
An unearthly sound arose from the bowels of the ship.
Alexandra held on to the railing as theMaze Cutter’s bottom scraped Alaskan rocks in the shallow water. There was a terrible squeal, a crunch. She whipped around to Minho. “I told you this is too big! Hold steady and move to the middle of the narrows!” She lifted the bottom of her cloak and stomped over to Minho. Even in the dark, an idiot like Mannus could avoid steering right into sure destruction.
“Do you want to steer?” Minho quipped as he adjusted the boat.
She didn’t care if the ship fell apart getting them to the Villa, they just needed toget there.Alexandra’s plan was simple: hunker down in the Villa. Let the war pigs die down. Get all of the destruction and burning out of their system. The Goddess would focus all of her energy on creating thenewwhile they focused on destroying theold.
“Would have been a much smoother trip on a Berg.” The soldier stared at Alexandra, maybe an attempted threat, but his words were no weapons to a Goddess.
“The Berg?” She shook her head at the stubborn Orphan. “Your eyes only tell you what theysee. And what youseeis never the whole truth.” The boat steadied again without trouble. “When you use the simplest form of your DNA, sight and stubbornness, you’re no better than those at the bottom of the Flare Pits.”
“My sight is good enough to know that you’re a liar.” He sure liked challenging her, but she wouldn’t be bothered by him. “Impressive . . . to kill the Great Master, though.” He shrugged. “And before you tell me my eyes saw wrong: hewasdead . . .” The young man paused. “I went back to check.”
Alexandra didn’t care about the ridiculous title Mikhail gave himself. Titles in themselves were worthless. And Minho could tell anyone on the ship anything he wanted. They wouldn’t believe him. She already had control over them. All of them. She was their one true God. She’d seen it happen too many times to doubt, although her subjects hadn’t always been quite this easy to manipulate.
“You didn’t know about the Great Master, did you?” Minho caught her off guard. “I imagine the Godhead wouldn’t know about the Greatest Master of the Remnant Nation.”
“Oh, I knew him well.” She shrugged. “That man had many names. All of which were false.” For years, Alexandra’s gut had burned with the belief that Mikhail was undeserving. “What do you know of him as ‘The Great Master’?” The Goddess would find out what she could of Mikhail’s bastard nation, even as he walked through the Infinite Glade of Death.
“Only the most powerful leader, Head of the Remnant Nation. Above all the Grief Bearers and armies built to destroy the Godhead.” The boy kept his eyes on the waters ahead.
“I’m surprised being as weak as he was, that he influenced such a strong army.” The destruction that Mikhail had rained on her city truly did shock her. Damn Mikhail and his maddened, muddy-mind. “No one saw through him to his weakness?”
“No one saw him at all . . .” Minho turned to her. “The Bearers of Grief never saw his face. Only his cloak in the Golden Room of Grief.”
What an interesting way to command an army. Through hiding, weakness.
“Coward.” She almost wanted to spit after that word, but she wouldn’t. “And what a disgusting name for a place.” She rolled her eyes. Times like this made her realize how truly far the Evolution had to travel. Her Pilgrims in Alaska would have evolved, but the rest of humankind seemed far too easily fooled to ever dig themselves up out of their ignorance-cloaked existence. She sighed with sadness then looked ahead for the distinctive pine trees signaling the Villa, all while reciting the digits and running new neural pathways in her brain. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 . . . She kept her eyes focused on the calm waters ahead. “How many hundreds of soldiers took orders from a maddened Crank thinking he was a Master?” She laughed, with as much condescension as she could muster.
“Thousands,” Minho answered.
She stopped laughing. The orphan suddenly pulled her Pilgrim’s cloak and twisted it tight against her back until Alexandra felt something cold against her skin. “For every hundred you might see there’s a thousand you won’t see coming,” he whispered into her ear. Alexandra looked for the others but they weren’t in sight. She tried to step forward but it only tightened the cloak around her neck. “I could kill you right now with just one stab, right here.” He flattened the blade of his cold knife against her skin. “Or I could barely pierce your kidney, giving you a slow and painful death.” He pivoted the blade so she could feel its point. Minho twisted the cloak even tighter. He pushed the tip of the knife into her skin, the cold of the blade turned to heat.
Her mind instantly went back to the pain she’d felt when Nicholas first brought her to St. Petersburg. Theprocess to become righteous, he’d called it. Removing all the toxins that she had knowingly and unknowingly ingested through her mouth, her nose, and skin over the years. Only the pain she’d felt in her kidneys from that removal of the unrighteous could compare to Minho’s blade, now. The Goddess reached for the captain's wheel. “The others . . . they’ll revolt.” She choked the words out. “They’ve traveled so far to see me, to be a part of the Cure . . .” She struggled for each breath as the cloak squeezed her neck.
The soldier twisted it ever-more tighter and whispered into her ear. “They’d get over it quicker than you’d think.”
Alexandra couldn’t help but smirk in a way, at how easily the one they called Minho could kill her, but decidedly didn’t. Something about him reminded her of a young Mikhail, and instead of being threatened by him, she respected the orphan. Unlike Mikhail, maybe this boy was deserving of his name: Minho. A name that carried a lot of weight, a lot of history.
Perhaps Alexandra finally had an equal.
Someone not so precious and fragile about life and death.
But one who could guardherswhen needed.
And in time . . . she could train Minho to join her. She hadn’t anticipated losing her Evolutionary Guard, the Pilgrims who adored her, and even the ones who feared her. Minho twisted the cloak, the fabric impossibly tighter than before. Maybe he’d slice her head clean off.
She cleared her throat and whispered, “You won’t kill me. You’re too curious.” She reached to pull at the neck of her cloak and free her airways.
“I know all I need to know about you.” He didn’t give with the chokehold.
“Oh, but I have so much more to teach you aboutyourself . . .” She pushed out each word without being able to take a breath back in.
Minho finally released her with a shove.
The Goddess smirked again. “So, you’ll join me . . .” The soldier, the children, even the one they called Roxy, would soon learn the true lessons of the Godhead. The Flaring Discipline be damned, Alexandra would rebuild her followers and save the path of the Evolution.
