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“Someone who can destroy you with a mere word. Stop acting like a fool, lest I believe the performance.”
The captains keep pinning each other down with contempt dripping from their dark gazes, but I look past them and to the spot where not a moment ago the man stood gawking at me. Now, a small object twinkles under the rays of the sun.
Tylea mutters my name as I push toward the outer circle of guards. Before I can reach for the bauble attached to a thinning cord, Rev catches my arm. He sweeps up whatever the man has left behind and makes it disappear in an act any illusionist would envy.
“What was it?”
“Nothing for the princess to fret about.”
I level my gaze with Rev’s. Seconds pass, stretching into an eternity as I try not to lose myself in the dark abysses of his eyes. “It wasn’t something over which you should drag that man to my father’s dungeons.”
“He disobeyed an order, Princess.”
A sharp explosion of gunfire breaks the silence, and hatred fills my mouth with its acid taste until I can’t stand it any longer and my words leave my mouth coated with liquid anger. “Something tells me you wouldn’t lose your life if you ever did the same.”
Tylea throws me a tentative glance as I rejoin her side and pull my arm through hers. I can feel Rev’s gaze burning on my face. Or maybe it’s the sun. So, I hold my chin high, my gaze straight, and wait for our procession to move again.
Holstering his gun, Rev doesn’t walk back to my side but takes his place at the head of the squad and sets the pace for the march. My gaze carves a hole in the middle of his broad back, the city fading to fleeting glimpses of boarded-up houses, quaint taverns and crowds vibrating with our passage.
It takes the rest of the trip to the train station to soothe my anger.
Soldiers click their heels together and march to form a corridor as if we were a convoy of prisoners. Yet this time, they search for a threat outside and not within. Men and women in shimmering silks and jewels wound around waists, necks, and heads aren’t used to being pushed out of the way. An indignation blossoms on the lips of a woman with rubies and gold freckling her cheeks. One look at my eyes and whatever she wanted to say is replaced by an apology and a profuse bow.
I look over her shoulder and toward the thick wall of glass splitting the station. A small passage carved between the two sections hosts a squad of guards checking the thin strips of paper that are the tickets and the metal tags everyone must wear around their necks. A symbol of devotion to the empire with a stamped thorny rose and a circlet on one side, it carries the name, provenance, and occupation of its bearer on the other.
A line has formed behind a balding man with a dandyish mustache over his lip who is yet to present his ticket or his tags to the soldier who’s growing impatient with each passing second.
“Someone must have stolen them,” the man shouts, emptying the pockets of a coat too heavy for the stifling heat. A tremble settles in his joints when he spots the guards approaching. “I’ve heard such things happening to others.”
Not paying any attention to his protests, the soldiers guide him through the crowd to a heavily-guarded door. He won’t be leaving it any time soon. Missing identification is not a crime they take lightly.
The guard at the glass wall straightens his back and clicks his heels together when our group approaches, but the excitement dims as soon as we walk deeper into the train station and he lazily waves for the next in line to move forward.
We spill onto the vast platform where a beast of tainted metal spews thick smoke into the air. Opened windows in the dome are too few to clear the smog. It blurs my vision, scratches my skin, and I almost run into Idris’s back as I try to stifle a cough.
“Are you all right?” Tylea mutters.
I nod, fighting another coughing fit scraping on my throat. “Why are we stopping?”
Tylea motions in Rev’s direction who has pulled a blooming rose from the pocket of his trousers and deposits it next to a metal plaque. The artist has carved Evanae’s figure bowing over a burning candle with lines running on both sides of her. It takes a beat for me to realize that those aren’t just lines but names.
When Tylea notices the lost expression on my face, she rolls her eyes. “There was a bloody attack by rebels sixteen…no, seventeen years ago. A bomb went off moments after the train’s arrival. I don’t remember all the details, but it’s said at least six hundred people died that day.”
“Do you think he lost someone?”
Tylea shrugs. “Everyone in The Shadow City has.” Scorn brings her voice to a murmur. “The rebellion leaves grieving victims wherever it strikes without offering the next dawn they promise.”
My sister diverts her gaze as soon as Rev climbs to his feet. When he motions for our group to move, she is ready to follow him, the conversation already forgotten. I dare one last glance at the memorial plaque stretching on both sides of the glass wall. The explosions didn’t spare those who had filled their purses from the hard labors of the less fortunate, any less that it did the ordinary folk. I might not be fearless enough to voice it, but I know my father’s regime should end. As my eyes glide over the countless names, I’m not sure if the price is right when innocent people become victims of the endless fight for the next dawn.
Tylea tugs on my arm and motions at Rev, who offers the conductor a stack of paper strips. Her meaning is clear. We have to go before our father’s guard gets impatient. I offer her a tight-lipped smile as we cross the platform. When we stop next to the car, the heat rolls over my skin in waves and cloaks me in its thick smoke.
The voice of a child travels from the other side of the glass wall. “Is that a princess?”
Holding her mother’s hand with another child on her hip, the girl points a dirty finger in our direction. A few men lift their heads, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the child has seen, but most avert their gazes, holding to their tickets and meager possessions. The mother pulls on the girl’s hand with an indifferent expression and climbs into the car as soon as the conductor lets them pass.
The one on our side hands the stack of tickets back to Rev and motions for us to follow. Most soldiers stay back, but some will travel with us, and they climb into the car with their hands on their weapons. I’m grateful to see Siro and his squad staying back at the platform, but when a soldier with an ugly smile turns to me, I recoil from his outstretched hand. A scar runs across his face from right brow down to his left cheek, splitting his face in two, and revealing another vile creature under Rev’s command.
I ignore his hand and pull myself into the car. Silk wallpaper with golden thread drapes the walls. Each sliding door bears polished brass handles under jeweled scenery carved into its surface. The conductor guides us toward one with a cherry tree with sparkling diamonds for flowers. He picks a long key from his chain and hands it to Tylea with a profuse bow. My sister presses my hand one last time before retiring into her private suite. The conductor bows again, closes the door behind my sister, and starts down the corridor, not even sparing a glance in our direction to check if we’ll follow him. It should have earned Rev’s indignation, but his gaze is focused on the view the windows offer.
