Those fiery eyes. The love she had for me and Safiyya. My grandmother had become a mother to me when my own had left, and a father when he’d been executed. She was the person who had raised me, the person I knew best.
And because of that, I knew what she was telling me to do from her expression.
I shook my head, not willing to entertain what she was asking. I couldn’t let her be killed while I ran away. That wasn’t the person she taught me to be.
“Stop,” I said, my voice careful and clear, meeting the bright blue eyes of the lead excavator. “I’m coming back.”
Winthrop eased his sword away, a sneer pasted on his lips. “Good. Now get out of the water and hand me that bracelet.”
My grandmother’s gaze pleaded with me. “Go,” she mouthed.
“I can’t,” I whispered, barely making a sound. Her eyes were like a tether connecting to mine, and I was unable to look away. I couldn’t just leave her here.
I wouldn’t.
Instead I took a step toward her.
“No!” she screamed, her face twisted with anguish.
Winthrop moved to kick her again, but stopped as a shot rang out, echoing through the forest and landing before anyone realized what had happened.
Red bloomed across Winthrop’s chest as he lifted a hand there, his face leaching of color, blood gushing from between his fingers.
Nani screamed and crawled away from him as his body dropped to the ground.
Shock numbed my limbs. My body swayed with the force of the River but I could barely feel it.
Dead. The lead excavator was dead.
Citadel soldiers cried out, aiming their rifles behind them at the trees, shooting blindly at an unknown enemy. Pandemonium was all around me, but I picked out a familiar shout, which caused my heart to lurch once more.
“Yaseema, get out of here!”
Safiyya.
My eyes found her in the trees, sitting in a thick of branches, her rifle poised and ready.
She looked as though a weak river current could knock her over. A sheen of sweat coated her forehead and her lips were white and cracked.
And yet, that didn’t stop her from firing another shot at a soldier with her rusted rifle.
“Rebels!” shouted Citadel soldiers. Bullets flew at them in response, and I jumped back in surprise. There was more than just Safiyya in the trees, other were Astolans helping her.
Amidst all this panic and screaming and shots, a low voice cut through. “Yaseema, you have to go now.”
My eyes refocused on Nani, now at the riverbank watching me, her hand curled in her dupatta. “You can’t stay here. Cross the River while they are distracted.”
“But—”
“Listen to me, we don’t get a chance like this more than once. We can rebel. We can fight our small battles, chip away at them while they continue to eradicate us all. But even if you don’t come back, this will give us something that’s in short supply these days. Hope.”
She stepped into the River, water soaking her soft indigo kurta as the current flowed around us. The sound of guns faded with the rushing of the water, until it felt like just me and her.
“You will give us the hope needed to start a revolution. And you have to go now, Yaseema, or I fear there will be nothing left of us to come back to.”
A stray shot whizzed past us in the water, and Nani and I ducked down.
“I don’t want to leave you like this.” I clung to her shoulders like I did when I was younger and first discovered my mother had left me.
