Page 119 of Fallacies

He seems pleased by my question. Glad that I finally asked something specific. “At this current moment, Lucina, I care an awful lot about freedom.” A line forms between his dark brows, and something about the way he says it makes me feel like it’s the most honest thing he’s said all night. “But there’s only one thing I care about more than freedom.”

“Philanthropy?”

His eyes meet mine, swirling with an emotion that stuns me to silence. It’s dark, deep, and charged with an energy I’ve never felt before.

“Retribution,” he says.

I’m not sure how, and I’d still like to deny it, but I sense nothing but truth in his statement. I feel more confident about that answer than about anything else he’s told me.

He wants revenge. But for the Captures? For the Sol?

I have about a million follow-up questions, but they all lead back to,“Who are you?” I ask again, foolishly hoping he’ll give me a straight answer.

“My name is the only thing that belongs to me,” he says, nodding in my direction. “I don’t share it with strangers.”

Curiosity sinks its teeth in me, gripping my train of thought for a fraction of a second before I rip myself free. “Well, I don’t make alliances with strangers,” I reply.

There’s no room for argument in either of our statements. No room for compromise. That should have been the end of it, the severing of this entire interaction, yet I hesitate at the door.

I stare at him, and he stares at me.

There’s finality in my glare and an amused look in his.

Frustration simmers within me, and I use the momentum of it to turn on my heel and pull open the heavy door behind me.

“Lucina.”

My blood boils at his use of my name when he won’t give me his. “What?” I snap, whirling back around.

He gestures to my appearance, and my face heats in embarrassment.

Digging up as much magic as I can muster, I turn myself back into Alesi, cursing myself for having almost forgotten the disguise.

Illusion in place, I don’t bother shutting the door behind me as I take off down the dark hall, pretending that I know where I am or where I’m going.

I feel eyes on me the whole way.

29

Callan

The fire is warm at my back, and my attention is fixed on the stars. They’ve only been fully out for an hour or so, but that’s far too long for my dwindling patience. I keep repositioning myself on an old crate, bouncing my knee as if that will make this go any faster.

“Come on, Cin,” I whisper, leaning forward to brace my elbows on my thighs.

It’s not that I don’t think she’s capable; I do. Wholeheartedly. It’s the risk we took—sending her into completely uncharted water—that’s making it hard to focus on anything else. There was a time when I knew Streatham well. All of us did. But it’s been over twenty years since we saw the inside of the Estate. We sent Lucina in blind.

It’s different than Albatross or initiation. She hadn’t been familiar with those rites, but I was. I knew what to expect, and I knew what it would take to keep her safe. Even in our training sessions, grueling as they might have been, I had the control. I knew exactly what the risk was, and I knew the bounds of what she could and couldn’t handle.

I don’t know this risk. I don’t know what she walked into. No one does. And it’s driving me insane.

It’s only night one—the stars have been out for an hour at most—and I already want to crawl out of my own skin.

Unable to take it any longer, I draw on the well of power at the base of my spine and snuff the light of a small star above me. I replace its glow then steal it again, flashing out one word:

Safe?

Then I watch the star like my life depends on it, panic swelling in my chest the longer it remains untouched. A bright, burning beacon taunting me from the sky.