Page 203 of Fallacies

My stare flashes to Grey. His expression is grim, and there’s guilt there, in the dip of his brows. It hadn’t been there when he first told me about the Lure, but it is now, and suddenly I feel small. Too small to dissect the big emotions warring within me, and maybe that makes me a coward. If it does, I don’t care.

Looking out past the bunker, I squint into the slowly rising sun. “We can’t have this conversation here.”

Callan steps into my field of vision. “Where’s your necklace, Lucina?”

I’m forced to look back at him when he makes evading his eye contact nearly impossible.

I had wanted to know if he knew about the Lure, and here I am with the chance to ask, but for some reason, that question stays put in my heart. It doesn’t want to come out, and I think deep down…deep, deep down….It’s because I’m afraid of the answer.

Maybe that’s why I left my necklace in the servant tunnels beneath my mother’s room—tucked into the blankets that I was once wrapped in.

The only way to know if Callan knew…was to take it off. To see if he noticed.

And he did.

But I meant what I said about coming back, and while I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, I do know that I can’t walk away like this. With this horrible lump in my throat and splintering fissure in my chest.

This isn’t how I want to leave things with him—I can’t say goodbye like that. I want something sweet to remember. I want to close my eyes at night and see the dimples in his smile, not the hurt in his eyes. I don’t want to remember the anger in this moment. I want to remember the love.

Because I do love Callan. Beneath it all, in the deepest parts of me, I do.

I open my mouth to remind him as much, taking a soft step towards him. “Callan, I⁠—”

Something flies by in my peripheral. Black. Faster than an arrow.

And just like that, our fleeting moment of peace vanishes into absolute chaos.

47

Lucina

The blast strikes Grey in the leg, taking him to the ground, and Pax screams, jumping in front of the former Captain.

Callan moves, charging at the first Rogue he sees while I spin on my heel, counting five of them cresting the hill.

When the sun hits their faces, I see the raw and irritated skin around their yellow eyes, nail marks scratched into their cheekbones.

It was Salem’s idea to blind them, so I gave it all I had, nearly killing myself in the process. It was the only thing we could think of to do to distract them. To buy the Sol more time.

And it appears our time has run out.

The Hound rushes into action, spearing two of them to the ground before they can release the strikes gathering in their hands.

Callan has one, and so does Pax—who manages to fight them off while keeping himself firmly planted in front of Grey as he struggles to get back to his feet.

Which leaves one for me.

Diving headfirst into my power, I find a big vacant pit where Sol magic is supposed to be. I scrounge for anything of use, but I don’t have time to search or replenish.

The Rogue in front of me creeps forward, grinning as if she’s already won.

My father’s magic will have to do.

His power is always there, seemingly endless, and I can tell it enjoys when I’m left with no choice but to reach for it. Rogue power taunts me as it flows through my bloodstream, crackling and biting like frost in the coldest winter. It doesn’t take more than a heartbeat for shadows to gather at my feet.

I dodge her first blow—a spear of black, aimed at my chest—and I throw one back, clipping her shoulder as she barely bolts out of the way.

The grunts and familiar sounds of magic cracking are the only indication that the others are still fighting. I’m not worried about Salem as much as I am about Pax and Grey. Callan’s always been an unstoppable force, and he seems to have enough anger to fuel him into the next century.