From: K_F_5/23.53.6
To: R_O_3/2.17.12
Subject: I’ll go ahead and pat myself on the back
Consider Tenley Lockwood bagged and tagged. She trusts me implicitly, and she wants to be with me. Maybe she already regrets her covenant with Troika. The problem is, she’s going to spend the next year holed up inside Troika, training. That is twelve months—or fifty-two weeks—before she’s sent to the Land of the Harvest on assignment. Twelve months I won’t get to see her or talk to her. Fifty-two weeks I won’t get to “work my magic,” as you like to say.
How am I supposed to convince her to spy for us? Unless…can you trick Troika into sending her on assignment sooner?
Never mind. My apologies for suggesting the impossible. I’ll work my magic in a year, as promised.
Might Equals Right!
ML, Killian Flynn
From: R_O_3/2.17.12
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Never doubt me
I’m a General, Mr. Flynn. The best of the best. I can do anything. Mark my words: you will see Miss Lockwood sooner rather than later. I’ll make sure of it.
In the meantime, you’ll be training our newest recruit. Miss Aubuchon strikes me as resourceful young woman, willing to go the extra mile to get a job done.
Also, you’ve been assigned to a new Leader. Report your progress with Miss Aubuchon to Sir Zhi Chen. Report your progress with Miss Lockwood to us both.
Might Equals Right!
General Rosalind Oriana
From: K_F_5/23.53.6
To: R_O_3/2.17.12
Subject: Is that a tear in my eye?
Thank you for gifting me with such an honor. I foresee zero problems training Sloan, the girl I just murdered. (Let me know if I need to explain sarcasm to you.) Elena and Charles are my Flankers/trainees. Adding a third is overkill, don’t you think?
Considering my recent successes, I have a favor to ask you. Before Madame Pearl Bennett died, she visited the Hall of Records to discover who is Fused with my mother, and where the girl is living in the Land of the Harvest. Will you look into Madame Bennett’s notes? I’d be grateful.
I’m sure I’ll do a better job with Miss Lockwood if I’m focused on her, and only her.
Might Equals Right!
ML, Killian Flynn
From: R_O_3/2.17.12
To: K_F_5/23.53.6
Subject: Aren’t you adorable?
Next time you threaten me—however overtly—I’ll have you returned to the Kennels.
Elena and Charles have been reassigned. As for your mother, I’ll be happy to share her name with you…as soon as you do what you promised with Tenley Lockwood. That is our way. You help me, I help you.
Might Equals Right!
General Rosalind Oriana
“Humility is your protection from self-deception. Pride is your defeat.”
—Troika
I’m bathed in liquid sunshine and bliss. The water doesn’t soak me or even dampen my clothing; it goes through me, somehow cleansing me from the inside out and, for one sublime moment, washing away my problems. Peace settles over me. There’s no room for fear or melancholy.
I breathe in deeply...exhale slowly...and savor every second.
I’m certain Killian will overcome whatever obstacles are thrown into his path. He’s smart. Brilliant, actually. And I’m ecstatic for Archer. He’s entered into the Rest. Who wouldn’t enjoy a permanent vacation from war? I’m confident I’ll overcome my own obstacles and quickly acclimate to my new circumstances...new structures, studies, traditions and people.
I’m not worried about my parents, who are Myriad loyalists, living in the other realm...hating me?
Maybe, maybe not. Before taking her final breath, my mother reconciled with me. My father cursed me before his. No matter. My peace endures. My worth isn’t measured by his feelings for me. I am who I am, and my worth is my worth. Life is that simple and that complicated.
I’m not even worried about the frigid cold I experience whenever Killian touches me. We’ve become two halves of a whole, and we’ll find a way to be together.
A hard weight slams into me from behind and knocks me forward. I stumble, coming out the other side of the waterfall, my precious peace instantly replaced by worries and concerns, my warmth by cold and my hope by despair. Tremors ignite in my belly and quickly spread through the rest of me.
Deacon, despite his dislike of me, helps steady me as a guy who looks to be my age emerges from the Veil.
“Sorry, sorry,” the guy says with a slight British accent. “Absolutely my fault, yeah. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He has dark blond hair and amber eyes—one of which is ringed with black. He’s been in a fight. The battle we just left?
Guilt pricks at me.
There’s something familiar about him, but I’m too jumbled by my wayward emotions to solve the puzzle. Despite the bruising, he’s pretty enough to make a storybook princess weep with envy. At roughly five foot ten, he’s not much taller than me. However, the breadth of his shoulders allows him to engulf me.
His gaze slides to Deacon, and I realize I’ve been staring at him in silence. “New recruit?” he asks, amused, and my cheeks heat.
“Yes,” Deacon replies, his voice tight. He pats the guy on the shoulder and seems to fortify himself for an uncomfortable conversation. “There’s something you need to know, Victor. Archer is...he’s been...”
Victor holds up his hand and releases a heavy breath. “I’ve been told, but I refuse to mourn. I’ll be too busy fighting for his return.”
Victor winks at me. “Welcome home, newbie. You’re going to love it here. Come by my apartment later, and I’ll personally make sure of it.”
Deacon gives the guy’s chest a light punch. “The sexual harassment seminar is going well, I see.”
A grinning Victor salutes him before