“No,” she says. “He only tried to weaken you. And he only wounded me, so no one would know I’d helped him. He did me a favor.”

    She can’t be so foolish. She can’t.

    “Poor Ten.” Victor smiles, smug. “Outsmarted and outplayed.”

    “You want peace, Ten,” Kayla continues, desperate to make me understand. “This is how we get it.”

    “This? This?” I shout. “You mean slaughtering innocents?”

    “A few will die to save many,” she rushes out. “Victor promised me. Your Light is going to be dimmed with Penumbra, and the realms will be on equal footing.” Her gaze pleads with me to consent to my own downfall. “The fighting will stop.”

    Fool! “Light and dark cannot coexist.” Archer and Killian have said the same to me on multiple occasions. “I can’t be infected with Penumbra, only killed.”

    “No.” She shakes her head, vehement. “Victor promised.”

    “Ten is right. At some point, we are going to kill her. But don’t worry, baby. You won’t be around to see it.” He aims and fires, a bullet nailing her between the eyes.

    “No!” I jump up. In that moment, I don’t care what she’s done or how terribly she’s hurt me. I only want her to be okay.

    I hurry to her side—or try to.

    Victor fires at my feet, stopping me in my tracks. “Stay where you are.”

    “How could you hurt her?” I grate.

    “Easily. She served her purpose. Now toss the swords in my direction.”

    I hesitate. There are no other Troikans nearby. None that I can see, anyway. They were called away to fight the threat outside.

    Victor is smart. He knew exactly where to draw me.

    Did the armies put more soldiers above this area, knowing he would lead me to it? Knowing I would need only a single ray of Light to start a conflagration?

    I lick my lips and toss the swords...but only a few feet away from me.

    Scowling, he stomps over to kick the blades behind him. While he’s distracted, I reach up to rub my thumb against Killian’s necklace. I know he can’t get inside the realm, but maybe, just maybe, he can pinpoint my location and help clear the area above the Tower of Might.

    I just have to keep Victor talking long enough for Killian to arrive.

    “Why haven’t you killed me already?” I ask. “Didn’t you learn your lesson about letting me live?”

    He smiles without humor. “I’ve decided to make covenant with you.”

    I snort-laugh. “Are you kidding? Why would I ever agree? Why would you want me to?”

    “Why else? Power. With you on my side, the Prince of Doves will have no choice but to surrender to Myriad. The war will end, as you claim to desire, and I will take my rightful place in Troika. The new Secondking.”

    I would rather die. “You’ll never have enough power to become king.”

    His comm glows, but he pays it no heed. “Choose, Ten. This is your only means of survival. And you want to survive, don’t you? You want to continue fighting me, at the very least. To ensure you save your friends from my wrath.”

    Every decision matters. Every action has a consequence. What you sow, you will reap. As he deceived Kayla, he has deceived himself. “Love gives rather than takes. By saving myself, I would be condemning others. That, I won’t do.”

    A minute beam of Light slips through the shadows above, shining a few feet in front of me. Killian is here!

    Victor frowns and glances up at the sky.

    Now! Heart hammering, I dive for the Light.

    chapter twenty-seven

* * *

    “A problem should never be the sole focus of your life.”

    —Troika

    I land in the center of the beam, going from cold to hot in an instant, suddenly jacked up as if I’ve just been plugged in to a generator. The brand on my arm flickers once, twice...glows...and the Grid begins to buzz in the back of my mind.

    First up: disarming Victor.

    He plans to destroy Troika from the inside. He must be stopped.

    As I straighten, he realizes his mistake—never lose track of your enemy. He adjusts his aim and squeezes the trigger, but I’m on a roll, literally, and the shot soars over my shoulder.

    I swipe up my swords and come up swinging.

    Boom, boom. The bullets whizz past me. I strike at him. We move in tandem, one of us attacking, the other dodging. I manage to drive him backward.

    “You’re not going to beat me.” I see my victory playing along the Grid, leading my every action.

    “Wrong. You’re already beaten.”

    A lie. Just another in a long line.

    In a single, fluid motion, he reloads his gun. Another bullet heads my way. I duck, beginning to detect a pattern to his movements, as if he’s dancing to music I cannot hear. Step, step, duck left, duck right, fire. Step, step, duck.

    Using my Light as fuel, I pick up the pace, changing the beat. I block and press my swords together. With a swipe of the staff, he falls to the side, but also fires another shot. He lands and leaps at me. I dart in the opposite direction, going low, as if I mean to knock his feet out from under him.

    When he jumps, I jerk the staff up instead of down, hitting his calves to disrupt his balance. He falls again. I yank the staff apart and twirl a sword, cutting off his foot before he lands. Thud. He’s on the ground, reaching for his spurting stump. I cut off his hand, the gun still in his grip.