This girl is hurting. She’s lost everything. She needs compassion rather than censure. I nod. “I’ll do my best.”

    “No. You’ll do, plain and simple. And,” she continues, “before you start thinking you’ll scare Dior to draw out Killian, expecting him to help you with your job—”

    “I would never,” I interject, bristling.

    “Don’t,” she finishes. “The last time he helped you, he still had a chance to win your soul. He doesn’t anymore. Which means he’s going to betray you faster than you can say, Please, Killian, no.”

    “You don’t know him,” I say softly. I’ll probably have to repeat the words to everyone in Troika at some point or another.

    “Oh, but I do. I’ve seen how he works firsthand. He’s seduced a lot of girls. What makes you think you’re special to him?”

    “What makes you think I’m not?”

    Her nostrils flare as she huffs and puffs. “I’ve gone against him. I’ve watched my friends die at his hand. I watched Claus die.” Her rage is replaced by grief. “Killian uses, lies and tricks. The only thing you’re going to get from him...is heartache.”

    MYRIAD

* * *

    From: Z_C_4/23.43.2

    To: K_F_5/23.53.6

    Subject: The fruit of our efforts!

    My spy inside Troika informs me Tenley Lockwood will be in the Land of the Harvest today. She’ll be visiting a human you signed. Miss Dior Nichols. The two will be inside a Troikan safe house. The coordinates are attached.

    I’m excited about your next move. Is there anything I can do to help you, Mr. Flynn?

    Might Equals Right!

    Sir Zhi Chen

    MYRIAD

* * *

    From: K_F_5/23.53.6

    To: Z_C_4/23.43.2

    Subject: I’ve got this

    I know exactly what to do to win over Miss Lockwood.

    But there is something you can do to help me. Miss Lockwood might seem as tough as nails, but she’s actually a bleeding heart. After she meets with Miss Nichols, she’ll be desperate to ease the girl’s pain and suffering. She’ll want Gingerbread returned—not just a little slice but the full loaf. If you’ll release the dog, I can show my “affection” by offering the little mutt as a gift. I can use this to my advantage.

    Might Equals Right!

    ML, Killian Flynn

    MYRIAD

* * *

    From: Z_C_4/23.43.2

    To: K_F_5/23.53.6

    Subject: Good thinking!

    I will ensure Gingerbread is released into your care.

    Also, as you know, our precious General Oriana died three days ago in an ambush. Before her death, she mentioned your desire to know the name of the human Fused with your mother and her promise to blaze through red tape after we’ve won Miss Lockwood’s loyalty. (Shhh, just between us, I’m doing my own digging on your behalf.)

    Oh! I’d like Miss Aubuchon to accompany you on today’s mission. I suspect Miss Lockwood has yet to embrace the Troikan concept of forgiveness. Why should she? Miss Aubuchon killed her. If you can, subtly encourage Miss Lockwood to seek revenge. Help her discover the satisfaction of getting even.

    Might Equals Right!

    Sir Zhi Chen

    chapter nine

* * *

    “Without love, action is meaningless.”

    —Troika

    The word heartache loops through my mind, and I shake my head to dislodge it. Everyone has a story, and I will be the author of mine. Every day begins with a blank page. Today, I will fill my page with hope and hustle. One hundred percent, nothing held back.

    In fact, I’ll begin my new story right now.

    The girl who is special to Killian Flynn is going to save the day. She steps through the Veil of Wings.

    I trek under the spray of crimson water, the droplets raining over me. Peace and Light encompass me. I breathe in...out... I’m still moving forward, knowing the others are behind me, and then—

    I fall.

    There’s no time to scream or flail. One moment I’m whooshing across an expanse of blazing stars, pulled by a force I can’t control, the next I’m standing in front of a quaint little farmhouse in Texas with a wraparound porch, shuttered windows and a tin roof.

    My heart pounds as if I’ve run a race. I did it. I returned to the Land of the Harvest.

    A thousand details flood my awareness at once, big and small. In the corner, a basket of strawberries rests at the feet of an ancient rocker. A wealth of pecan trees casts clusters of shade. I can see the individual pieces of bark on the trunks, every grain on the rocker, and the threads used to weave the basket. I can hear the creaking of the rocker as gusts of wind blow, the chirp of grasshoppers and locusts, the scamper of feet as squirrels run for cover.

    Encasing the entire farmhouse and surrounding forest is a dome of jellyair—a faint blue Light that sparkles with diamond dust, just like our sky, keeping Myriadians out. Myriadians can’t even see what’s behind the Light, and if they try to walk through it, they will burn to ash.

    My vision blurs, sand blowing into my eyes. I blink rapidly to clear the Shell’s lenses.

    The wind brushes against me, and the sensation is...odd, as if it hits a wall, and I feel only the vibration of impact. Also, I have no perception of hot or cold. I remain the perfect temperature, outside factors inconsequential.