Carrying a luminary while insulted

My jaw hurts from clenching it for hours while Markus and I packed up Lillian's things. I was released from RSC interrogation just in time for her parents to send back word about her body being sent home with all of her belongings. Now we're standing in the middle of the road in Chantara, outside Skinsmiths, trying to build up the courage to go inside.

I hate delivering bad news.

"Come on," I sign to Markus, and he follows me inside the body art parlor.

All of the artists look up at the bell ringing above the door, but once the other three recognize us, they all turn to the fourth in the room. Skye stands up from her work table, and given her splotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, she already knows what we're here to tell her.

Doesn't make this any easier.

She meets us on the other side of the counter, but she walks back out the door we just came through, forcing us to follow.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself when she finally stops in the alley next to the shop and turns to face us. "I know," she croaks out. "They post the death roll in the courtyard." Then she chokes back a sob. "At least I don't have to keep checking it and worrying."

I pull her into a hug, because there isn't really anything else to do. Markus joins us a second later, managing to wrap both of us up in his arms, and it's nice, getting to stand in our grief with people who understand.

She wipes her eyes when she eventually pulls away. "Thank you both, for coming to tell me in person."

"Of course." Markus squeezes her shoulder. He pulls a piece of parchment out of his pocket and hands it to her. "This is her parent's address, if you wanted to reach out."

She looks at him with wide eyes as a small smile creeps onto her face. "Thank you." She tucks the paper into her own pocket, then looks between the two of us. "Do you want to come in? Get something done?"

"Only if Joan has an idea on how to memorialize Lillian for us," Markus teases.

I roll my eyes and jab him in the ribs with my elbow, which only makes him laugh. "I haven't thought about it yet." Doesn't mean I didn't bring my small bag of money from my room, though.

"I've got that covered," Skye says gently. "Come on back."

She pulls out a drawing of a sunrise—"It's not a sunset. Don't give me that look, Markus, I don't know how they're different, I just know that they are"—cresting over the horizon, with long sunbeams coming off of it. "Lily wanted it for after graduation." She gives us both a stern look. "So wear it proudly when you cross that stage, or whatever the fuck it is you riders do when you finally make it out of there alive."

"I can do that," I sign back. There's no guarantee I'll make it to graduation, but I'll wear the art proudly as long as I live.

"Which will be a very long time," Astar reminds me.

"Any changes you want to make?"

I shake my head, eyes tracing over the lines slowly, reverently. "Will you do it in gold?" For my first friend in the quadrant, too, that Lillian reminded me so much of.

Aurelie—golden.

We decide to get it on our right biceps, just above the crook of our elbow; easy enough to keep covered while it's healing, and not easily agitated.

"You know, for my first tattoo, it's a good one," Markus says as we exit Skinsmiths, our hearts and pockets lighter.

"It's a good contrast with your relic."

"Exactly." He flexes both arms, which makes me roll my eyes, but his face goes slack for a second before he clenches his jaw. "Third years are being called to fill the midland posts. I have to go."

I furrow my brows. "Is everything okay?"

"Hopefully." He shakes his head, then gives me a wide smile. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone."

There's a bad taste in my mouth as I sign, "Be safe."

"Always am." Then he's taking off at a run for the college, and all I'm left with is a sore arm and a pit in my stomach.

—

The knock on my door before the sun has completely risen is never a good sign—and given the defeated look Imogen is giving me on the other side of the wards, it's about to get worse.

I pull her into my room with no resistance on her part. "You're back."

She nods. "Third years got back last night." Then she clenches her jaw. "Markus didn't make it."

The pit in my stomach rises until it's a lump in my throat. Fuck. I knew this was going to happen, and I didn't say anything, I didn't warn him—

"How the fuck did Varrish get to him all the way out there?" I sign, mostly to myself, but Imogen still sees.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I arch a brow at her. "All of my squadmates have been dying, Mo."

"Yeah, I know that, Jo, it's hard not to. What does Varrish have to do with any of this?"

Oh. That—that's a much bigger conversation. "Do you have any other plans this morning?"

She shrugs. "Violet's in land nav, your ribs are broken, and I'm not running by myself."

I tell her everything that's been going on—how Desmond had been dead before he hit the ground during flight training; how Varrish sent Trevor Mendenhall after Geoffrey before he tried to kill me; how Mikayla and Lillian both died with their throats slashed exactly like mine; how Varrish had me in RSC interrogation training twice as long as anyone else; and now, how Markus is dead after the third years got called to the midlands posts, even though that's supposed to be a relatively safe assignment.

Imogen rubs at the back of her neck, a frown on her face. "I would say you're reading too much into this, except he actually admitted to you that this is all his doing." She runs her hand down her face next, then straightens her shoulders with resolve. "So let's put a stop to it."

I give her a long look. "And how do you propose we do that? Report him to the General and tell her we gave her a bold-faced lie at Graduation? So she can, what, have all the rebellion kids killed for treason? Fuck no."

She just rolls her eyes back at me. "So what's your big plan, then, Jo? Isolate yourself from everyone to keep them out of harm's way? Because that's been working so well."

"I don't know, okay?" My chest heaves as I finally take a breath, the anger I didn't realize was building under my skin slowly dissipating into a steady thrum of guilt. "I knew this would happen, so I have to live with it, and I don't know how to fix it."

She pinches her eyebrows together as she leans toward me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Whatever it is, you don't have to do it alone, okay?"

I meet her eyes and swallow thickly around the lump in my throat, ignoring the way the tattoo on my bicep aches. "Okay."

—

Third Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing is the smallest squad at formation. After Gauntlet and Presentation today, we'll still be the smallest, but then it's only two more days before all Third Squads will be disbanded to bolster the numbers of the other squads.

Thank the gods.

Captain Fitzgibbons finishes the death roll, and then it's time for the final Gauntlet run. All of the dread I've been feeling for today increases tenfold now that we're actually moving toward it. First Wing starts through the western gate first, followed by Second, then Third.

"Fourth Wing!" Dain calls out from near the gate. "Move out!"

We file off; Flame Section, then Claw, then Tail. Second Squad goes before us, so I'm right behind the last two in the squad: Aaric and Sloane. I hate that I'll have to watch the last of my first years, my brother, and my dead boyfriend's sister all climb the death trap that claimed Aurelie's life a year ago, but it's in my job description. At least Rhi will be there with me.

It takes over an hour for the other wings to get through their first-years, and then First Squad is up. There's not much I can tell my first years that they don't already know, but I still sign a couple words of encouragement. "You've all done this ten times already. You can make it eleven."

Lizbeth looks a little green—almost the same color as her hair—but she nods. "Will you be watching?"

"From right here."

"Oh good," Everett says with a roll of his eyes. "That brings so much confidence."

Kit slaps him upside the head. "Fuck off, Dosirla."

He scowls at them, but keeps any more comments to himself.

Second Squad starts up the Gauntlet, and Rhiannon and I are both holding our breath. She murmurs the name of each of her first years to me, since I don't know any of them, but the only ones I remember are Visia—because she was a first year with us—and Lynx.

Sloane is second to last. She slips on the buoy balls and the chimney, but she makes it to the top without touching any of the ropes.

Then it's Aaric.

I never got to watch any of his practices, but he always assured me he handled the Gauntlet just fine. He never told me he practically sprinted up the whole thing with hardly a sweat. He runs at the vertical ramp, then throws himself over the edge and lands on his feet beside Dain without even a glance in his direction.

"I think he broke Liam's record," Rhi whispers to me, and I think she's right. "Maybe even the Gauntlet record."

"Don't let him hear you say that, his ego is big enough," I sign back with a slight smile.

Professor Emetterio calls up Third Squad, and lines them up accordingly: Kit first, Everett second, Lizbeth last. Kit goes through without issue—I wouldn't say they fly up the course, because they're very meticulous about their actions, but they never falter. Everett slips considerably on the chimney, but he makes it to the top and up the vertical ramp eventually. Lizbeth does well—she's worked on her footwork every week during our gym time, and it's obvious. She hardly looks down for the log staircase, her feet are sure and fast, and she even laughs as she starts up the chimney.

She slips at the same spot Everett did, but unlike Everett, she doesn't find a new grip. She slips again, and before she can adjust her hands, her foot falls off the wall entirely and she falls to the bottom of the cliff, her scream wrenching through the air.

Her body is unmoving once the dust settles.

"I'm so sorry," Rhi whispers beside me, but I barely hear it.

Only three of us left.

At least there are designated attendants to transport the bodies to the morgue.

I follow Rhiannon up the stairs on the side of the ridgeline to the flight field and stop to hug Sloane and Aaric—congratulating him on the new Gauntlet record and his freshly earned 'fastest Gauntlet run' patch—before I continue on to my squad.

All two of them.

"Stay at least seven feet apart," I sign to Kit and Everett. I know Bodhi and Aura will go over all of this with them again, but I can't just send them into Presentation with nothing. "Straight walk through. Don't be stupid and you'll be fine."

Famous last words.

—

Third Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing is one of the first squads to walk through the meadow—one of the few times having a small squad is beneficial. I stand beside Bodhi as Everett and Kit start through the meadow to the one hundred and seventeen dragons waiting for them.

A roar sounds past the trees, making me jump and Bodhi swear under his breath. "That's the third one today, and we're only on the fifth group."

"They're testy."

"You can say that again," he mutters, then juts his chin out toward where Second Squad is lined up. "I bet you're excited for Aaric to bond."

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "You have no idea. I can bother him in his room, instead of him bothering me in mine."

He throws his head back and laughs, and I'm inclined to join in, but the smile dies on my lips as soon as I see Everett run out of the meadow.

Just Everett.

That's two.

I meet him halfway, Bodhi right on my heels, and catch him by the shoulders as he trips. "What happened?" he asks him.

"Kit attacked me." His voice is hoarse, and he coughs deeply into his elbow. "We were almost out when they got me in a chokehold. I—I managed to get out of it and step away, then this Orange stepped out of line and torched them." He holds up his arm and I hiss at the burned-away sleeve and the blistering skin now exposed. "I barely got out of the way in time."

"Glad you did," I sign, then look at Bodhi. "I'll take him to the healers."

He nods at the pair of us. "Let Cuir know if you need me."

"I will." He walks off to escort Second Squad, and I stick to Everett's side. "Need help?"

He shakes his head, his brown hair singed at the tips. "I can walk."

I worry at my lip the entire walk back, mulling the story over in my head. Everett easily had four inches of height on Kit, and at least twenty pounds. Maybe if Kit was walking behind him, but even still, Everett never had any trouble breaking out of chokeholds in our mat time. So why the hell was there a struggle?

Why the hell would Kit attack him in the first place?

We get across the field and all the way down the stairs when Everett speaks up again. "I can't believe there's only two of us left."

I frown. "I know."

Then he nods. "Don't worry—it'll only be one of us shortly."

What?

He swings at me, and the only reason the dagger he's holding doesn't end up in my chest is because I twist out of the way enough it gets buried in my arm instead.

What the fuck is he doing?

"Secrets die with the people who keep them," he mutters, then he rips the dagger out of my arm and swings again. "I'm glad that dragon stepped out of line when I attacked Kit—it made the clean up so much easier."

I see red. Aetos got to one of my squadmates. How long has Everett been planning this? Since the beginning? Is it only recently?

Instinct more than anything throws me backward, away from his dagger. The force with which he's swinging concerns me, but it seems he didn't learn enough from Lillian before she died.

All power, no precision.

I grab his wrist and twist, forcing him to drop the blade, then I grab it for myself and stab it into his neck before I can think twice about it.

Oh gods.

I killed him. I killed my squadmate. He was my responsibility, and I just put a knife through his neck.

That's three.

"He attacked you, Little One. You defended yourself against a murderer. You are blameless."

Everett's body falls to the ground, and I scramble back, staring at the blood on my hands. "Cuir..."

"Help is coming." Astar pulses warmth down our bond as he retreats from my mind.

I look up at the stairs, and Bodhi is making his way to me, deep lines set between his eyebrows as he runs. "Jo..."

"He attacked me," I sign. "I swear, Bodhi, it was self defense."

He squeezes my elbow, his eyes unmoving from mine. "I believe you." Then his eyes move down. "Fuck, Joan. How's your arm?" He brushes his fingers against my left arm, murmuring an apology at the hiss it pulls from my lips. "It'll need stitches."

I nod, pulling myself away from his grasp. "The body?"

"I'll take care of it." His lips turn down in a frown, but his eyes are still soft. "I'm...I'm really sorry, Jo."

"Me, too." I nod again, then Conceal myself and continue on to the healers for a completely different reason.

Sempel, one of the healers from my land nav team, greets me at the door and leads me to one of the few empty beds. "You okay with me doing your stitches, or do you want someone higher up?"

"You stitched Ashton up just fine," I sign back, my left arm moving as little as possible. "I'll let you handle this."

"High praise," he murmurs. "Get comfortable, I'll grab what I need."

I prop a pillow up behind me and sit against the wall, uncaring of any dirt I get on the sheets from my boots. He gives me a long look at the mess I've made, but when I just stare back at him, he takes a seat beside me without further comment. "I need to clean it first. Here." He hands me a vial of pain tonic, and doesn't balk when I only drink half of it. "This is going to sting."

All things considered, Sempel works quickly and quietly. He doesn't bother with idle small talk, he just sits, does the work, and lets me leave with instructions to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed, or sooner if it starts to get irritated. "Keep it clean, keep it wrapped, and you'll be just fine."

I start back up to the Riders Quadrant with only one thought on my mind:

Everett was right—there's only one of us left.

—

a/n: am i entirely pleased with this chapter? no. am i so excited for the next one? abso-fucking-lutely. reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)