FOR A tense moment, they stood there, staring at each other. Their roles in life should have taken them on very different paths—Sona as the Damarian wife, Rhi as the Inhuman slave— but their mutual strength and stubbornness had brought them here, instead, to this place, with the same goal burning inside them: freedom.
“If you know where Zeke is, just tell me,” Rhi demanded.
Sona shook her head. “We need to talk. You and me. No one else.”
“Not happening,” Carol said instantly.
“No way,” Amadeus added.
Rhi appreciated their protectiveness, but her teammates were outsiders here. This was between her and Sona. “Fine,” she said. Jella made a noise of protest next to her, but Rhi shook her head.
“Then all of you, come with me,” Sona said, pointing her torch toward the tunnel that led out of the cavern. It was narrow, with car tracks set deep into the stone, and they had to move single-file through it, half stooped in places.
“What is this place?” Amadeus asked.
“The Field of Fire was once a sprawling mountain range, before the ancient Damarians mined it to death,” Sona answered. “The tunnels the miners built are what’s left of their spoils. They lead all the way to the coast, but most people have forgotten about them, so we were able to take them over.”
“We?” Rhi heard Carol mutter to Mantis, who whispered back, “There are at least a hundred of her people, probably more. I can feel them from here.”
Rhi tensed, wondering whether they should be preparing for an attack. Part of her wanted to believe Sona, that she had truly been changed by witnessing the twins’ execution. But all she could see was the image burned into her memory: Sona’s arm raised, her fist thrust in the air obediently as her voice rang out in triumph alongside her father.
Rhi still had the scars along her spine where Miss Egrit had dropped beads of ember gel as punishment for each girl who refused to cheer.
Soon, she thought, picturing Miss Egrit’s gaping smile in her mind, you’ll pay.
But did Sona deserve to pay? That was the question. Was she evil? Was she good? Could she have truly broken free of the poison that was beaten into her?
Sona led them to the left into a huge cavern, this one three times the size of the first—large enough for a small city. Tents and buildings cobbled together from whatever scrap could be scrounged dotted the expanse in crooked rows. Laughter filled the air, and Rhi watched as a little boy chased his sister down one of the rows, their mother following, telling them to slow down. The smell of grilled meat wafted in the air, clotheslines were strung between the houses and tents, and the heat towers set in the makeshift streets glowed softly.
“Welcome to the Hub,” Sona said.
Jella’s hand closed around Rhi’s and squeezed it. Fern had fallen asleep in Jella’s arms sometime during their walk, her cheek smashed against the older girl’s shoulder.
Rhi looked at Fern and knew she couldn’t resent her for Umbra’s sacrifice. All she could do was be grateful to know the love of someone so giving, and hope she’d be worthy of it… and that somehow, someday, she’d be able to touch it—her—again.
Rhi didn’t want to let Jella go as Sona led their group through the lopsided rows of homes. To shield pedestrians on some of the busier “streets,” oiled canvas tarps were strung up under especially drippy spots.
“How many people live down here?” Carol asked.
“Over two hundred, last count,” Sona replied. “We have women and men and people who don’t feel those identities fit their true selves living here. Damarians from all over the planet come to us, seeking a life free from the Keepers and Council, from the strict binary they insist our lives and loves and selves must follow. This place is one of acceptance and learning. Of understanding.” They passed a group of men who nodded their heads in respect as Sona passed. “The Hub is our home, but we have outposts on two other continents as well.”
People peered curiously out of their homes as they passed, but no one spoke to them. Rhi and her group followed Sona down the path to the end of the row, where a crooked sign marked RISE in big block letters stood on a half-metal, half-wood building with a tarp roof.
“The rest of you can stay here. There’s food and drink inside; Lola will give you anything you’d like. Rhi and I will return after we’ve had our discussion.”
Rhi smiled reassuringly at her friends, but an uneasy tension was building. After a nod of approval from Carol, the team disappeared inside the makeshift restaurant. Jella followed with Fern after squeezing Rhi’s hand a final time, but Carol remained on the street, looking up and down at Sona.
“In the museum gardens, you saw what I can do,” she told Sona.
Sona inclined her head, a graceful movement that came only with hours of practice. “I did.”
“Just so we know where we stand,” Carol smiled, a dangerous edge to it that made Rhi feel warm and safe. “I will blast your little tent city to smithereens if you so much as touch her.”
“We will just be talking, Captain,” Sona assured her.
“So glad to hear that,” Carol said, her smile sharpening the threat in her voice. A shiver traveled down even Rhi’s spine.
“We’ll be fine,” Rhi told her.
She followed Sona, leaving Carol standing guard at the end of the street like the soldier she was. The girls ascended the crude steps carved in the cavern wall that led up to a ledge overlooking the expanse of little houses, shacks, and tents. There, Sona led her into another tunnel cut into the stone, this one wider than the last, large enough to stand up in. Rhi drew her jacket tighter around her, Ansel’s book digging into her ribs as she did.
The tunnel opened to a smaller cavern, where a rustic rug woven from leather and rags was spread across the damp stone floor, a desk made from crates and a rough-hewn slab of red stone laid across them. A bed was tucked in one corner, covered with furs that looked like Sona might have tanned them herself.
“Not what you expected?” she asked Rhi, sitting down behind her desk and gesturing to the rickety chair across from it.
Rhi ignored her. “Where is my brother?”
“Please, sit down.”
She remained standing. “I don’t think you understand, Sona.” She began to circle her hands, the tug inside her splitting and growing, sparks gathering in the air. “I don’t have an implant anymore. And that weapon that shuts down our powers? I’m pretty much immune to it at this point.” She stretched her hands out, a rip tearing through the atmosphere. She fed into it, letting it grow, lengthen; it spun darker, closer to Sona.
Sona’s hands gripped the edges of her desk, her eyes wide with fear. “You throw me in that,” she gritted out, “you never find Zeke.”
Rhi let go, and the rip unraveled, closing with a wobble just inches from Sona’s face.
“I’ve had a bad day,” she said, and it wasn’t an apology—it was a warning. “So lay out your terms.”
Sona slumped and sighed—in relief, but also in defeat—and Rhi hated the fact that somehow, she felt for her.
“I didn’t fall off a cliff like the government says, Rhi,” Sona said, leaning her elbows on her desk. “My father pushed me.”
Rhi hadn’t expected that. The perfect Damarian princess— and her father had tried to kill her? She had just one word. “Why?”
“Because he found out what I was doing,” Sona explained. “After the twins’ execution… I was being honest when I told you it changed me. I wanted… I needed answers. My father was preparing me for a political marriage. He wanted me to understand Damarian history to be the best wife I could be to whoever he chose as my husband, so he let me read a lot more than most girls.”
“What does Damarian history have to do with any of this?” Rhi demanded, frustration hooking inside her. “All I want is to know where my brother is.”
“My father tried to kill me because I uncovered the truth about the afflicted and why they died,” Sona said. “And I was close to finding the proof—proof that he once had before it was stolen from him.”
“The truth?” Rhi echoed, still not understanding.
“They’ve always told us that the suns bless only men with the flame,” Sona explained, intoning, “As it is now, and how it always has been, and will always be.”
“Yeah, yeah… Women are too weak to bear it—I know the script,” Rhi waved her off.
“It’s a lie,” Sona said. “Hundreds of years ago, women held the flame, too. And in women, the flame wasn’t limited to just pyrotechnics. I found scant references—sketches of powered women in ancient texts, letters mentioning women with abilities like healing or telekinesis—going back thousands of years.”
“Then what happened?” Rhi asked, thinking about the afflicted and their myth about the woman who fell from the stars. “Why are only men powered now?”
“Because they slaughtered the women,” Sona went on. “The group of men that would form the first Council after the war, they systematically ended every family line that contained the genes that give women the flame. Then they made up a story about a woman from outer space to blame their genocide on. And they told it so well and so many times for so many years that it became ‘history.’”
Rhi stared at her. Sona was sitting there, looking at Rhi like she expected this news was going to shatter her world. But Rhi laughed—harsh, angry, and mocking. Sona jerked back, frowning.
“Seriously? Your dad tried to kill you because you finally figured out that the obviously fear-mongering myth was just that—fake? Of course it’s fake! Of course it’s propaganda! Of course the woman who fell from the stars isn’t real! I figured that out the second or third time they tried to shovel it down our throats. What’s wrong with you that it took you all this time?”
Sona was up out of her chair, both palms flat on her desk, her eyes flashing. “How dare you…” she started to say, but Rhi slammed her own fists down on the desk, leaning into Sona’s face and growling, “Where is my brother?”
“If you’ll actually listen to me and give me what I want, then I can tell you!” Sona roared back.
“Sona.” A male voice cut through their mutual fury, and they both turned as one, which made Rhi even angrier that she was somehow on the same wavelength as Sona. A tall bearded man was standing there, with two little girls—no older than three— holding each of his hands.
Twins. Rhi could see it in their faces. She looked at Sona, wondering whether this was some kind of sick game.
“Girls.” Sona hurried around her desk, bending down to hug them. The man touched her shoulder briefly, and Rhi could see the bonding bracelets that matched Sona’s own on his wrists. This was her husband. Were these her children? “Can you show Rhi your trick?”
The girls exchanged a look—a conspiratorial grin that sent Rhi’s heart reeling. Then the girl on the right flicked her fingers, fire sprouting from them. Her sister giggled, reaching out and snatching the fire from her sister’s fingertips as if it were a piece of candy, and the flame sprouted along her own palm.
Rhi sagged against the edge of the desk, the air punched out of her.
“Excellent work, girls!” Sona smiled. “Now go with Daddy. Get ready for dinner.”
“You all right in here?” her husband asked, side-eyeing Rhi.
“We’re fine,” Sona said firmly.
She kept her back to Rhi until they were gone, and then she let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. “The genetics spontaneously appear mainly in twins, or at least we think they do. I don’t have a lot of data on it other than my own, and a lot of my early journal entries are just, Oh no, my babies are shooting fire out of their fingers!”
“You…” Rhi didn’t know what to say. “Are there more?” she blurted out, thinking of darker repercussions. If Ansel knew about this…
“We have four girls who hold the flame, including my two. And three little boys as well. My girls are pyrotechs, and so are the boys. The Laya twins, they’re fifteen. Gretta can heal people, and Junie can cloak places. Which is why the Keepers haven’t found us.”
Rhi stared at the spot where Sona’s daughters had been, thinking about how they had giggled together. How it had been fun, not frightening, to use their powers. “What are you going to do?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“What are you going to do?” Sona shot back. “You’re in the same position I am. You can choose to look out for the few or to defend all. Neither path is easy. One seems impossible, and both are dangerous.”
Rhi couldn’t answer that—she couldn’t bear to. Especially after the chance to free Umbra had failed because she’d put the all before herself.
Umbra would like Sona, she realized with an uncomfortable jolt. If she were here with Rhi, she wouldn’t have been suspicious like Rhi was. Umbra would be sympathetic. She would help Sona, give her what she wanted, if she had it.
Rhi finally took a seat in the rickety chair, trying not to smile when Sona’s ruddy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What do you want from me?”
Sona leaned against the edge of her desk, folding her arms across her chest. “Years ago, before Ansel was president, he asked you to find something for him—a book. Do you remember?”
“I do,” Rhi replied carefully.
“That book belonged to my father. It’s the last official record of the real history of Damaria. The only one written not by the male victors, but by the few women and men brave enough to record their experiences for posterity, no matter the risk.”
“And you think that if you get this book, you can, what— undo things? Break the system? Punish the Keepers?”
“Truth is power. And fear and hate are taught, Rhi. We aren’t born with it, even if men like my father and Ansel want us to think we are. And if hate is taught, it can be unlearned, and replaced with understanding.”
Sona stared down at the ground, her hands cupping her elbows, almost cradling them, like she’d gotten used to hugging herself for warmth on the cold nights struggling for survival. “I know that to you, it seems ridiculous that a mythic woman cursing the world was so real to me. But think about that— think about all the women across Damaria who are certain that power and choices would destroy them… and about the men who push down their instincts ‘for the betterment of all’—even though that’s a cruel lie. But we’re told, over and over again, that it must be true because there is no other option, even though the system hurts men and women and all who do not subscribe to those labels.
“So you ask what does it matter if I have proof that it isn’t real? That it was a cover-up to explain mass murder? That might be the spark that will fan the true flame to wrest the Keepers’ control away from the Damarians and the Inhumans. If you could help me find the book…” Sona almost pleaded. “It might… no, it will change things.”
The passion in Sona’s voice reminded Rhi of Umbra. She thought of Alestra and Zeke, of their growing baby, unaware of the oppression possibly awaiting her. She thought of her sisters back in the Maiden House. Of the Damarian girls, tucked away in their own Maiden Houses—not as horrific as theirs, but still prisons. Of all the women living on this monstrous planet—Inhuman and Damarian—all of them locked into lives of servitude, all of them forced to give up their daughters.
None of them had a choice. And Sona wanted to give them one.
Which meant Rhi had to make a choice, too.
She had started this journey determined to trust no one. But she had learned that was no way to end it.
Making her decision, she pulled the book out of her jacket, unwrapped it from the plastic that protected it, and held it out to Sona.
“I have to admit, you’ve got stellar timing.”
“Is that—” Sona’s face twisted in confusion melting into astonishment, and her fingers closed around the volume gently, as if she was afraid it would vanish beneath her touch. Her intensity reminded Rhi so much of Ansel’s reaction she had to bite back bile to remember Sona would use it for good—not evil.
Sona stammered, “The title… the star on the cover… This… this is it! I can’t believe it. I just can’t—how did you get this?”
“I broke into Ansel’s house tonight. And burned it down.”
Sona’s eyes widened in shock. “You… what?”
Rhi was at a loss to explain how it happened. She didn’t know how to begin to describe Hepzibah—how her joy and freedom were so infectious, making a person feel like they could do anything. Finally she just said, “It’s a long story. I found the book when I was searching Ansel’s office for information on Zeke, and I remembered the time years ago Ansel had me find it, and I knew it must be important, so I took it with me.”
“This is… you have no idea…” Sona stammered.
“I do,” Rhi cut in. “I gave you what you wanted, Sona. Which is why you’re going to tell me where Zeke is. Now.”
“Of course,” Sona replied, getting up to set the book carefully on the desk, like a precious jewel. “The Resistance has friends inside the government. I got word that the prison transport your brother’s on will be stopping to pick up more fuel cells tomorrow morning. I have the route and the times. You should be able to intercept them.” She pulled a map from a stack on her desk, laying it flat on the stone surface. “I can go over the route with you, if you’d like.”
Rhi leaned forward, her eyes tracking the dark-blue line Sona had traced along the road.
“I’d like that,” she said.