Endgame
What I’ve learned is that the truth is often far worse than the lies.W. Wells – 2163.08.26
On the rare nights Christian Avalos would come home, he spent his evenings patiently teaching Maia the game of chess. He would carefully arrange the rough, hand-carved pieces on the wooden board. One white and one black pawn hidden in his hands for her to choose. She giggled each time he revealed the white, cursing under his breath and mumbling not to repeat it in front of her mother.
Nothing more than chance. She was too young then to understand, so all of it was chance.
Even now, as the pieces slowly took their positions on the board around her, Maia still remembered his first lesson.
You’ll never know what your opponent is thinking, only what options they have. Your advantage is knowing they’ll always choose the move to end the game.
In one move, she would have him in check, and just as quickly, lose everything. A lesson she didn’t understand until now. She sat with Mr. Foster, exhausted from the hours spent tending to the sick and dying rebels who survived the arduous journey back to Portico. Two cramped rows of metal cots lined both walls of the infirmary. Sheer curtains were drawn to allow the patients a semblance of privacy while they cried themselves to sleep.
It was then that Maia realized their bruises would fade and their bodies would scar long before they healed.
The wooden chair creaked as she leaned back from the desk, allowing herself a dangerous moment alone with her thoughts. No matter how many times she thought back to her last meeting with Orion, even knowing he didn’t agree with Rowan returning to Portico, none of it could have prepared her for his betrayal. She now understood why her father had cursed each time she drew white.
Orion had the advantage of the first move, which meant she had to figure out what options came next. Closing her eyes, she rubbed the tension building in her forehead. She needed Rowan, and hated herself for being the reason he was gone.
What would he think of her decision to bring the deserters here? What would her father think of his daughter being one of them?
The door to the infirmary groaned open behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Rafe crowding the threshold.
“Aquila is looking for you,” he whispered, hesitating to step any farther into the room.
She glanced at Mr. Foster, chin tucked into his chest and eyes closed. With so many injured, they had been covering moonlight shifts in the infirmary. This wasn’t worth waking him. He deserved his peaceful sleep. Grabbing her jacket, she followed Rafe outside.
“Whatever the traitor told Aster’s team worked. They secured the weapons and more deserters,” Rafe said, bathed in the orange glow of the lantern hanging above the door.
“He’s back?” she asked, wondering why Rafe was here instead of him.
“Yes, went straight to the manor for debriefing, like he was told.”
The harsh bite of winter nipped at her ears, and she lifted the collar of her jacket. “Is that what I’m supposed to do now?”
“That’s protocol. Not that you care,” he said, removing his gloves from his jacket and offering them to her.
She looked down at them suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
There was a moment of hesitation before he pulled the gloves back, striking them against his palm in thought. “I’m trying to be nice, but I’m second-guessing it now.”
The conflict in his kindness tugged at the corner of her lips. There would never be a day they weren’t at each other’s throats, and there was comfort in that. “It’s probably for the best.”
He sent her a side eye, but seemed to appreciate the sarcasm. “Aquila’s probably gonna give you a medal or some shit anyway.”
“I can add it to my wall.”
A snort escaped him, and he shook his head. “You’re fucking insufferable.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Maia said, turning on her heels and starting towards Aquila’s manor.
The guards nodded to Maia with the same respect given to General Winter just weeks ago. She pushed open the doors to find Aquila sitting alone across from the parlor fireplace. He looked up, motioning for her to take one of the gold-laced, high-back chairs.
The hard cushions forced her shoulders to uncurl in a way that felt vulnerable. So instead, she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the carved-mahogany armrest and picking at a hangnail.
“What made you choose to join Portico, Maia?”
The hairs stood on the back of her neck. His question felt like an accusation she couldn’t afford. Panic took control of her thoughts, making it impossible to form an acceptable answer.
But as her gaze roamed from the heavy bags under his eyes to the tremoring glass of whiskey in his hand, she realized he no longer had the strength for strategy. This was nothing more than curiosity. Something she understood too well.
“To right some wrongs from my past, sir.”
“And have you succeeded?”
Him still breathing meant she hadn’t. “I’m beginning to think it might not be possible.”
“I believe you’re right.” He turned to the marble fireplace, twirling a thick ring around his bony finger while lost in thought. “I’ve made powerful enemies in my time, and have many regrets. But the young man I found in a shantytown years ago will always be my greatest. Christian Avalos was someone I truly believed would one day lead Portico, but instead, he chose to form a rebellion against me. His betrayal is a wound that will never heal, and his death hangs over me like a blade.”
Hearing her father’s name from the man who ordered his death turned her blood into venom. The poison spread through her, making her lethal.
She imagined the look on Aquila’s face as she stuck her dagger deep into his hollow chest.
The jaundice of his skin fading to white as she whispered her true name into his ear.
The moment he realized she was the blade.
She gripped the armrest of her chair, a temporary antidote to the hatred churning within.
“As you said, some wrongs you cannot right, and Orion is one of them. He’s as ruthless as Tala—two of the most blood-hungry people to pass through my gates. He only knows intimidation and violence. Even his wife feared him, which is why I sent Tala to destroy him. Had I known then what she was truly capable of …”
Until now, Maia could only imagine the extent of Tala’s ruthlessness. The words Aquila left unspoken would confirm it.
“What did she do?”
“There are things far worse than death, Maia. Tala killed Orion’s wife and daughter before she got to him, and unfortunately, he escaped. The only person to ever survive her blade. For now, his rage fuels him, but I always knew it would eventually consume him.”
Tala must have been the reason for the scar on Orion’s throat. A reminder of everything Aquila took from him. His hatred and rage were as justified as Maia’s, and her stomach knotted as she realized Tala wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to Hannah.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because there is change in the air.” Aquila finally met her gaze, a surprising sadness in his yellowed eyes. “I believe the execution of our Overseer has expedited what’s to come. As such, I’ve taken the appropriate precautions and drafted my letter of succession.”
She knew the choices Aquila had. If he wanted to destroy the rebellion, he would need someone as merciless as Orion. The strategic choice was Tala.
Maia’s heart stopped. The crackle of the fireplace was drowned out by the terrifying silence hanging in the air.
“I have named Aster as my successor.”
She collapsed, her breath escaping her in a sigh of relief. An approving smile curled Aquila’s lips, and he returned his gaze to the flames.
“He’s a good, honest man, and the leader Portico needs to survive what’s coming. There are many who won’t agree with my decision. Claim I wasn’t in the right mindset. Try to overrule it. They’ll fear the change he’ll bring.” His eyes found hers again. “I’m glad I was right to assume you wouldn’t be one of them. He’ll need people like you by his side. People he can trust.”
“What are you asking of me?”
“You’ve shown you’re willing to fight for what you believe. So, I ask, do you believe in him?”
She did. But it was for all the reasons Aquila shouldn’t.
The two cuts, now dark scars on his arm.
His treasonous whispers that only she knew.
The hope he still had in their broken world.
Maia lifted her gaze, suddenly imagining Aster sitting across from her instead of Aquila.
If your eyes are open, the moment will always reveal itself.
Orion had lost his way, but imagining Aster taking Aquila’s place on the board somehow changed everything. He was already a traitor to Portico, which meant he was the ally Maia needed to still succeed. With Aster, she saw hope again. The dangerous thought that she could still keep her father’s legacy alive, as well as her promise to Hannah, if she played the game the same way her father once did.
“Yes. I believe in him.”
“Then I need you to fight for him, Maia.” Aquila clenched his anemic fist. “Our late Overseer was to be my successor until Tala conveniently found the rebel letter on him. A lie I couldn’t expose in time. She’s now using the journals as threats of treason against Aster. I need you to find proof of her lies before Aster ends up in the same position. Do you understand?”
She did. She needed to find who was on the other side of Tala’s letters. “Consider it done.”
The chair creaked as Maia stood, starting back to the foyer. Destroying Tala would be the only common ground she and Aquila would ever find.
“Be careful, Maia. I fear when the transition of power occurs, a veil will fall, and the rebels who have infiltrated Portico will reveal themselves. I hope to expose them before my end, but if I don’t succeed, they will seek to destroy you too.”
She looked back at Aquila, his eyes hooded with fatigue from the conversation, and she finally realized Portico’s weakness. Aquila. An old man desperately looking for permanence before he took his final breath. Delusional enough to believe after everything he’d done, he could still be the hero. She continued out the door, removing her father’s watch, comforted in knowing that each second slowly ticked closer to Aquila’s demise.
Portico organized a celebratory festival the next evening, with rivers of flickering lanterns winding across the gathering grounds and converging in front of Council Hall.
Food booths with deep-red awnings encircled a wooden dance floor, now crowded with guards and staff. The string band seemed to be paid per song, hastily bouncing from one jig to the next. It was exactly what the crowd wanted. The dancers were almost buoyant as they laughed and spun, brushing sweat-soaked hair from their faces, unbothered by snow lazily falling around them.
Beside the dance floor, the rebels sat huddled together at tables overflowing with food and drink they eagerly devoured. Maia leaned against one of the dozens of wooden poles assembled solely to hang red cloth streamers. She caught one in the wind, twirling it around her finger. The red against her palm made her freeze as she saw Caleb’s blood on her hands again.
She was back at Canal Row. Her dagger in his chest. His mouth wide in surprise.
She dropped the cloth, stumbling back into an icy grip.
“Everythin’ okay?” Sky asked, scanning the space around them as if trying to find the source of her distress.
“Yes.” She rubbed her hands together, grounding herself back in reality. “Just tripped.”
He caught her movement, and she wondered if he saw her attempting to wash the blood away again. Forever stained.
“Come on, the others are up there,” he said, nodding towards the Council Hall steps.
The click of Sky’s polished collector’s shoes punctuated the silence between them as they climbed the steps. She glanced at him, catching the subtle bounce of his amulet under his shirt.
“You spoke Scavenger in that prison.”
His jaw clenched as he glanced up the steps. The others were still too far to overhear. “I did.”
It was the most he had ever offered, and she latched on to it. “And your pendant?”
They stopped close enough to the crowd to drown out their conversation. “They call it the Rancor.” He freed it from under his shirt, running his thumb over the smooth lacquer glistening in the moonlight. “They believe emotions passed through gazes can heal or poison the soul. A loving gaze heals, while this talisman protects against the more poisonous ones.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“The Scavenger who killed my mother.” He glanced towards the others again. “When he found me hidden in the trees, I was sure he’d kill me too… but he didn’t.” He paused, and Maia could almost see him hesitantly choosing which walls to temporarily drop. “Back then, I often wished he had. Instead, he took me in. Fed me. Gave me shelter. Did everything he could to make things right. But it was impossible. I couldn’t forgive him. So, when I left with the bounties, he gave me his amulet and said mistake not, forgive not.”
“What does it mean?”
His eyes softened to an overcast gray. “You only understand what forgiveness means when you’re the one needin’ it.”
It was the version of him she had seen with Aster and Rafe the day they arrived. The one she had wanted to reach out to. So this time she did. “I’m sorry.”
He looked down at their hands entwined, rubbing her palm like he would his pendant. “It was a long time ago, Maia.” With a sigh, he let go. “I understand now how much forgiveness means to people like us.”
Us.
That’s what changed—why he was now willing to share his flaws. In his eyes, she was now his equal. She had become the darkness she promised she wouldn’t succumb to when they first met.
He started up the stairs again, and Maia slowly followed, her steps suddenly heavier.
“What shitty thing did you say to her now?” Briar asked as they approached.
Sky took a seat on the step ahead of Briar, propping himself on his elbows. “You always gotta assume the worst of me.”
“You ain’t proved me wrong yet,” Briar said, taking a sip from a flask and offering it to Maia.
She gratefully took it, stepping behind him to sit between Senna and Garcia. Senna had discarded her scout uniform for a blue-patterned dress with a plunging neckline. Intricate gold earrings grazed her shoulders, making her look far too glamorous for the celebration.
“That color looks nice on you,” Maia said, avoiding Senna’s gaze as she took a sip from the flask.
Briar leaned back into Maia’s legs, the nape of his neck resting on her knee. “She’s already made us tell her that.”
That wasn’t a surprise. And neither was the soft brush of Senna’s wild hair against Maia’s cheek as she leaned in to whisper, “It looks nice on you too, darling.”
Senna had picked the same color for Maia—the one that caught Aster’s attention. Maia turned to her, seeing the flames reignited in her gaze. But she had changed. This time, it didn’t flush her cheeks, instead fueling her and twisting her lips into a dangerous grin. Only Senna could make her feel beautiful, powerful, and dangerous all at the same time.
Sitting on the steps of Council Hall, bathed in a peace as soft as the glow of the lanterns above them, felt surreal. Inevitable. As if everything had somehow been leading to it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Garcia,” Maia said, watching General Winter carrying fistfuls of lagers to the table of rebels. She landed a rough pat on one of the rebel’s shoulders, sloshing her mug as she raised it to them.
Garcia laid back, eyes lost on the sky above. It was the first time he looked relaxed since arriving.
Aquila had released him from holding as soon as they returned with the rebel deserters and weapons. He was even gifted a room in the lush diplomat housing as a show of gratitude.
“Trust me,” he said wistfully. “It took a long time for me to believe it too.”
“I think about Kayla and Jayce often.” Her hand found Briar’s shoulder, as if holding him close would keep him from the same fate. He dropped his head to rest on it. “I can’t even imagine your loss.”
“Believe it or not, Edward is the reason I survived.” Garcia tucked his good hand under his head, the other still trapped in a slightly cleaner sling. “The old bastard jumped in front of me when they ambushed us. By the time I could run, Kayla and Jayce were already down. I still don’t know how I got out of there alive, but Edward died a damn hero.”
She wondered if he’d found redemption in his last moments. Thinking back, though, Edward didn’t seem like someone who would allow himself that kind of peace.
Guilt gripped her chest as Garcia quickly wiped away a loose tear. She should have said something. The confession of Governor Shaw’s warning rested on the tip of her tongue. If they knew the truth, would they blame her as much as she blamed herself?
She decided it wasn’t worth finding out. “What are we going to do about the bounty Orion put on me?”
“Luckily, he wants you alive,” Sky said, resting his arms on his knees and glancing at her over his shoulder. “I’ll talk with Cap, the head of the bounties. She can clear it for us.”
“And what about the rebels?” Senna asked, nodding towards the crowd below. “They know who Maia is too.”
There was a moment of silence before Garcia finally answered. “I’ll take care of them until the bounty’s clear.”
“Then what?” Senna pressed.
“Then we head North. Start over.” The certainty in Sky’s answer made it sound as if it were something already decided.
“All of those rebels are looking to Maia,” Garcia snapped. “If she leaves—”
“I’m not.” He was right. She couldn’t walk away, not after everything. “I’m here to finish this.”
Her eyes scanned the crowd, finding Aster and Rafe laughing together with Mr. Foster. She couldn’t walk away when she was so close to fulfilling her promise to Hannah.
“That said,” Maia continued, toying with the cap of the flask. “I understand if you all decide to leave.”
Sky’s face darkened. “They’re gonna fuckin’ hang you, just like they did to Rowan.”
“Watch yourself,” Briar warned, suddenly filling the space between them.
“You know as well as I do she isn’t any safer out there, Skylar. Not with the rebellion and bounties hunting her.” Senna turned to Maia. “I trust you have a plan.”
“I do.” Maia couldn’t hide her gratitude as she reached for Senna’s hand.
“Well, it’s a good thing I have a dangerous soft spot for you.” Senna gently squeezed it, giving Maia a wink. “I’m with you to the end.”
“Thank you. But don’t stay because of me.”
“You don’t get it, boss.” Briar swiped the flask from her. “We didn’t come here for Orion or the fucking rebellion. We came here because we believed in you.”
His confession filled her heart, making her feel whole in a way she never knew possible. There was weight to his words—a promise. They were in this together until the bitter end.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she cleared her throat, glancing towards the stars. Orion’s constellation hovered above, watching them. “Then we finish this.”
Garcia sat up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just like your father.”
“Orion will regret making an enemy out of you,” Senna said, offering Maia her hand.
Her words weren’t a warning, but a reminder of what Maia was now capable of. They started down the steps, no longer needing to hide in the shadows as they took their positions on the board.