The Needle's Edge.
Gazda, Erydia.
Thursday night.

When Mim couldn't find a lantern for me to practice with, Jax sent word to Arden and asked for the exact ones he planned to use the next day. One oil and one kerosine. When they first arrived, Jax had wanted to jump right into distance training with them, but I'd argued against it. I wanted to get acquainted with the two different types of flame.

"What the hell does that mean?" He'd asked, bemused.

I'd only sighed. "Just...give me a few minutes."

Jax had obliged, leaving me alone to fiddle with the lanterns.

Essentially, fire was fire. But kerosine flame and oil flame felt different to me—they hissed and popped and curled in separate ways. And they burned differently too. The chemicals involved made the flames entirely separate in my mind. This was something I felt certain Arden had hoped for.

He didn't know a lot about my ability, so the use of two different types of lanterns would have been an educated guess. But Arden was clever and he'd assumed correctly. I would be able to tell the difference in the flames.

For a while, I sat on the floor of the basement and played with the lanterns. I lit them and let my ability kiss the flames there—become used to the sensation of it. In Third Corps, I'd become used to lighting fires at distance. That was entirely thanks to Kai and his bonfire task. He'd had me light and douse every one of the twenty-three bonfires in Third Corps.

I'd walked those same paths over and over again until I could feel the pulse of each fire, even when I was on the other side of camp. At the beginning, I'd needed to put my hand in the flame to control it. But by the end of my time in camp, I could have easily lit the fires without moving from my bed.

Keeping a pulse on the lanterns and monitoring those fires would be the same concept. If I knew where they were and what each flame felt like, I could do it. I would just need to focus and not lose track or confuse the flame with something else. I knew I could do that.

Jax, who was determined to leave nothing to chance, was less convinced. I'd only just doused the lanterns when he picked them up and announced, "I'm going for run. When I get where I'm going, I'll light one of the lanterns. You light the second one."

I shook my head. "It doesn't work like that. I have to know where the lanterns will be. Otherwise, I don't think I can just light them. This...this is all new to me. I've done something similar to this in Third Corps, but I knew those fires and exactly where they were. And they didn't move."

"There may not be time for you to go and find Arden's lookout point. You'll need to figure out how to know where they are, without knowing where they are."

I blinked at him. "Are you hearing yourself?"

He secured one of the lanterns to his belt and began backing towards the ladder. The small saferoom was mostly empty now, with many of our members having already gone to join up with the groups they'd be working with tomorrow. But those who still remained in the basement were watching us with curiosity.

Jax grinned wickedly, never taking his eyes off of me. It was disarming, that smile. It was perhaps the first true smile I'd seen from him in days. "You're goddess-touched," he said, simply. "You can improvise."

I laughed and pushed up from the floor. "No, I can't."

His brows rose in a challenge. "Bet."

I shook my head. "I can't just throw fire at nothing, Jax. I have to know where I'm aiming."

"You know where you're aiming. The lanterns." He held up the oil lantern for me to see, as if that explained it.

"But that isn't how it works."

He took hold of the first wrung of the ladder and stepped up. "Try."

I moved towards him. "It's a waste of time. Tomorrow, I'll just have to slip away and go to Arden. If I can see where he is and have some sort of aim for the fire, I can do it. But I don't think I can just aim at nothing."

Jax sighed. "Goddess, Monroe. You aren't aiming at nothing. You're aiming at the lantern. Just focus on it. Follow it. Tomorrow, you don't even need to light the lantern, you only need to feel when Arden does and know when he puts it out. You will, however, need to light the explosives. What's the difference, truly?"

"I'll know where those are because I'll be setting up the dresses."

He sighed heavily. "Try, Monroe. Humor me. Just keep your focus on both lanterns. I think you'll know when I've lit the first. Then, just..." he shrugged and waved a lazy hand in my direction. "Just do what you do best."

I put my hands on my hips. "Wow, how very descriptive."

"Stop whining and give it a shot. If it doesn't work, we'll figure something else out. But we're better off knowing now than later. If you have to find time to see Arden, so be it. But it'd be better if you could just keep like a magical eye on the lanterns or whatever." He started to climb the ladder, the lantern at his side swinging precariously with each upward step.

"You're overestimating my ability," I muttered.

"No, I'm not," he called as he pushed the trap door open. "I'm challenging you."

***

I paced the length of the room, waiting to feel something—a flicker or a pulse or a tug of flame. As Jaxon had slipped from the safe-room and into the shop above, I'd cast out a net, tying a tether between myself and both lanterns. I hadn't done anything quite like this before.

When it had been the candle in my palace bedroom all those months ago, I'd been looking right at the wick. Creating a bridge between the object and my ability had been easy enough. We'd only had a few mere inches of distance between us. The bonfires in Third Corps had built on that control and lengthened the distance between myself and the object I wanted to burn—but I'd still had a visual of where each flame needed to be. The bonfires didn't move.

Maybe fighting Tessa in the arena was a comparison I could draw—but it still wasn't the same. I could see her, for the most part. And again, the distance hadn't been very far. So, the closest I'd ever come to tracking an object was probably in the tunnels with Kai. At the time, I'd been panicked and it had been easy to push my ability from myself into the target—a balled up pair of socks.

This, trying to force a pathway between myself and two lanterns, was something I couldn't even begin to know how to do. Cohen and Nadia watched me from their place on one of the cots. Their eyes tracked my every move, but they didn't speak to me. No one dared distract me.

But I wouldn't have the luxury of silence and focus tomorrow. I'd have to somehow stay partially focused on Arden's lanterns. If I couldn't track them now, how I was meant to find them tomorrow? I scrapped my teeth against my bottom lip and spun to look at my friends.

"Do you have to stare at me?"

Nadia's brows rose, surprised at the sharpness in my tone.

Cohen smirked. "Anxious, Monroe?"

"I'm not the only one who has to perform well tomorrow," I said, giving Nadia a pointed look. "Maybe you ought to be practicing too."

She glanced around the room at the soldiers with us. Most were either already asleep or were talking quietly to each other. Her voice was soft as she said, "There's no way to practice it."

I shook my head. "Why are you so ashamed of it? I've literally burned people to death, Nadia. No one will be surprised to find out your ability is equally as destructive."

"I'm not—" She sighed and pursed her lips. "I'm not ashamed of it."

"Seems like it to me."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Don't lash out at me just because you're scared."

I stopped pacing and turned to look at her fully. "I'm not scared."

Her brows lifted. "Really? You sure look scared. Your pulse is racing and your temperature is up."

Cohen placed a hand on her bent knee and she slid away from him, her eyes still on me.

There was no anger in her voice, only raw truth as she said, "You're terrified. I can see it written all over your face. Kai might die tomorrow. It's a risk for all of us, but it's really a risk for him. He really might die."

I swallowed and shoved my hair back from my face. "I know that..." I exhaled, floundering to keep a hold on the tether between me and the lantern. "I know that he might...that Kai might..." I couldn't even say it.

It was a fear I wasn't capable of looking at. Not without losing myself.

"And you aren't scared of it?" Nadia asked.

"Of course, I am." My voice broke against the words. "But—But I'll convince Britta to let him live. I have to."

Nadia pursed her lips and looked to Cohen. The two of them exchanged a glance before he said, "It might be our last night. Let's not argue."

"No," I said, taking a step towards him. "Go on. Say what you've got to say. Clearly, you've talked about this. About Kai and me."

"We didn't—" He sighed heavily. "It isn't like that. I'm not your enemy, Monroe."

"But Kai is?"

Some of the soldiers were staring now. Cohen seemed to notice their eyes too as he said, "Kai has made his choice, now he'll have to deal with the consequences."

This was an old conversation and I had no desire to go through it all again.

I spread myself thinner, still groping for that tether. I felt fragile, one push from falling over the edge. I kept my attention on that dark tendril of power as I said, "Britta will decide what happens to him. He'll have a trial. Then she and Darragh can decide what to do. I just...I just want him to live. I don't want to lose anyone else I love." My chest ached at the words. "Even if there's no future between Kai and me, I still can't see him dead. Not if I can stop it."

It was silent for a moment and I thought maybe the conversation was over, but then Nadia whispered, "I...I don't want him to go to trial. Maybe that makes me a bad person or makes me selfish, but...you aren't the only person he hurt, Monroe. And just because you have decided to forgive him, doesn't mean that I have to. He—" she bit back the words and shook her head. "He led us into a trap. He used your affection as leverage to gain our trust. They all used us. And his lie could have cost me my life. It could have ended with me in the arena. I was days away from that. And I get that he was always looking out for you and that he took the crown for you, but he—Kai didn't care about the rest of us. He didn't try to warn any of us. I..." She closed her eyes and shook her head, her throat bobbing as she fought against tears.

"Let's not do this now," Cohen said again.

Nadia said, "I rode with him in the transport to the palace. I healed him. I was the one who made sure he was well enough to make the trip. He was frantic and worried and I was stupid. So damn stupid. I thought it was romantic. I thought he was scared for you. But he wasn't. He was nervous because he was about to become king. He was about to unveil this wretched master plan. And he never once hinted at what he was really going to do. He didn't warn me and he could have. He should have told me it was trap and I could have—we might've—"

"What's done is done," Cohen said, cutting her off.

"If I hadn't taken tacet...maybe I could have helped Uri." She met my eyes, her own shining with unshed tears. "I could have tried, at least. Even with everyone around me having taken it, I might have been able to do something for her, ease her pain or..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Monroe. I know you love him. And I don't want to see you hurt. I really, truly don't. But I won't lie and say I wish him well. I want him dead. I think it's what he deserves and I—I think it's the only way I'll be safe."

This was an old argument, one I'd thought we'd settled. But maybe it would never really be settled. This felt like some sort of impasse. As if I were lingering on the edge of something terrible and I didn't know what to do. Didn't know who to reach out to.

I inhaled a sharp breath. "I understand how you feel, Nadia. But killing him isn't the solution. We talked about this."

"I know but...does talking about being in the arena and having to kill someone make you any less afraid of it? Knowing something and talking about it doesn't make it go away. It doesn't make me less afraid of it. And I'm...I'm afraid of the Culling. I have been my whole life and I don't understand how you could ever truly sleep peacefully if there was still a way for it to exist."

"It's Kai or Cohen, Nadia. You know that. If Kai isn't the heir, Cohen will be."

Cohen lifted a hand. "Stop. Both of you stop. We—It will be Britta's choice. Her's and Darragh's. Not mine and not yours. There's no point in arguing over it."

"I just worry that his story will end badly," Nadia said. "And I don't want you to be caught up in it. You're my friend. I care about you. And I know he makes you happy, but why should that happiness always come at a cost? Why do you have to suffer for his choices? The world—The world is so wide, Monroe. Cast your heart in a different direction. I know you'll find someone who will love you better than he has. I know there is someone who will love you fully, without any ulterior motive. Someone who will not break your heart."

There was a burning in my chest and a ringing in my ears. I didn't have the words to describe what I felt. Anger, yes. Hurt, certainly. But mostly it was a roaring sort of pain.

There was always a thin layer of truth to this conversation. Yes, I was hurt. Yes, I always seemed to be punished for Kai's choices, but he'd once taken a bullet because I made a bad choice. And he'd loved me anyway—because he understood why I hesitated and why he got caught in the cross-wires. He understood me...we understood each other.

"I don't want anyone else," I said. "And Kai's story doesn't have to end badly. If I've learned anything from all of this, it's that endings are never fated. We may be set on a path, but we take the steps. We can turn back. We can make a door when there is none. If I believed stories only ever had one marked ending, then mine would have certainly ended in the arena. But it didn't. I'm here. I lied and cheated and broke myself to make it here. And I'll be damned if fate takes my future from me. I won't let it take Kai from me. I'll die first. I'll die if they kill him."

"So is that the choice then?" she asked, already seeming to know my answer. "Is your choice to live with Kai or die alongside him? Is that really what you want, Monroe?"

I felt a tug on that strand of ability—a spark and then a flood of flame. Ah, I've found you, that voice in my gut seemed to whisper. There you are.

Somewhere, very far away, Jax had lit his lantern. The gas lantern—the flame was hot and throbbing, like a second pulse in my veins. I leaned into that distant warmth, the surprise of it nearly enough to make me forget Nadia's question.

Cohen's voice was soft, as if he was just putting the pieces together, "Is this some sort of suicide mission? Do you plan on dying tomorrow?"

"I'm living on borrowed time. Each day is a day I didn't think I'd live to see. I never imagined eighteen. I assumed I'd be dead by now. It's—This doesn't seem like the sort of thing I'll live through. It isn't...I'm not planning...I just..."

I looked away from them, suddenly ashamed of my own weakness. I wanted to lie to them. I wished I could look him in the eyes and tell him that of course I believed I would live. Of course, I planned to live. But it wasn't true.

I didn't plan anything. I'd never had the privilege of having a secure tomorrow.

I'd struggled to imagine my life past tomorrow for a while. Each day felt tenuous and so very fragile, like at any minute it might all fall apart and I might be gone.

I'd cheated the goddess for so long. And I'd never asked for anything more than my life. I'd never wanted anything more than a tomorrow. Now with tomorrow looming, real and tangible, I couldn't bear the thought of the day after it. What would the day after tomorrow bring if Kai died?

I swallowed and reached out an invisible hand towards the second lantern. It was kerosine and the wick was damp, so it caught easily enough. I pushed the flame high, high enough that I could feel the wick sinking away from my grasp—I could feel Jax trying to turn the lantern off.

I withdrew my ability, spooling it back into myself tendril by tendril. Until it was a warm compress in my gut. Until I was grounded by it, soothed by the pressure of it.

Cohen still watched me. I met his eyes as I explained, "I feel like I'm running out of time. I feel like I can only outrun her for so long. And if she—If the goddess takes—After Ambrose and Kace...After everything I've done and the people I've hurt—I just—I've already lost so many people, Cohen. You...If anyone can understand, it's you. I just...I don't think I can bear losing him too."

My face was wet with tears I hadn't remembered shedding, but there I was, standing in the middle of the room crying. Before I could say anything else, Nadia was off the bed. I stepped back from her, but she caught me around the shoulders and pulled me into her arms, crushing against her as she said, "You'd better not do anything stupid and end up dead. Not for anyone. Not even for Kai. He—Don't you dare die tomorrow. I won't allow it." That healing warmth of her touch flowed through me, as soothing and real as the embrace was. "I'm not mad at you. I don't want you to think I am. I love you like a sister; you know that."

I sniffled and nodded, trying not to full out sob into her shoulder as I said, "I love you too. And I'm not mad at you for hating Kai."

She laughed, her body shaking against mine with the action. "I don't hate him. I just—I hate his choices and I hate that he hurt you like he did. I hate...It doesn't matter. Honestly, it doesn't matter. Cohen's right, it'll end up being Britta's choice. I just...don't stand between him and the consequences, Monroe. You don't deserve to suffer for him, not anymore."

I nodded.

"You can't die," she said, taking a step back from me. "If you do, I'll be left to raise Heidi all on my own and goddess knows I can't do it alone. She never listens to me."

It was my turn to laugh. "Raise her, isn't she already grown?"

Nadia shook her head. "No. She isn't. She'd like for us to believe she is, but she's just a kid. We all are."

I wiped at my eyes. "When all of this is done, we ought to ship her off somewhere."

Nadia smiled. "Maybe to a boarding school. Let her torment kids her own age."

I nodded and leaned into her. I smiled to myself as I felt Jax turn off the second lantern. I'd done it. I'd managed to light the lantern and keep a check on the other one. I could do it tomorrow too.

I would do it tomorrow.

I sat down next to Cohen on the cot and Nadia took up a place on my other side, sandwiching me between the two of them. She sidled closer to me, leaning her head on my shoulder as she said, "Maybe we ought to all go to go some far off boarding school after this."

"I never went to real school," I admitted.

"Then it'd be perfect," she said.

Cohen yawned. "I, for one, don't want to go back to school."

"Would you go if I went?" Nadia asked, leaning across me to look at him.

The corner of his lips twitched and he made a point not to look at her as he answered, "I mean, it'd make the whole idea a little more appealing, but I make no promises."

She smiled to herself. "I'm sure I could find a way to sweeten the deal for you."

***
Thank you for your patience. 🥺