The Needle's Edge.
Gazda, Erydia.
Evening.

Birk was able to send the city guards away without too much trouble. He let them search the shop and they found nothing. By the time we'd been given the all clear to return, Em was still pretty upset. Afraid for herself and her aunt's shop if they were caught aiding us—but I think mostly she was afraid for Birk.

They argued for what felt like hours. And she cried. And while I didn't want her to report us to the city guard or alert Caine to our presence, I knew exactly how it felt to be lied to by someone you care about. I knew how that betrayal stung and how it changed everything. Listening to their muffled argument, I was faced with the mountains of things I wanted to say to Kai.

And there was plenty to say, I was still incredibly mad at him. And it would take time for him to regain my trust. And...And he was married now. The realization of that kept hitting me in waves. I'd had my mind and heart set on him for months and now...now he was bound to someone else.

To Kinsley. Which changed so many things. I hadn't believed myself brave enough to dream of my future, but finding out that Kai was married to someone else had made me realize that I had started to plan a life for us. A future that went beyond this fight and the Culling. And I'd never really done that before. And now I wished I hadn't.

So, I knew how Em felt. She thought Birk was putting his life at risk; he thought overthrowing the current monarchy was working risking his life for. They'd now found themselves on opposite sides of a rebellion.

I sat with Cohen, Nadia, and Heidi—the four of us curled into one corner of the room as we listened to their quiet battle. Mim had come down twice since we'd returned—once to deliver warm beef stew and bread, and then again to tell us that Madame Leroux would be returning to the shop that evening and we'd best be quiet.

Em would be the least of our concerns if she found us here. Birk wouldn't be able to silence her, wouldn't be able to send the guards away a second time. We'd be dead. The games of cards and quiet teasing had ceased at that warning.

Now we all just listened and waited.

With nothing to do but worry, most everyone in our party had decided to turn in early. The cots and bunks were filled, the overheard light doused. The room was lit by the small heater and the flickering of one candle. The lone flame sat in the middle of the small circle of us, casting shadows on our faces.

Slowly, over a course of hours, the muffled sound of Birk and Emilie arguing subsided. The shop above us turned quiet. I fiddled with the candle, pulling the fire to me until it was nearly gone and then pushing it back onto the wick—it fluttered and sputtered and twisted under my influence.

Next to me, Heidi pursed her lips. Nadia must have caught the expression too because she muttered a quiet, "Don't start anything."

I smiled and glanced at Heidi, still fiddling with the flame as I said, "Tell me something, Heidi. In a fight, who would win, you or me?"

Her brows rose and she slung her strawberry blonde braid over her shoulder. "Me, clearly. You wouldn't last ten seconds, Benson."

Cohen made a little sound at the back of his throat, almost a laugh.

Naida glanced his way and then shook her head, bemused. "The benefit of the Culling being over is that we don't have to think about that anymore. Let's—Let's just talk about something else."

"Fine," Heidi said, turning to the healer. "Let's talk about you in the arena then. In a fight who would win, you or Benson?"

Nadia's shoulders slumped in resignation, as if she'd known what Heidi would say. She shook her head. "Monroe, obviously."

Cohen's mouth quirked into a small smile and he shook his head, clearly disagreeing with that assessment. "You aren't giving yourself enough credit," he whispered. Then he glanced at me apologetically, "I'm not saying I'd want Nadia to kill you," he amended, "only that I think she could if she tried."

I smiled, unbothered by that assessment. "Fair enough."

Heidi's brow furrowed and she leaned further into the wall behind her, pulling her knees to her chest. "What'd you mean? Nadia isn't any good in a fight. She's a damn target at best."

Nadia rolled her eyes at that. "I swear, we've had this conversation time and time again, I'm constantly asking you to be nice and speaking kindly of others, and..." she shook her head. "And you never fail to be the actual worst—you know that?"

Heidi bared her teeth in a wicked smile. "Old habits, they really do die hard..."

"No, but really," Cohen said, still thinking about Heidi's question. "In a fight, I think Nadia might hold her own just fine. She might even win."

"But how?" Heidi asked, her smile falling away and turning to morbid seriousness. "I know I joke about her being useless—and in a fight, I sort of mean it—but you do have your uses." She said, giving Nadia a tightlipped smile. "Nadia is great to have when you're hurt, or after a fight. But during one...?" Heidi ran a hand over her hair, smoothing back stray strands as she said, "All kidding aside, how do you think she could possibly beat Monroe?"

Cohen's gaze slid to Nadia. She was staring at him, a sort of quiet pleading in her eyes. I remembered what she'd told me about her ability and how it had shifted. He knew and I knew, but it was clear that Nadia wasn't interested in anyone else knowing.

I realized then that she didn't want to have to use her ability that way.

And she'd be forced to if others knew. If this rebellion knew what she could do, if they understood the threat she might pose to our enemies, they'd want to wield her like a weapon. And that sort of use of force, that sort of killing, had never been in her nature.

If forced, I think she could do it, but not without good reason.

Cohen looked to Heidi again without missing a beat. "I've been teaching Nadia to throw knives. I think she could beat Monroe that way."

A lie.

And not even a good one.

Heidi rolled her eyes. "But knives aren't allowed in the Culling. And besides, even if they were, Monroe would turn Nadia to ash before she'd even get the chance to pull a weapon."

My brows rose at that. "I didn't realize I was in the habit of turning people to ash."

She only shrugged in response and waved me off. "You've done it before. I have no doubt you could do it again. And you'd certainly do it if you were in the Culling."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence."

"You're welcome. See?" Heidi said, shooting our friend a wide grin. "I can be nice."

"Only when it suits you," Nadia grumbled.

"There's a time and a place for everything," I said.

Cohen laughed at that and a soldier in a cot nearby shushed us. We fell into silence and I went back to playing with the candle, raising the heat, turning the flame blue. Time stretched on before us.

"Harper asked me for an interview this morning," Nadia said, drawing my attention back to her.

I met her gaze, realizing that the comment was meant for me. "Seems Harper is in the market for stories."

"I told her I didn't have anything interesting to say." Nadia shrugged. "Which is true. I didn't do very much during the Culling. I'm just here. I just exist."

"And you do a very nice job of it," Heidi said.

I elbowed her. "Don't be a brat." When I turned back to Nadia, Cohen had already opened his mouth to speak. I nodded, "Go on."

"You do more than just exist," he said. "And you do did plenty during the Culling. For one, you saved my life."

"And mine," I said. "And I mentioned that in my interview too. You're a part of my story. I may not be here without you."

Cohen threaded his fingers through hers. "Your version of events is just as important as anyone else's."

"She asked for my story too," Heidi said. "I told her I'd think on it."

I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face in them. Suddenly very tired. The day had been so long and I worried the next few days, the following weeks, would be just as scary. I lifted my head enough to peer at Heidi as I said, "You know, I think you should talk to her. You too," I said, looking to Nadia.

"But why?" Nadia asked. "If she's got an interview with you, what do we have to say that you didn't?"

I sighed and lifted my head further. I glanced between my two friends, trying to piece together my own thoughts. I couldn't explain why, but I felt strongly about this—more passionate about their speaking out than I had felt about lifting my own voice.

When Harper had first asked for my story all those months ago, I'd been scared to say anything at all. And then this morning, when she'd sat with me and let me talk my way through my past, it had been therapeutic in a way I hadn't anticipated.

More than that, it had been necessary.

It had been the right thing.

I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it, trying to push away my own discomfort. "During the weeks I was with Caine in the palace, while you were imprisoned, I spent a lot of time alone—well, not alone, but alone with myself and Caine's guards. Anyway, I spent that time in the library reading accounts of past Cullings. They were all written by priestesses. And they were formal and polished. And in someone else's words. There was nothing written by the goddess-touched girls. Not by the winner and not by the losers. Other people told their story. One day—"

I reached forward, letting my fingers caress the lone flame of the candle. It rose to kiss my fingers, a warm caress—not the white, hot bite of a burn. I swallowed and closed my eyes against that memory, wishing I could unhear the way Kai had begged his uncle to stop hurting me. Wishing I could go back and do so many things differently.

"One day," I said, "someone else may write our story. I don't know how it will end. I don't know if we'll win or lose. Maybe those priestesses will say we were the last of the Culling. Maybe they will say we were martyrs of a goddess-damned cause. Maybe we will fail. But whatever they say, it will be filled with pretty words and it will lack any true humanity. We will be boiled down to names and actions on a page. There will be little, if any, explanation of our thoughts or our feelings."

"It will be the same if Harper writes it," Heidi said. "It's still someone else telling our story."

I shook my head.

For some odd reason, I trusted Harper Vance. I knew that she wasn't in this rebellion, wasn't chasing this information, for her own gain. The words she collected from me today would not be spread in The Oredison Oracle to be seen by the rich and affluent in Erydia.

Instead, my story would bleed into the veins of secret roadways and safehouses. My account of the Culling and the events that followed would breathe life into people who were seconds away from losing themselves to despair.

And I trusted Harper to take what I'd told her and use it for good.

My story, the one I told her today, it wouldn't sit in some library and rot. It wouldn't collect dust. It wouldn't be forgotten. I wouldn't be just another name. Just another marked girl. Even if I died in this rebellion, Harper would make sure my story wasn't lost. And that was a form of living.

All I'd ever wanted was to live.

"It's different," I said, "because it's my words. It's my story told by me. Harper will make it make sense on the page. She's a writer, it's what she does. But it will still be me. What I did and why I did it. And Harper is giving me the chance to tell my story first. Before the priestesses can turn it into a fable—before my life can be boiled down to a series of bad choices that should be avoided. Before a temple sermon. And I think there's value in getting to tell your story first. There's also value in having multiple stories from multiple points of view—all focused on the same thing. Think about it," I said, pulling the flame from the wick and onto my fingers. I let it thread like a bright, glowing ribbon between them. "This is the first time that goddess-touched girls have ever lived beyond the crowning of a new queen. Kinsley is on the throne and we are still breathing. That—That alone is world changing. Don't you think people want to hear from us?"

Nadia pursed her lips. "I guess that's true."

I nodded. "You have just as much right to tell your story as I have to tell mine. There is space in this world for all of us to exist. So...I think you ought to talk to Harper. She seems intimidating at first, but she's just passionate about what she does."

Cohen gave Nadia's had a tight squeeze. "I think Monroe is right. You should tell your version of things. You deserve to speak for yourself."

Heidi sighed and looked out at the darkened room around us. "When will she publish what you told her?"

I lowered my hand back to the candle, allowing the whisp of flame to reattach itself—a plucked leaf returned to a tree. "After the rest of Darragh's troops are here. Maybe even after we've attacked the palace. I don't think she wants to risk tipping Caine off to our plans, and an interview from me would certainly do that."

"Maybe I'll talk to her," Nadia said. "I just don't want there to be any backlash for my family. So far..." She sighed heavily and leaned into Cohen's shoulder. "So far it doesn't seem like Caine is really concerned with me. I don't want to make myself a target, not right now. Not with so much at stake. My family is too within his reach. I'd rather wait until he's gone. Then I can speak out."

"Do you know anything about your family?" I asked.

Nadia shook her head. "No. But I think if Caine had hurt them, he'd be vocal about it. So, I'm hoping they're fine."

My mind drifted to my mother. "I hope so too."

"Well," Heidi said, pushing up from her seat on the floor. She spoke through a yawn. "I think I'd rather my story stay mine. But the speech was good, Benson. Real motivational and shit."

I rolled my eyes. "Go to bed before we really find out which of us would win in a fight."

She laughed. "Is that a threat?"

I smiled and the candle hissed to smoke, casting us in darkness. "It's a promise."

***

The Needle's Edge.
Gazda, Erydia.
Three days later.

Em delivered breakfast on Saturday morning. Things had been quiet upstairs and even Mim had kept her distance. With Madame Leroux back in the shop nearly full-time, it was difficult for them to sneak things down for us. We'd been surviving off of stale bread, jam, and cheese. Twice in the last three days, Birk had come down to check on us, bringing with him a cloth wrapped stack of sandwiches and a small pot of chicken broth.

But that morning, Em came alone. No one said anything as she set the canvas bag down and began piling covered plates of food onto the table. Her motions were stiff, her gaze locked intentionally on the food she was preparing. Sitting on my bunk nearby, I wondered if Birk had sent her here alone on purpose or if she'd volunteered to do it herself.

An apology. This was supposed to be an apology. When no one else made to move towards the food and no one else spoke to Emilie, I got up. I kept my footsteps light, my smile easy as I took up a place beside her and start uncovering the dishes. Bacon, ham, scrambled eggs, toast, a pitcher of milk, a pot of tea...

"Hey," I said, keeping my voice down. 

She glanced in my direction, careful not to meet my eyes as she muttered a quiet, "Hi."

"Thank you for breakfast. Did you make it...?"

She shook her head. "I don't know how to cook. Mim and Birk did it."

I forced a smile, wishing she'd relax a little. Give me something to work with. "Well," I said with a sigh. "Thank you for delivering it. And for letting us stay here."

She nodded and passed me a little glass container of sugar. "I—Birk explained things to me. He told me the truth about the king. I didn't...I didn't realize it was all—" she pursed her lips, searching for what she wanted to say. "I didn't realize that things weren't okay."

I fiddled with the little knit cozy around the teapot. "Yeah. Kai—The king isn't truly in charge. He's being controlled by his uncle. And his uncle doesn't care about anything but power. If he continues to wield the king as a weapon, Erydia will suffer."

Em chewed her bottom lip. "Yeah, Birk said something similar."

It fell quiet.

"Is..." Em sighed. "Is that where your bruises came from? I thought—I assumed it was the new king, but when I asked you about it, you told me it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing, was it?"

"No, it wasn't nothing."

When I gave no other information, she nodded. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Me too." I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the tension in my bones that always built up when I talked about Caine or what he'd spent a month doing to me. "Did Birk tell you that Britta Warwick is alive?" I asked. "She's the one fighting for the throne. It's her rebellion, I guess. We're all just in it. And no one can argue that she isn't a much better candidate for queen than Caine is for king so..." I trailed off, unsure what else to add.

Her voice was quiet as she said, "He did tell me that."

For a long moment, there was only silence between us. My chest ached and I realized that it wasn't nervousness that had me fidgeting with the table, it was second-hand guilt—guilt and the memory of what it felt like to be in Em's place.

I turned to look at her, studying her features, trying to decide what words to say.

Em didn't look up at me, she kept her eyes on the plates of food before us. Her brow was furrowed, her bottom lip near raw from biting it. I reached out a hand and touched her arm, resisting the instinct to pull back as she flinched slightly.

"I'm sorry he wasn't honest with you," I said. "It—It isn't fair that he didn't tell you before bringing us here."

She glanced my way, meeting my gaze for the first time. "He's using my home to house rebels. If—If the city guard found out, I would be executed. My aunt would be executed. No one would believe me if I said I didn't know. And now I do know. And...And I don't know what I'm supposed to do because this wasn't my choice and now I feel responsible."

I nodded. "Tell us to leave and I'm sure we can find somewhere else to—"

"It isn't about that," she said sharply, her voice rising enough that it caught the attention of one of the soldiers nearby. We met eyes and I could tell the young man was worried I might need assistance. I offered him a small smile and turned to look at Em.

Things were fine.

She had every right to be upset, even with me. Even if I hadn't been the one to lie to her, my presence was putting her at risk. I felt at fault.

"If it isn't about that, what is it about?"

She swallowed and ran a hand through her hair, shoving strands of it back from her face. Her voice was a sharp hiss as she admitted, "I love him, okay? I love him and he—he used that. He used me for his stupid rebellion. How—I thought—And now he tells me he's in love with me. He says what I've been dying to hear for years and now...How am I supposed to know what's real anymore?"

Em was looking at me as if she really wanted an answer. And I wished desperately that I had one, but I didn't. I couldn't tell her how to know if Birk really cared about her. I still asked myself that same question about Kai all the time. With all of his lies, how I could possibly know what was true?

I sighed, wishing I had better words as I said, "You have to start again, I think. You—It will mean asking difficult questions and accepting difficult answers. But...But I think Birk does care about you. I told you that when we first met. I told you then that there was no competition. I think that's still true."

Her throat bobbed. "It just...it hurts that he didn't trust me with this. And it hurts worse that he was willing to risk my life for a rebellion—for a damn cause. He cares more about the rebellion than he does me. I know that much."

"I—I don't think that's true."

"He said you're in love with the king?"

I nodded. "I am."

"He says that Britta Warwick is going to kill him."

I swallowed. "Yes, that's what everyone keeps saying."

"So what do you care more about, him or the rebellion?"

I hated that she asked it so directly in front of everyone—and I knew everyone was listening. The room was too still, too quiet. I could feel eyes shift to me. There was no escaping it. I'd have to answer.

To lie or to tell the truth?

I ran my fingertip along the edge of the wooden table. "I care about the rebellion. But my caring about that doesn't cancel out how I feel about Kai."

"But will you let him die for it—for this cause?"

My throat burned as I spoke truthfully, "I don't know. I don't think I'll be able to."

She stepped back from the table, her voice clear and her conviction unwavering as she said, "Well, maybe I'm old fashioned, but I think people should matter more than a set of hopes. More than some dream. What is a better world even worth if the people you love have to die to create it? Why live anymore if there's no one you love left?"

I didn't know what to say to that.

I think maybe it was a conclusion I'd already come to. I think I knew it was true from the moment I heard Kace's voice begging for help—help that never came. I'd lost so many people along the way and the idea of losing more...my mind went to the cliffside with Jax. I was reminded of how my thoughts had spiraled and the idea of all of it ending had filled me with an odd sense of relief.

But my story wasn't finished. And I didn't want it to end like that.

Powerful women are not born from having an easy path to travel.

That's what Isla had said to me. And I believe it now more than ever before.

I straightened and lifted my chin, hoping she would hear the sincerity in my voice as I said, "I think if it came down to it, Birk would fight for you. He'd protect you. He can care about the rebellion and also love you. And maybe...maybe you don't see it, but they probably go hand in hand."

Her jaw clenched and she shook her head. "But how? How can you believe that? He chose the rebellion."

I considered this, remembering our conversation all those weeks ago.

"I'm in the rebellion because I believe in a better world. I believe in a world without the Culling. And while I know very little about what it takes to run a country, I know that Britta would do a better job and care more for Erydians than Caine. Probably more than any other Warwick ruler ever has. But I'm here, fighting, to get Kai back. The two are one and the same. Winning would mean freeing Kai and getting...getting a piece of my life back."

"Or it might mean watching him be executed."

I shook my head. "I can promise you this much, Em: it will not end with him executed. I will not allow that. Not ever."

"But how can my situation be similar to yours? Birk has no reason to fight in this rebellion—at least not a reason that has anything to do with me. There's no way he's doing any of this for me."

"You told me that your aunt didn't like Birk and that your opinion about him didn't matter. Em, it may not have occurred to you, but Birk I think is probably trying to create a world where an indentured servant from Varos can be in love with a seamstress from Gazda. Because right now, he can't have you. Hell, if he hadn't sold himself into service, he wouldn't even be allowed in the same city as you. Some things will have to be lost in order to build a world where anyone can change their fate—but I don't think Birk would allow you to be lost for that cause. Not when, I'd wager, you're what he's really fighting for. The freedom to choose you is his cause."

She blinked at me, surprised. "That's...That's romantic."

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, I want romance to be real. I think it can be real."

Em swallowed. "I don't know where to go from here."

"Well, it'll be up to Birk to earn your trust again. And it'll be up to you to decide if you'll let him."

She nodded and for a moment, silence bloomed between us—more comfortable than it had been before. After a second she said, "I may not agree with everything, but I do agree that the Culling should be stopped. You shouldn't have to die for Erydia."

I pursed my lips, fighting a smile as I said, "Thank you."

"And I'm sorry—sorry to all of you," she said, glancing towards the rest of the room. "For calling the city guard. I panicked and...I should have given Birk the chance to explain before I did that."

"Consider it forgotten," Cohen said, his voice light and inviting—every ounce still a prince.

Around him, the others nodded, a few murmuring their agreement.

Em's cheeks warmed. "Thank you."

It fell silent again and I grabbed a plate, offering it to her. "Eat with us?"

Her lips twitched and the tension in her shoulders seemed to dissipate a little. "Yeah. I think I will."

***

Hey! I'm back. Life has be ridiculously busy in these past few weeks. If you follow me on instagram then you know that I got two kittens, moved towns, got a new job, have been training for that new job, and I'm now preparing for college move-in day in two weeks. Ahhhhh. *😭 cries in tired* BUT I really want to get back to having a consistent upload schedule. 2021 has been so wild and I haven't had a moment to breathe. But I'm planning on working on getting some chapters revised and ready for upload this weekend. If that happens *fingers crossed it does* then I will be back to uploading on Wednesdays and the occasional Saturday. I feel terrible for making you wait. Thanks for sticking with me.

As always, if you enjoyed this chapter, leave these emojis in the comments 🐈🐈‍⬛.