Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Istep down from the flyboard, eager to explore. A city. A settlement before the human nations were fragmented into so many small kingdoms and republics, before so much of the population of our planet was wiped out.
Before.
Before the AIs. Long before The Citadel was founded and, apparently, Warriors began to be hunted.
‘I’ve seen this cliff before,’ Mace says, ‘but from a distance. None of the missions I’ve been on have ever sent us here. I had no idea there was a city hiding in the woods.’
The woods have grown in and around what remained of the city. There’s something almost poetic in the cracked asphalt, mostly covered in leaves, about the ruins: stone and wood, greenery and large, rusted contraptions made of metal, next to the ruined buildings.
‘Those are cars,’ says Mace, pointing at one metal monstrosity. ‘They’re used for transport.’
‘I know as much,’ I say. The street under our feet looks wide enough to have fitted two of the contraptions.
I can’t imagine why people needed such large machines for transport.
The Citadel is a huge honeycomb, with buildings that are built snugly together, housing blocks with narrow corridors and moving tunnels.
But many years ago, people had room. The houses were built at some distance from one another, with gardens to separate them. The Citadel could never defend open spaces such as this, considering the many attacks that we have to contend with.
‘How many people lived in a house like that?’ I ask.
‘According to the old texts, they each housed one family,’ Mace says.
‘How decadent. They actually had privacy.’ I stop in my tracks. ‘I forgot how much of a history geek you are.’ Mace had always loved history. No wonder he knows all these random facts.
‘Yeah. Don’t tell anyone, though. PR will go frantic if this gets out.’
‘I won’t,’ I say, but I’m sad. Being such a geek wouldn’t make him look good, it’s true. Neither would ice skating. Has Mace actually grown to believe this carefully curated version of himself?
We pick our way through the debris, making our way forward. Bit by bit.
I bite my lip, unsure how to ask this.
‘Why did you come on this quest with me? I don’t believe for a second that it has to do with my lame magic. Or just so that someone as insignificant as me might find out what she’s good at.’
Mace stops. His fingers grasp my chin – more gently than it should be possible, considering the speed he moves at – and makes me look in his eyes.
He’s fuming. ‘Never, ever say that you’re insignificant, Haeleanor Errington.
You’re the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
You’re strong and clever and a big, bright ball of light. ’
The smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
I blink, unable to believe what I’m hearing. ‘But my magic?—’
‘There’s nothing wrong with your magic, Ellie.
It’s strong and wonderful, and The Citadel has really done one on you to make you think that it isn’t so.
Just because it doesn’t fit neatly in any Quarter.
But what you do in the field? You’re an asset.
I’d be raring to have you on my team, after we’re finished.
Any Warrior in their right mind would. I don’t know what you are, Ellie – I can’t answer that question – but you’re something special.
And don’t let Stella and Central Command ever tell you otherwise. ’
I blink, unsure what to say. Maybe something along the lines of, What the fuck, Mace. Just let me in already.
‘I’m not the only one that The Citadel has done a number on,’ I finally say. Could I ever make him understand that what has been done to him is simply wrong?
‘I—’ he says. ‘It’s not right, Ellie. How they make you feel because you don’t fit in one of the Quarters.
Because you don’t fit into the mould. And it’s more than that.
’ He takes a deep breath. ‘When I found you in that tent, when you were laughing with Allen while he was setting up your bean, so you could listen to music … it made me wonder if there’s more to life than rankings, more than only looking towards a future where I could make a difference in The Citadel, if I wasn’t missing out on so much in the now.
The moment you barrelled into my life again, you made me question everything. ’
My stomach flips. What Mace is telling me is momentous and I could cry and smile with relief until my cheeks ache, at the same time.
I’m frantic, because I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make him pull away from me again. So I do what I usually do when the shit hits the fan: namely, I make a bad joke. ‘I still don’t understand what you have against laughing. You won’t implode if you do it more than twice per day.’
‘I’m traumatised,’ he says, and then gives me an impish smile. ‘Every time I do a photo shoot, the photographer is constantly telling me to smile more.’
‘Mace Hardfield,’ I say, ‘did you just make a joke?’
‘Yes, yes, I’ve been known to do that on occasion.’ He purses his lips, obviously growing impatient with me.
I snigger.
‘I have questions about Franka Ursa, though,’ he says, steering the conversation back towards more serious matters.
I allow it, because in front of me is my old friend Mace. And this conversation feels like we’ve taken a tumble back in time. It’s easy and wonderful, and Mace’s kindness and his sharp mind are shining through. I try to focus on what he’s saying, otherwise I’ll burst into tears and ruin the moment.
‘I can’t help wondering why this information about her – and about her Quarter – has been hidden. I’m wondering if maybe she did something terrible, and Central Command of old needed to protect The Citadel from people like her.’
I deflate a little. So Mace still assumes that Central Command is working in our best interest.
‘What if this information has been lost to The Citadel for more than a hundred years?’ he goes on.
‘I’m intrigued. We found out that, when The Citadel was founded, Warriors were being hunted – but that changed, at some point.
There are Warriors in the other kingdoms. I should know, because we’re preparing to meet them in battle.
Why are we constantly at war, then? And not to mention that we know next to nothing about The Founders. I always thought that a bit off.’
I call this progress. At least, Mace isn’t Central Command’s puppet – and I’m delighted that he’s been asking himself the same questions that I have. Why bother breaking off parts of Stella from The Citadel, if there’s nothing to hide?
‘Like the fact that some of them belonged to different Quarters than the Warriors’?’ I ask. ‘Do you think that Central Command has any interest in recruiting people from other Quarters for their own ranks?’
Mace says, ‘The Commander positions are always filled with the best possible candidates. Maybe they don’t even know other Quarters are an option, if these information blocks are separated from the main Stella, at The Citadel.’
I’m not so sure about that. I always thought that Warriors were a self-serving lot, but I remember the tale about the fox and the sour grapes.
I could never be one, never crawl to the top, no matter how hard I work, could never magically become one of them, so I see why I might have become resentful.
Arguing with Mace won’t help, anyway. He’s here, on this little quest, with me, and that’s what matters.
‘So this history geek side of you,’ I say, ‘you kept it well under wraps. I mean, there was no hint of it in your online interviews.’
Mace’s smile makes my heart go pitter-patter.
‘How do you know what I said or didn’t say in interviews?’ he teases.
‘I watched a couple.’
Telling him the truth – that I never, ever got over the fact that we were wrenched apart – has the potential to become very embarrassing, very quickly.
I change tack again. ‘So, you think that Commanders should be selected from other Quarters as well, then?’
Mace pokes me in the ribs, and his face takes the intense, crazed expression he gets when he’s on to something. Oh, I remember it. And how I missed it. ‘Nice try, Ellie. But you’re dodging my question.’
I shrug. ‘I feel like you’re not taking me seriously.’
He breaks into a wide grin. ‘Ellie, what are you trying to hide?’ Amusement sparks in his eyes and I realise I’m totally lost for this version of him. ‘Tell me. What are you so terrified to confess?’
‘Look,’ I say, as though I find it annoying, when I’m actually pretty mortified, that Mace could peg me as some kind of stalker. ‘Maybe I have watched some of your interviews and seen some footage of you training in the arena. Big deal.’
He grins. ‘The AI that controls our very existence in The Citadel has been spying on me for you,’ he says. ‘Kind of sweet, really.’
My nostrils flare. ‘I wouldn’t call it spying. It’s an open, common space. Everyone knows that training is supervised and recorded.’
He lifts his eyebrows. ‘Sure. And I can’t say that I’m not flattered.’
My cheeks flush. He’s simply infuriating. ‘I have no idea why I’m telling you this crap.’
‘I agree,’ he says. ‘You should probably have taken this secret to the grave. There’s no way that I’ll ever forget any of this.’
‘Bring it on,’ I say. After all, he can’t possibly embarrass me more than I’ve just embarrassed myself.
I look up at him, and he’s looking back at me. He isn’t the boy I used to know – it’s more complicated than that – but he’s here, and he’s real, and being with him feels as natural as breathing.
It feels so good that it hurts. I can’t even bear it.
Because it hurt so much when The Citadel tore us apart nine years ago. And I couldn’t bear to lose him again, knowing that being together feels like this.
I’m the one to look away first, and at the map to check our position. The cluster of sensors we were hunting isn’t far off. But I notice something else, too. ‘Shit,’ I say. ‘What is this, Mace?’