Hate? I stumble. Does he know I married Killian?
Someone steps in front of him, blocking him from view before I can speak with him. My gaze lands on my great-grandmother Hazel, and my mind trips along after it. Such a precious woman! Beside her is my great-grandfather Steven. If I fail to vote for Meredith, their daughter, they’ll be hurt.
I swallow the lump growing in my throat. Next I see Millicent, my little brother’s nanny, and Jeremy. My heart squeezes. As he wiggles and giggles, I pause to caress his soft cheekbone.
—Ten!—
His voice drifts along the Grid, filling my mind. This isn’t the first time he’s spoken to me this way, but I’m still startled. —Hey, baby bro. I love you so much.—
—Love, too.—
“Get him out of here,” I whisper to Millicent. “Keep him safe.” If there’s a riot after I render my vote, I don’t want an infant caught in the chaos.
Her jaw drops, and she blinks rapidly. Then she nods and works her way through the crowd, heading in the opposite direction.
Keep moving. Get this done. A royal palace is ahead, with walls made of diamond, sapphire and ruby, emerald, topaz, and beryl, onyx and jasper. Every gem is flawless, breathtaking.
Before the palace is a bridge. Before the bridge is a dais.
Tremors flood me. On the dais stands the Secondking. The majestic Eron, Prince of Doves, is wearing a spectacular violet robe with gold seams and a hem that glitters as if it’s been soaked in Lifeblood. He’s tall and leanly muscular, with dark skin and eyes bluer than a morning sky, brighter than a sapphire and lovelier than a blue jay.
Despite the majesty of those eyes, his face is plain. A fact that always astounds me. He should be a showstopper.
Who am I kidding? He is a showstopper. Appearance means nothing. Heart, everything. Love and power radiate from him. So much power. Too much for one person to bear. Well, an ordinary person. Eron is far from ordinary. Light shines from his pores, radiant and pure, warming me.
In the back of my mind, the shadows shudder with fear. I grin.
Behind the Secondking stands each of our thirteen Generals. They represent a mix of nationalities and hail from all over the Land of the Harvest. Today they are dressed in turquoise robes with metal links sewn into the shoulders to denote their exalted station.
My grin fades. Do the other Generals know that Luciana and Shamus are holding Killian hostage?
The shadows seize upon the rage that sparks inside me, and dip their toes in the waters of my mind...ripples flow along the Grid. Threatening to invade other doors?
Careful. In an effort to control the emotions, I breathe deeply and turn my focus to the others. The handsome Alejandro gives me a nod of greeting. I’ve always liked him, and I hope beyond hope that I have an ally in him—no matter what. Jane and Spike give me a nod of greeting, as well, while the others implore me with their gazes.
I can almost hear the chant inside their heads. Choose Orion. Please.
Tremors shake me. With my head high, I ascend the steps, the pitter-patter of my feet almost as loud as a scream. I walk onto the dais, stop a few feet from Eron and kneel, at the same time crossing my arms over my chest to form an X. As I raise my arms, they uncross to form a V. A show of my fealty.
Just like that. The rest of the world vanishes. I’m alone with Eron, surrounded by Light and fluffy white clouds.
“Rise,” he tells me, his voice like music and thunder and rain all at once.
I obey, my mind whirling. “Where are we? Why are we here?” Whoa. Bring it down a notch. This is my king. Be respectful or be quiet.
“Consider this today’s briefing.”
Great. Wonderful. Hesitant, I say, “You know about my bond with Killian.”
“I do.”
He offers no protests. “You support us?” I suspected, but confirmation will—
“I do,” he repeats. “Love never fails.”
Confirmation will thrill me. I stand taller. “Some would argue I don’t know real love.”
“Some are deceived.”
He says no more, and I don’t press my luck.
“Would you like to know why I gave you the sole vote in this Resurrection?” he asks.
“Yes.” The word leaves me so quickly, it’s almost a hiss.
“After the bombing I realized a startling truth. You, Tenley Lockwood, are not a Conduit.”
I gape at him, certain I misheard. “I’m not?”
“You are the first of your kind. A Conduit and an Architect.”
“A what now?” I’ve never heard the term in association to a position here.
“You possess the amazing ability to make Conduits.”
Part of me wants to argue with him. The other part of me accepts the knowledge without reservation. Look at Raanan. I suspected this. And really, in Troika, nothing is impossible.
“How?” I ask. And, wow. Wow, wow, wow. Being one of only two Conduits capable of cleansing Penumbra had come with tremendous responsibility and pressure.
Without pressure, there would be no diamonds.
Now there is another, and there will be more.
The ferocity of Eron’s gaze intensifies, nearly drilling me to my knees. “Do you know what apocalypse means?”
I nod, even as my stomach churns. “The destruction of the world.”
“That is one meaning, yes. But the other? A revealing. The end of the war nears, and with it, change comes.” He motions to the horse branded on my wrist. “Change rides his—or her—warhorse. You are the first of many. There will be others, on both sides.”
My mouth goes dry. Killian bears a horse on his wrist, as well. Is he on our side—or Myriad’s?
“How do I make Conduits?” I’ve touched others. Killian. Clay. Luciana, even. Only Raanan has made the transition.
“When you find a candidate who is ready,” he says, “your Light will know, and do the work for you.”
That...makes sense. But I’ll have to ponder the pros and cons later. I’m not sure how long I’ll have Eron’s undivided attention. “I still don’t understand why you gave me the vote.”
“Don’t you?” He offers me an indulgent smile. “I value life. All life. Like you, I crave peace.”
Nice to know I’m on the same page with someone like Eron. He is a good king and a great man. I can’t—no, I won’t—let him down. And not just him, but everyone; even those who do not fully comprehend. My baby brother has to live in the world we create. I can fight to give him something better, or let him wade through whatever crapstorm we allow to rage.
“What if people are disappointed with my choice? Or infuriated?” I ask. “Will you stand with me?”
The look he gives me can be described only as indulgent. “I’m always with you, even during the most trying times. Especially during the most trying times. Just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not there. Just because things go badly one day, doesn’t mean I’m not working to make them better the next.”
That’s fair.
“You’ve read the Book of the Law,”