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She huffs as she stands, tossing her project down on the bunk "I knew I’d get stuck babysitting," shevery es the pillow

The oes by quicker now I remember the way, at least, ande Reds Both tell the tale of Barracks 3, which seenated "family" structure The people here don’t look like soldiers of the Guard, and I doubt ht I see evidence of children, even a few babies, who fled with their families or were taken to Tuck One room in particular overfloith old or broken toys, its walls hastily painted a sickly yellow in an atte written on the door, but I understand who the roo anywhere but the cage for living ghosts

Piping runs the length of the ceiling, carrying with it a slow but steady pulse of electricity What powers this island, I don’t know, but the deep huno one can take away, not here, so far fro ability of the now dead Silver Arven Yesterday he albut the dirt beneath her fingernails In the arena, I barely had tihtened of such a prospect, but now it haunts h it separates me from everyone else But for power, forto pay

"What’s it like?" Gisa says, followingto feel what I can, but comes back empty "The electricity?"

I don’t knohat to tell her Julian would explain quite easily, probably debating hi the history of abilities and how they came to be But Maven told me only yesterday thatMaven, not to mention Elara, Julian is ave tothe brother of the girl the old king truly loved

"Power," I finally say, wrenching open the door to the outside world Sea air presses against th"

Silver words, but true all the same

Gisa is not one to let me off the hook so easily Still, she falls silent She understands her questions are not any I want to answer

In the daylight, Tuck seeht overhead, warives way to a sparse collection of trees Nothing like the oaks and pines of hoh for now Gisa leads us across the concrete yard, navigating through the bustle of activity Guards more crates like the ones I saw on the o, but strange soldiers in new uniforht color of House Osanos, but so cold and dark It’s familiar but I can’t place it They look like Farley, tall and pale, with bright blond hair cut aggressively short Foreign, I realize They stand over the cargo piles, rifles in hand, guarding the crates

But guarding the onto et away froo, his eyes narrowed

"Why not? Who are they?"

She shakes her head, tugging again "Not here"

Naturally, I want to stop, to stare at the soldier until he realizes who and what I am But that is a foolish, childish need I irl broken by the world I let Gisa lead on and away

"The Colonel’s men," she whispers as soon as we’re out of earshot "They came doith him froasping in surprise She nods, stoic

Now the uniforms, the color of a cold lake, , but they’re here, with us Norta has been at ith the Lakelands for a century, fighting over land, food, and glory The kings of fire against the kings of winter, with both red and silver blood in between But the dawn, it see for them all

"The Colonel’s a Lakelander After what happened in Archeon"--her face pains, though she doesn’t know the half ofto Tra aton my sleeve "Who is the Colonel, Gisa?"