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“Good to know. Send her my warmest regards.”

“Will do. In past games, did I ever talk about an alter ego?”

“You never spoke of her.” He reached a hand toward me, collecting the red strands of hair between his thumb and forefinger. Another lock had changed last week. “Because you were her.”

My grandmother had said my hair would permanently turn red, once I became the vicious Empress I was meant to be. “Is that the woman you want to shape the world after an apocalypse?”

“I know that you will return to Evie. Always.” Arm looped around my nonexistent waist, he turned back to the crib. “In all seriousness, I think this is perfect. And it makes things sink in, no? This is a crib. For our child.”

“Tell me about it.” When I’d been making the mattress out of sweet-smelling grasses and wool from some of Lark’s sheep, I’d been stunned to realize our baby would sleep on it soon.

“The idea seems surreal. I feel him kick against my palm and I sense our connection, but after two millennia, I can scarcely believe he’s coming in a couple of months.”

Yet I read unease in Aric’s eyes. “Still concerned you can’t touch him?” I took one of his beautiful hands and pressed my lips across his knuckles. So much lethality in these hands, yet they brought me only pleasure and comfort.

“The alternative is much worse. What if I can touch him—because he’s like me? I wouldn’t wish my fate on an enemy I hated, much less my own son.”

“Then he’ll just have to find someone as wonderful as I am,” I said with a smile, teasing him from his worry. “And he’ll treasure her all the more.”

“Evie . . .”—Aric laid his palms on my shoulders and pinned my gaze with his own—“you are going to make an incredible mother.”

My voice softened to a whisper as I said, “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Memory-talk me.”

His brows drew together. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that phrase.”

“You’re trying to make this moment into a memory for me to recall after you’re gone. Maybe I’ll be having a bad day, but I’ll look back and remember when you told me that I would make a great mom, and I’ll feel better.”

His smile was gentle. “Is that such an unwelcome scenario?”

“Yes. I want you to be with me. Not a memory.” The more I thought about what both Aric and Jack were planning, the madder I got. The two had no problem risking themselves, uncaring about how I felt. “You want me to survive the game, but you don’t want me to affect it. After this baby is born, that will change. Sol will empower me, and I will take out Richter—as I vowed I would do,” I said, and the icons on my hand seemed to vibrate with power.

Aric’s gaze flicked from my hand upward, and I realized he was watching another strand of my hair turn red.

16

The Hunter

Day 701 A.F.

“Punch it!” I yelled over the blustery winds that funneled through this valley pass.

Gabe, Kentarch, Sol, and I were at the bumper of the Beast, pushing as the Tower tried to drive us out of a heap of snow.

How many of these had we dealt with today? Beaucoup. Over ten hours, we’d managed a mile—which was about our running average over these last few weeks on the road.

Joules gunned the engine as we shoved.

I gritted my teeth, the cold doing a number on my bad leg. The tires spat dirty slush, but we didn’t budge the truck. I knocked my gloved fist on the back window. “Hold off a minute.”

Joules opened the door and leaned out. “We’re bloody stuck!”

Between breaths, I muttered, “Thanks for the live update, Tower.” Kentarch had been burning too much power today and couldn’t see where next to teleport us in this snowfall, so I turned to Sol. “You’re up. Melt us out of here.” His abilities could clear our way—or set off an avalanche. This place was ripe for one.

“I’m out of juice, Jack.” Sol’s expression was weary. “I think I’ll pass out if I use my rays again.” He gazed around us, as if he could see more than two feet in any direction.

We’d learned the hard way that if he used up all his reserves, he had no control over local Baggers. On the upside, most were beginning to freeze. On the downside, the ones who hadn’t sought him out like a beacon.

During a blizzard last week, a dozen snow-coated zombies had attacked. As the storm disoriented us, Gabe had struggled to use his wings in the howling winds. After one stiff gust, he’d almost disemboweled Joules with a wayward talon.

“C’mon, you keep telling us you’re a god,” I said to Sol. “Gods doan run out of juice.” I sounded like an asshole. I was kind of turning into one.