Page 101 of Last of Her Name

And I am holding the key to them.

The idea is half-baked and clumsy, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve never attempted anything like it. I don’t know if it will work, and if I waste what precious seconds I have on a plan I can’t execute, then I might as well shoot Pol myself. If I touch the wrong wire, I could set off the charge that launches the missiles, and Afka and everyone in it will be obliterated.

This isn’t something I can rush.

I needtime.

I look at Pol, sickened by what I’m about to ask of him. But this is the only way—the blasted amethyst gambit.

I tap my bare wrist in the universal sign fortime, and mouth,Please.

His eyes widen with understanding. He whispers hurriedly to Riyan and Mara, then throws himself sideways, crashing into Volkov. The direktor falls with a startled shout. He starts to look my way, but Pol yells, “Death to the Union!” and draws his attention away with a kick to the direktor’s thigh. It’s a wonderful sight, but I have to look away and focus on my own work.

I rip off my multicuff and pull out a few tools, hiding it in the folds of my skirt. At least this dress is good forsomething. Everything—everything—depends on this. I have to trust that I can do it.

Me. Not the Firebird, or my ancestry, or anything else.

The vityaze activates Pol’s collar. As Pol is forced to his knees, his teeth gritted against the pain, Riyan and Mara lunge at the soldier.

The man activates all their collars as the other knights rush to help. Meanwhile, my fingers are a blur, sorting through my tools and jamming them into the transmitter, exposing its circuitry. I’m mostly just guessing at what I’m doing, trusting my instinct and my hands.

Riyan fights through the pain and tessellates the air around the man, trying to crumple the tabletka he’s using to control their collars. For a moment, my heart leaps, as I realize Riyan still has his power; they must have fled Diamin before his sentence was carried out. Maybe we have a chance after all.

Then Natalya steps in.

Her hands spread, and the air fills with cracks. The sound is deafening, splintering, shuddering, and even the vityazes step back, looking uneasy as the Red Tensor unleashes her power. She twists the air and focuses her stress field on Pol, Riyan, and Mara. They fight back with everything in them, Riyan managing to tessellate just enough to keep them from being crushed.

Wrenching my eyes away, I focus on the transmitter. Volkov and the vityazes are so intent on the three prisoners that they don’t notice my busy hands and the parts hidden in my skirt.

I just have to stop my fingers from shaking. They’re so weak that my tools keep slipping, and I have to pause to wipe my clammy palms. The longer it takes, the more panicked I grow. Volkov was right. I am weak. I am broken. I can’t even fit a wrench around a bolt.

C’mon, Stace, a voice echoes in my head.Pull it together.

I freeze as a pair of hands covers mine.

Slowly, slowly, I look up, and catch my breath.

Clio’s blue eyes stare into mine, her face solemn, her hands around my wrists. She looksso realthat I glance beyond her to see if anyone else has noticed. But Pol and Riyan are still fighting against Natalya’s control, while Mara struggles to pry off her collar. Volkov is watching them, his back turned. And no one sees the golden-haired girl kneeling in front of me.

“You can’t be here,” I whisper, looking back at Clio.

Stars, how I ache to throw my arms around her. But I have to keep working. I have to save the ones whoarereal.

Eyes on the prize, Androva.

The words she always yelled from the sidelines during my geeball matches. They echo through me like an aftershock. She’s the ghost of a girl who never was, but she’smyghost. Her presence soothes my spirit, focuses my thoughts.

Good, she murmurs.Now, which circuit controls the transmitter signal? Which one will blow up Afka if you touch it?

I work faster, drawing strength from her presence. I can hear her, feel her, see her, like she’s right in front of me, holding me steady. She might notbereal, but she certainly feels like it.

That’s it, Stace. Us against the universe.

Done!

My hands tremble so much it takes three tries before I get the transmitter back together.

Nice work, says Clio.Now come and find me.