Page 130 of Last of Her Name

“You guys might want to buckle in,” says Natalya, reappearing.

“Huh?” Pol stiffens. “More debris?”

She shakes her head. “We’re going to warp.”

Pol and I exchange looks.

“But … there’s no power,” I point out, as if informing her that water is wet.

She shrugs, and then Riyan calls down from the control deck, “Not anymore! We were out for several hours, but it’s back up now. The Prism sort of … woke up. It’s weak, so it’s taken a lot longer to charge the Takhdrive, but I think we can make it now. Just tell me where to go.”

I look at Pol, and he looks at me.

“How is that possible?” he asks. “We drained the crystal on the way here, and wesawthe Prismata explode. All the Prisms went dark.”

“I’m not an expert.”

“Stacia, you’re theonlyexpert when it comes to this stuff.”

I struggle to my feet, feeling wobbly. Putting out a hand to brace myself, I shake my head. “Maybe—”

I pause, staring at my multicuff.

It’sglowing, light shining through the seams in the metal.

I pull off my glove so I can unlatch the cuff. I pry open the panel on the inside, where the Prism battery is stored. It’s supposed to last a lifetime, but when I expose it, I gasp. The thin wires around the battery are frayed, filaments splayed and bare and sparking. And among them, nestled like a pearl, is a tiny glowing ball.

Breath held, I gently reach into the wires and grasp the little thing. It’s hard, no bigger than a pea. Extracting it and setting it onto my other palm, I stare in astonishment. It shines golden white, perfectly smooth, perfectly round.

I raise it up between my thumb and forefinger again and, peering closely, see it start to push out a tiny little crystal, like a seed sprouting. Closing my eyes, I reach for it with my thoughts—and gasp when it reaches back. Its touch is no more than a feather’s brush against my mind, but it’sthere. The seed is alive, conscious, pulsing with potential.

Hope is born in darkness.

Clio knew. She knew the missiles were coming. She knew the Prismata would not survive. Maybe she evenchosenot to.

And she gave herself to me.

This is the soul of the Prismata; that great, massive life reduced and compacted into this tiny seed. It must have fled a moment before it exploded, a spark of energy sent back to the station with me, after it cast me away. It was with me the whole time, burning against my skin.Shewas with me, as she always has been.

Pol leans over, eyes wide. “What is it?”

Letting out a shuddering breath, I reply, “Hope.”

“Are you ready?” Pol asks, the doors of the Solariat tall and imposing behind him.

“Is it too late to run?”

He grins. “You say the word, Princess. We could be in Rubyat in five days.”

With a sigh, I tug at the tight fabric around my waist. The structured blue dress, the shoes, the jewelry—all of it feels wrong. Like a costume. Worst of all is the crown atop my head, heavy as a shackle.

“Why should they listen to me?”

Pol takes my hands and pulls me close. “Because you turned the lights back on.”

When we limped into Emerault’s system, twenty days after my parents died, we learned that the Prismata’s destruction had caused a galaxy-wide blackout for five hours. Casualties were low, considering. Each system lost several thousand lives, people from stations or ships who had no backup, non-Prismic power. Still, it was a price that should never have been paid. I have to remind myself their deaths are Volkov’s fault, not mine—but it’s hard not to feel guilt, to wonder if I might have saved the Prismata if I’d only been faster or smarter.

“Hey.” Pol’s fingers brush my chin. “We keep moving forward, okay?”