Page 81 of Last of Her Name

“Fine? The Committee is right there!” He points through the window. “We have to decide what to do.”

“I’ve already decided,” I whisper.

Pol stares, and I see realization dawn in him as the color drains from his cheeks. His eyes drive into me, unblinking. Unbelieving.

“Stacia.”

I back toward the stairs and shake my head. “Go back. Please.”

“What are you doing up here?” His voice is soft, the way he would talk to a spooked mantibu. “Where are you going?”

But he knows. I can see that he knows, and just doesn’t want to admit it.

I run my hand over my face, feeling weary to the bone. When he takes a step toward me, I raise my hand to stop him.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life running, Pol. And I can’t ask you to do that, either.”

“You don’t have to ask me anything. My mind was made up years ago. Where you go, I go, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” I feel tears sting the corners of my eyes; I blink them away. “I won’t have you, not anymore. I release you from your vows and whatever lingering sense of duty you have toward me. Go back, Pol. Please.”

He closes the distance between us in three steps, his hands locking around my elbows.

“Youcalled them,” he whispers. “You called the Committee.”

“I’m not negotiating this with you.”

“You would surrender to them, after everything we’ve been through toescapethem?”

“If I’d done it in the first place, Clio would be safe. Everyone would be safe. I was scared then. I thought they’d kill me. But now I know I’m more useful to them alive. I’ll be okay, Pol.” At least for now. At least until I give them what they want, and then I go from being a valuable asset to a viable threat. But I’ve already thought all of this through, and I still came to the same conclusion: This is the only right move I have left.

He lowers his face a moment, a struggle playing out across his features. His pale horns glint as he shakes his head.

“No.” His fingers tighten on my arms and he looks up, his gray eyes steely. “This isn’t how this ends. You’re staying here, and we’re going to figure out a plan.”

“Maybe we do.” I raise my fingers to his shoulders, gripping his coat to keep my hands from shaking. “Maybe we slip away to some other system and try to start over, until the Committee catches up and we have to figure outanotherplan, and run away again. Maybe we do this over and over for the rest of our lives.”

“At least it wouldbea life. If you go to them now, you’ll be a prisoner. I’ll never see you again.”

“And you’ll be free. And if I play this right, so will Clio. You can find each other. You can be together.” His protests have banished the last of my hesitation. I’d almost hoped for the opposite—that he could talk me out of this. That he could offer some magical third solution to save us all and make everything go back to the way it was before.

But there is no going back.

There is only this moment, and this choice.

He raises a fist to his forehead in frustration. “I can’t watch you run into their hands.”

“Then don’t watch.”

“Agh!” He turns away, raking his hands through his hair, the muscles of his neck taut.

My window of time is closing. If Alexei Volkov thinks I’ve backed out, hewillattack Tyrrha. That’s probably why they crossed the wall, instead of waiting beyond it like they said they would—it’s a warning. I have to follow through, or they’ll destroy this city and everyone in it, just like they did Afka.

I have to get out of here, and Pol’s the only thing in my way.

“This doesn’t end well for anyone!” he says. “Even if it worked out the way you want, they’d still use you to get the Prismata. And if Zhar was telling the truth, that means they’d controleverything. We’d all be prisoners, theirs to manipulate and destroy and exploit.”

I shrug. “Aren’t we already?”