Page 98 of Last of Her Name

Across the room, the Head of Defense is nodding, his eyes glinting with appreciation.

“You … want me to wipe out my home?” My voice cracks.

“Stacia Androva’shome, not yours.” He crosses to stand between Pol and Riyan, putting a hand on either boy’s shoulder. They flinch at his touch, Pol’s lips pulling back to show his teeth.

“Prove who you are, or I will be forced to strip away, bit by bit, every remaining piece of Stacia Androva. Claim your place or be dragged into it.”

I stare at him in horror.

Pol jerks away from the direktor. “Stace,don’tpress that—”

He drops to his knees with a howl of pain as the collar on his throat activates. He shudders, one hand gripped around the metal band, until the charge fades. But still he grimaces with pain, the blood draining from his face. All the while, Volkov stands behind him, his expression impassive.

I clench the transmitter, my chest compressing. My mind flashes back to that terrible day on Afka, my father pulling me away as the vityazes beat Pol, telling me that interfering would only get him killed. It feels like we’ve come full circle, like everything between then and now has been for nothing.

“Please stop this,” I whisper to Volkov. “I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Thendoit. Prove you are a Leonova. Prove you’re strong enough.” His eyes are cold; my friends’ pain doesn’t affect him in the least. “Once I have what I need, all this will end. You will be free. Your friends will be free. Just give me the Firebird.”

A vityaze hauls Pol back to his feet. Sweat runs down his temples, and his skin is pale and drawn. He raises his eyes to mine, and this time, I can barely see his defiance for the pain that creases his face. It’s as if the shock aged him five years.

I look down at the button.

One simple press, and it would be over.

No one in Afka would ever know. My parents probably aren’t even there anymore.

I could save Pol and Mara and Riyan; I could give Volkov what he wants, and then he could deliver on his end of the deal: letting my friends and me disappear.

We could walk away from all this. I could have Pol; I could find my parents.

We could befree.

“End this war, Princess,” Volkov murmurs. “We have a real chance to create lasting peace, you and me. I am not your enemy here.”

Not my enemy?

I look up at him, my eyes focusing on his.

He craves to be a hero, Lilyan Zhar had said. Here he is, torturing my friends, forcing me to make this terrible choice, casually igniting genocide. And evenstill, he wants to be the hero. He wants me to believe his way is the right way. Stars, he probably believes it himself. He’s totally bought into his own propaganda.

But I see through him.

This isn’t about ending the war.

“You don’t care about peace,” I say. “All you want is the Firebird code. You want to use it to control the Prismata, so nobody can ever threaten your power. You’re just another tyrant.”

He looks at me with those second eyes, those eyes like black holes. “I have no such intention. I don’t want your power or the Prismata. Humanity will not be ruled by gods, Anya Leonova.”

I blink, my conviction faltering. “Then … then what is this about? What is all this for? If you don’t want control of the Prismata, then what do youwant?”

He spreads his hands, as if the answer should be simple. “I want to destroy it.”

A pit opens in my stomach.“What?”

Gasps echo from the Committee members, some of whom stare at Volkov with jaws hanging open. They seem as stunned as I am. The vityazes are unreadable behind their helmets, but several of them shift in place, their hands moving to their guns.

As if unaware of the reaction he’s caused, Volkov just looks at me. We might as well be the only two in the room.