Page 34 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Briar

I’d always been drawn to strategy. Not just the rules, but the rhythm.

The way problems unfolded like puzzles. Goals mapped out, options weighed, assets positioned just right.

I understood how people thought, how they moved, how they could be steered or inspired or shattered.

Strategy was all about reading the field. Reading people.

It had served me well in the past.

But I never imagined it would come to this…standing over a battered map of Praxis, planning the overthrow of the very system that raised me.

Planning a rebellion. A rebellion that my own flesh and blood started.

Devrin stood beside me, arms crossed, jaw set. As much as a part of me still burned with resentment over what he pulled in the canals, I couldn’t ignore what he’d done since then. He helped save Ezra. And no matter how murky his past, he was just as much a victim of Praxis’s cruelty as we were.

That counted for something. Maybe not forgiveness. But something close to trust.

Edgar was sitting on an overturned crate, his eyes narrowing at the map in front of him, deep in thought..

“A direct assault would be a bloodbath,” I said, gesturing at the city’s outer sectors. “They’ve got guard towers at every approach. We’d be walking into a grinder.”

“I agree,” Devrin said, nodding. “We can’t win head-on. The only way to slip past is to disarm them, make them chase shadows.”

Bex sat on a crate a few feet away, unusually quiet. Her eyes flicked between us as we spoke, unfocused. Distant. Thorne was still out with Ezra and Zaffir, finishing the final tally of who had shown up for us.

And it was a lot. More than I expected.

Brexlyn had done that, rallied people from the fringes of Praxis, from the slums, the wastes, and the broken Collectives. She pulled them into the light. Gave them something to believe in. Gave us all a reason to hope.

And now, sitting here, she looked like it was all weighing on her at once.

She kept picking at her fingertips, rubbing the raw skin around her nails. The silence around her was louder than the rest of the camp.

I moved to kneel in front of her, gently taking her hands in mine. She had washed up and donned some new clothes courtesy of Edgar’s supplies, but she still faintly smelled of campfire. I found that the scent wasn’t as offending on her. She startled slightly, but met my eyes.

“Hey you,” I said softly.

“Sorry. I’m listening,” she murmured.

“I know. I just…” I hesitated, dropping my voice. “Are you okay?”

She gave a small nod. But I saw the way her shoulders hunched inward. The way she bit her lip.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Hollis,” I said gently, brushing a knuckle across her cheek.

She swallowed hard. “I guess I’m just scared,” she admitted. “I brought all these people here…thousands. And what if this plan fails? What if we led them out of hiding just to get them killed?”

I let the silence settle for a moment. I knew that fear. I carried it in my bones too.

“My Ma started this fight with nothing but a whisper and a fire in her chest,” I said. “And I don’t know if I have her courage either. But I do know what she’d tell both of us right now if she were here. We fight because the alternative is living in chains.”

I wish I’d let myself get to know that version of my mother.

Not just the caretaker. Not just the loving woman who rocked us to sleep. But the fire underneath…the rebel. The leader. The one who chose to resist when silence would’ve been safer.

The truth is, I did see it. Even if I didn’t care to admit it. The small acts of defiance. The way her eyes would harden when a patrol passed. The quiet protests no one else noticed, the things she fixed, the people she sheltered, the questions she dared to ask.

But I turned away.

Because if I looked too closely, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know. And if I acknowledged it, it became real. And real meant risk. Real meant danger.

And I was terrified for her.

So I looked past it, played blind. Convinced myself that protecting her meant not speaking it aloud, not calling attention to it. But all I was really doing was keeping myself safe from the fear. From the truth.

Thorne knew her in a way I didn’t. He saw that part of her fully, fought beside it, believed in it. He understood what she was building long before I did.

I regret that now.

I regret not sitting beside her in the dark, asking why she was willing to risk everything. I regret not hearing the full story of the rebellion she was trying to start, or how she held onto hope like it was armor. I regret not letting her see that I could’ve been brave, too.

It’s too late to know her like that, now.

But it’s not too late to finish what she started. To carry the torch she lit, even if I was too scared to touch it back then.

“I just don’t want these people to fight and die for nothing,” Bex replied, tears stinging her eyes.

From across the tent, Devrin spoke up. “They know the risks,” he said, voice low but firm.

Bex and I turned toward him.

“You don’t want to feel responsible for them. I get it,” he continued, standing straighter. “No one wants to be the reason someone doesn’t make it home. But these people showed up anyway. They chose this.”

Her fingers tightened around mine.

“They know there’s a chance they won’t walk out of here.

That we might fail. That Praxis might erase this rebellion and spin it into some bedtime cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the Archon,” he said, his eyes locking on mine then hers.

“But they also know there’s a chance we win.

That we finally get to breathe air that isn’t rationed by a government who doesn’t protect us. ”

He stepped closer.

“They’re not looking for guarantees. They’re looking for leaders. People willing to stand up and say, ‘We’ll give everything for the chance to live free.’” Edgar spoke up. He looked between Bex and me.

Devrin finished by meeting Bex’s gaze. “So don’t mourn them before the fight. Honor them by leading like they deserve.”

Bex stared at him for a moment, then let out a slow breath. She stood, walked toward him, and offered her hand. Devrin took it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry about almost killing you in the Trials,” he replied, that familiar glint of cockiness softening at the edges. But it sounded real this time.

Bex gave a small laugh. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to.”

Just then, the tent flaps opened and the rest of the Wildguard stepped inside, freshly cleaned and dressed thanks to Edgar’s foresight, faces set with resolve. Ezra was walking under his own power, still pale, but upright. Zaffir and Thorne flanked him, silent sentinels.

Thorne strode up to Bex without warning and scooped her up around the waist. She let out a surprised yelp that quickly turned into a breathless laugh, her arms flailing before she gave in to the moment.

“I’m cool with sharing you with these idiots,” he said, nodding toward the rest of us, “but I draw the line at that one.” He pointed dramatically at Devrin.

Devrin sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, a tired smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Put me down, Thorne,” Bex giggled. “I’m not looking to add to my little harem.”

“Good,” he murmured against her skin, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before spinning her in his arms and settling her against his chest, arms wrapped protectively around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, content.

I turned from their affection to face Ezra and Zaffir.

The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, united in that quiet way trauma often binds people.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t struggled to trust Zaffir at first. Maybe because he was born in Praxis.

Maybe because he got to sit out the trials while the rest of us bled for our survival.

But when we stepped off that bus and I saw Zaffir in a new light, arms wrapped tightly around Bex and Ezra as if he could somehow hold all their broken pieces together with sheer will alone…I saw it.

The pain.

The devastation.

The truth that he had been carrying it all in silence, tucked behind that sharp Praxis-born composure.

He wept like someone who had spent every hour of every day watching the people he loved be torn apart and could do nothing to stop it.

And that’s exactly what he’d done. He hadn’t been on the front lines with us in the trials, hadn’t bled in the dirt, hadn’t taken the hits or felt the fear rise in his throat every time the speakers crackled to life with a new decree, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t suffered.

He suffered differently .

He suffered alone .

He watched Bex fight to stay human. Watched Ezra get burnt half to death. Watched me nearly fall to my death. Watch Thorne struggle to keep his humor amongst the pain. And through it all, he could only watch.

So when he broke, when his sobs cracked the air around us and his hands clutched his people like lifelines, I realized something…he really was one of us.

Cut off from the fight but not from the pain. Not from the guilt. And now, finally, he was here. With us. Ready to do something. To take Praxis apart from the inside.

I was glad Bex had him.

I was glad Ezra did too.

And even though I hadn’t trusted him at first, I did now. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“So, we ready to make a plan?” Ezra asked, a spark in his eyes.

“Edgar, how many people do we have out there?” I asked.

He glanced up at me, a soft smirk on his weathered face. “Just over seven thousand.”

Devrin gave a low whistle. “Damn.” He chuckled. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

“Wow,” Bex whispered. She leaned into Thorne, and he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“It’s a hell of a showing,” I said.

“But we’re still outnumbered,” Zaffir added cautiously. “I’m not trying to kill the mood, but if we charge in blind, we lose.”

He was right. We had momentum, but not numbers.