Rogue. Julie Kagawa

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       Garret

      Six hours till dawn.

      I lay on my cot with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling of my cell, watching the cracks blur and run together. Around me, the jail block was dark, quiet. The only light came from beneath the door to the guard station at the end of the hall, and I was the only prisoner in the room. I’d been given my last meal hours ago—rations and water, as the Order didn’t believe in final requests—and it had been delivered by a cold-faced soldier who had spit “dragonlover” at me before tossing it to the floor. Where it still lay, untouched, near the front of the cell.

      Six hours till dawn. Six hours before my cell door would open, and a pair of soldiers would step through, announcing that it was time. I’d be handcuffed, escorted across the training field and taken to the long brick wall facing the rising sun. There would be witnesses, of course. The Perfect Soldier was about to be executed for treason; there would probably be a crowd. Perhaps the entire base would turn out. I wondered if Tristan would be there, and Lieutenant Martin. I didn’t know if they would come; truthfully, I wasn’t certain I wanted them to witness my final moments, as a traitor to the Order. There would be a line of soldiers standing in front of that wall, six of them, all with loaded rifles. I would be taken before them, offered a blindfold, which I would refuse, and then I’d be left standing there alone, facing them all. The countdown would begin.

       Ready…

       Aim…

       Fire!

      I shivered, unable to stop myself. I wasn’t afraid to die; I’d prepared myself for death many times before. In the field, before a strike on a nest, or facing down a single dragon—we all knew that, at any moment, we could be killed. Soldiers died; it was a fact of life, one you couldn’t predict or avoid. There was no tactical reason the soldier standing just inches away would take a bullet to the temple and I would be spared. I was alive because I was good at what I did, but sometimes I’d just gotten lucky.

      But there was a distinction between cheating death and knowing the exact time it would come for you, down to the last second. And there was a difference between dying in battle and standing there with your hands behind your back, waiting for your former brothers in arms—the very soldiers you had fought with, bled with—to kill you.

      Five and a half hours till dawn.

      I didn’t regret my choice. I’d meant every word I said in the courtroom. And if it came down to it again, and I stood on that beach with the dragon I was sent to kill, knowing that if I let her go I would die instead… I would still choose to save her.

      But I had betrayed my Order, and everything I knew, to side with the enemy. I’d seen fellow soldiers die in front of me, torn apart by claws or blasted with dragonfire. I’d watched squad mates throw themselves in front of bullets or charge into the fray alone, just to give the rest of us an advantage. I knew I deserved death. I’d turned my back on the Order that raised me, the brothers who had died for the cause, to save our greatest foes. I knew I should feel remorse, crushing guilt, for family I’d betrayed.

      But lying on my cot, mere hours from my own execution, all I could think of was her. Where was she now? What was she doing? Did she think of me at all, or had I been long forgotten in the flight from Crescent Beach with the rest of her kind? Surely there’d be no reason for a soldier of St. George to cross her mind; she was free, she was with her own, and I was part of the Order. I was still the enemy of her people. Though it made me sick to think of it now, the number that had died by my hand. Ember should hate me. I deserved nothing less.

      But I still hoped she thought of me sometimes. And as the minutes of my life continued to slip away, I found myself thinking more and more of the moments we’d shared. Wondering what would’ve happened…had we both been normal. I knew that wishing was wasted energy, and regret changed nothing, but for perhaps the first time in my life, I wished we’d had more time. If I’d known what would happen, I would have spent every moment I could with her. I would have done a lot of things differently, but it was too late now. Ember was gone, and in a few hours, I was going to die. Nothing would change that, but at least her face would be the last thing on my mind before I left this world.

       I hope you’re happy, Ember, wherever you are. I hope…you’ll always be free.

      Five hours till dawn.