Firstlife. Gena Showalter

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СКАЧАТЬ me of someone I loved and like her, you’re going to do great things for our realm.

      I’d adored her. Once. She was the one who told my parents to send me to Prynne. I’d heard them talking. At first, my dad resisted the idea. When Madame promised him the experience would toughen me up, help me become the person I was meant to be, and snap me out of my pouty teenage refusal to sign with Myriad, he finally relented. Then he convinced my mother.

      “Well,” Bow says, and I can’t tell what emotion she’s projecting. I only know it’s negative. “You must be as important to Myriad as you are to Troika. No one I know has ever had two MLs.”

      Me, either. But... “Myriad doesn’t have Conduits.”

      “No, they have Abrogates. Those who extinguish the light. The most powerful people in their realm.” She glares at me. “If you sign with Myriad, you won’t only deny Troika a Conduit, you’ll drain the Conduits we do have.”

      I rub the back of my neck. “What would happen then?”

      “Troika would plunge into darkness right alongside Myriad. It’s what the other realm has always wanted. It’s what we’ve always fought.” Bow bites her lower lip. “Are you sure you can resist Killian’s...charms?”

      “Definitely.” His eyes make my blood sing... “Possibly. Hopefully.” His smirking mouth and blatant innuendos make my blood boil... “Definitely.”

      She pushes out a heavy breath. “Do you have any experience with the opposite sex?”

      “I’ve had a boyfriend,” I tell her, suddenly defensive.

      “Here? He was human?”

      “Of course.”

      “How do you know?” she asks.

      “How else? I was allowed to touch him.” Every Laborer comes to earth in a Shell, a humanoid outer casing that somehow makes a spirit tangible to the physical world.

      Despite that tangibility, we’re forbidden from touching the Shells for any reason. Without being told why!

      She crosses her arms. “What was he like? This boyfriend?”

      “His name was James. I met him my first week. He snuck me food when I was starved and salve every time I was beaten.” The true miracle? In the quiet of the night, he made me laugh. “Why the curiosity about him?”

      “Duh. I’m nosy. You know this. Was he Unsigned?”

      “No. He was secretly a Myriad loyalist—” Vans would have fired him if he’d known “—but he rarely talked realm business with me.” He saw me, not a potential realm-mate.

      “Ah.” She makes a face as she nods. “He was doing the long con.”

      “Excuse me?” What did that mean?

      “The long con requires more planning and preparation. A longer window of interaction with a target as well as a longer period of time to execute the main objective—signing you.”

      White-hot anger sparks. “Not everyone is obsessed with eternity.”

      “Yeah, but wouldn’t the guy who claimed to love you want you to be with him forever? And you once mentioned bonuses... I bet staff and inmates alike receive them.”

      She...she... Oh! She’s ticking me off!

      “What else did you like about him?”

      “Screw you. I’m done with this subject.”

      She gives a regal wave of her hand, all the queen wishes you to proceed. “Was he staff or inmate?”

      “Staff. And he lived for me—then he died for me.” Apparently I’m not done with the subject. My chin trembles, my defensive tone echoing in my ears. “He was killed when he aided my escape attempt.”

      Nine months have passed since Dr. Vans shot him in the chest.

      A baby spends nine months in a mother’s womb. The phrase “on cloud nine” means to be happy or euphoric.

      I’m anything but happy. Maybe I should sign with Myriad. I’ll get to see James again.

      Part of me expected him to visit at least once. Even though the realms claim loved ones can damage a cause far worse than a stranger, so laws are in place to prevent after-death interactions.

      “You saw his actions,” Bow says, “but not his heart.”

      Is she serious? “Actions reveal heart.”

      “Not always. Deception is all about perception.”

      Okay. That’s it. “I’m done with this subject.” I mean it this time.

      “Of course you are.” With an unfeminine grunt, she falls onto her pillow. “You’re a runner.”

      The words are like a punch to the gut. “I’m a fighter.”

      “Ha! Fighters take a stand.”

      I throw myself on my bed and peer up at the ceiling, wishing I lived in a time before the realms existed. Not that there was such a time. There is and has always been a Firstking. He created both Myriad and Troika, a realm to give each of his sons. Then he created the Land of the Harvest and humans. Subjects to inhabit the kingdoms—after they picked a kingdom.

      Of course, one brother soon plotted to destroy the other, hoping to rule both realms, and a war ignited.

      Guess who says which brother is at fault?

      Many Ends was (supposedly) created for criminals, but ultimately became the home for the Unsigned.

      “Tenley Lockwood. You are expected in the commons.” The heavily accented female voice suddenly spills from the speakers strategically placed in our ceiling. Next, the door opens.

      Well, zero. The time has come.

      I give myself a pep talk: A pretty face won’t sway you, and pretty words won’t affect you. You will remain distanced. No boy is worth the hardships that accompany him—not here.

      “Be careful.” Bow’s anger drains, and worry takes its place. “Do you have steel panties? If yes, put them on right now.”

      I snort and rush into the hall, where I find Killian waiting for me. His eyes aren’t on me, but Bow, and they’re crackling with fury. His hands are balled into fists, ready to deliver.

      Bow remains in place, staring back through slitted lids, but her hands aren’t balled, and she doesn’t try to sneak out and murder him, so I consider it a major improvement.

      Like me, Killian has been relieved of his jumpsuit. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and both fit him to perfection. I mean, wow. If he was beautiful before, he’s exquisite now. He’s a boy—man—without equal.

      “How old are you?” I find myself asking.

      “Nineteen.” СКАЧАТЬ