“What can you tell me about the rebellion?”

Eli looked back over his shoulder, glancing up at Mara, then down at Nick who toddled along between them. They’d been walking all night, the limp gray dawn only just having risen, and the pale light made his hair shine silver as he turned back around.

“What do you want to know?”

Mara chewed on her lip for a moment. That would have been a good question to contemplate during the long dark hours of the night.

“Do you think it’s going to fail?”

His stride didn’t falter, but she could tell by the time it took him to answer that the bluntness of the question had caught him off guard. “I don’t know. I’m not a Keeper.”

“You’re also not just some bodyguard. Don’t think I haven’t pieced that together. You know things. You definitely know more than me. So what do you think? Is it doomed?”

They’d reached the bottom of a steep draw, and he turned to bridge the creek that ran through it, one foot on either side. He hoisted Nick easily across the burbling water, then offered her a hand which she accepted. Her pride was not worth wet boots. When they were halfway up the far side of the draw and he still hadn’t answered, Mara decided to rephrase her question. “I guess what I’m really asking is if we ruined things by running.”

He sighed. “I’m sure some will think so.”

“Do you think so?”

“No.”

“Why?”

The conversation petered out again as the hill grew perilously steep and they both turned their efforts toward the climb, and to making sure Nick didn’t lose his purchase and fall. Though in truth he was steadier than she was. When they reached the ridgeline, Eli slowed down, hoisting Nick onto his shoulders.

“All I can give you is my opinion.”

“Good, because that’s what I’m asking for.”

It took so long for him to continue, Mara wondered if he was searching for the words to answer or searching for the words to tell her not to ask.

“The rebellion has been developing for generations. The Enclave itself has been around for so long it’s no longer a secret outpost so much as a hidden city.”

“Right,” Mara said, mostly to demonstrate that she was following and to encourage him to keep going.

“It’s always been an underground movement, which made sense at the outset. The Order’s armed power is too great to best in an outright war, and their persuasive campaigns have the vast majority of the citizenry under tight control. Their only real weakness is their reliance on persuasion to keep their own ranks in line–it cripples their ability to wield shadow-casters in a defensive capacity. The rebellion has always seized on that weakness, taking advantage the only way it can–by building a network of support in its power structure.”

Nothing Mara didn’t know. What she didn’t know was where he was going with it. “But we’ve betrayed that effort. That’s what I’m saying. The Order is an underground movement and we brought it into the light.”

“Yes, we have. And there will be–already are–consequences. But that doesn’t mean the rebellion is doomed.”

“How can you say that? We ruined the main effort.”

“A main effort that has been in operation for over a century. Our parents’ parents swore oaths to that objective, and what has it accomplished? Successive generations of leadership, tucked away in the safety of the Enclave while the people they claim to serve continue to suffer. Successive ranks of rebels seeding the Order with compatriots who have no mission and may live entire lives and die of old age waiting to receive one. Families torn apart–” He broke off, breathing deeply through his nose, and reached up to hold onto Nick’s ankles as if to remind himself that young ears were listening.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

When he went on, his voice had lost its heat. “The rebellion reached a point of stasis decades ago. We shattered that stasis when we ran, but I don’t think we doomed it to failure. Failure would have been to carry on forever, building subsequent generations of hidden fighters with no war to wage. Elise and Rorick are brilliant strategists. They know something needs to change, but they’ve been hesitant to escalate the conflict. They had too much to lose.”

Mara glanced at Nick, but of course he wasn’t following the conversation. He’d caught sight of a hawk circling overhead and had his neck craned back to watch it, one hand grasping Eli’s ear for balance.

“And now?” she asked, though she suspected she knew the answer.

“Now they have nothing to lose except their cause. His cause. They won’t let it come to nothing.”

He worded it carefully in deference to Nick’s presence, but she understood him well enough to see the hidden implication–that he thought Davy’s death and all the pain and suffering that resulted from their running were ultimately a good thing. Something that needed to happen. Realization struck her like fist to the temple.

“Is that why you rescued us?” This, too, had been a persistent question squirming around in the crowded places of her mind–why had he run back to the Capital, risking his life and further exposing the rebellion’s reach just for her and for Nick. Mere loyalty to a friend didn’t explain that. But now she understood. He’d seen an opportunity–to force Davy’s parents’ hand by outing the rebellion at a time when they’d be vulnerable to do what he thought was best: bring the fight out into the open. She stopped walking, heart thudding. “Did you want this to happen?”

He stopped as well and turned around, hands still looped around Nick’s ankles. Her son had turned his attention toward her as well, and both sets of eyes bored into her. “No,” Eli said.

She fought to keep calm. “It sounds like maybe you did.”

He grimaced and shifted Nick’s weight before lifting him down and giving him a gentle push, pointing toward a tree some yards away. “Nick, buddy, I think we might fish during lunch. Can you flip that rock and see if you can find us some worms?”

Nick scampered off to see to his task, and Eli stepped closer to Mara, lowering his volume to a harsh whisper. “I came for you because Davy wanted me to. He asked it of me, I agreed, and I would sooner die than betray his trust. But you can disabuse yourself of the notion that I had any desire for any of this to happen.” As he spoke a burning heat radiated from the words, hotter with each syllable, and shadows of uncharacteristic fury danced around him. “I admit, I’ve wanted the rebellion’s strategy to evolve for some time, but if I was blessed with any agency, this is not the path I would have taken to see it happen.”

This was, she realized, the closest she had ever seen Eli come to heated anger. She’d seen him fight, but his approach to combat was distinctly brisk. She’d seen him irritated, but his patience tended to run too deep to see what lay beneath. But right now she caught a glimpse of embers in his eyes that would scorch if she tried to touch them.

“Okay,” she said, holding up her hands. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked and swallowed, the shadows falling away. “I’m sorry. You were only asking a question.”

“A rude question.”

“A fair one.”

They stood for a few breaths, studying each other, and Mara wondered if he searched in her for the same thing she sought in him–some sign that the brief upheaval in their peaceful dynamic had truly passed. Or would there be aftershocks? Would subsequent moments of friction rise up and rub away at the veneer of polite regard they’d painted between them?

All she knew for sure was that this particular ripple had passed. In silent agreement, Eli left to check on Nick’s progress with the worms and Mara went to a nearby boulder to hitch her pack atop it, taking some of the weight off her shoulders. She drank a few sips from her flask and marinated in what she’d learned in the short conversation, the rusty gears of her mind turning over. Her most immediate concern was how it would affect Nick. What had before seemed like a wise enough choice–taking her son to the place where his family name could best protect him–now seemed rash and irresponsible.

When Eli came back, Nick once more on his shoulders, she opened her mouth to ask him if it was too late to change her mind. Could they still turn south and sail the Stormway and find a new, less perilous life for her son in Ralin? They’d only made one night’s progress. Surely the window hadn’t closed.

But when she tried to voice the question, she thought of Lori. The warrior who had so calmly absorbed their guilt and fear and reflected it back as hope.

She did not ask, and when Eli pointed them North, she fell into step behind him.