I have to clench a fist to keep calm. My own operation. Blood pounds in my ears, pressed on by a rising heartbeat. My jaw clenches, grinding my teeth together so I don’t smile. I look back at the orders again to make sure they’re real. Operation Red Web.
After a moment, I realize something is missing.
“There’s no mention of you, sir.”
He raises the eyebrow of his bad eye. “Do you expect there to be? I’m not your nanny, Captain.” He bristles. The mask of control threatens to slip and he busies himself with an already pristine desk, flicking away a piece of dust that doesn’t exist.
I shrug off the insult. “Very well. I assume you have orders of your own.”
“I do,” he says quickly.
“Then a bit of a celebration is in order.”
The Colonel all but sneers. “You want to celebrate being a poster girl? Or would you rather cheer a suicide mission?”
Now I really do smile. “I don’t see it that way.” Slowly, I fold the orders again and slip them into my jacket pocket. “Tonight, I drink to my first independent assignment. And tomorrow, I head to Norta.”
“Your eyes only, Captain.”
When I reach the door, I glare at him over my shoulder. “As if you didn’t already know.”
His silence is admission enough.
“Besides, I’ll still be reporting to you, so you can pass on my relays to Command,” I add. I can’t help but goad him a little. He deserves it for the nanny comment. “What’s that called? Oh yes. The middleman.”
“Careful, Captain.”
I nod my head, smiling as I wrench open the office door. “Always, sir.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t let another uncomfortable silence linger. “Your broadcast crew is waiting in your barracks. Best get on.”
“I do hope I’m camera ready.” I giggle falsely, pretending to preen.
He waves a hand, officially dismissing me from his sight. I go willingly, weaving through the halls of Irabelle with enthusiasm.
To my surprise, the excitement pulsing through me doesn’t last long. I started out sprinting to the barracks, intending to hunt down my team of oathed soldiers and tell them the good news. But my pace soon slows, my delight giving way to reluctance. And fear.
There’s a reason they call us Ram and Lamb, other than the obvious. I’ve never been sent anywhere without the Colonel to follow. He’s always been there, a safety net I’ve never wanted, but one I’ve become far too familiar with. He’s saved my life too many times to count. And he’s certainly why I’m here instead of a frozen village, losing fingers to every winter and friends to every round of conscription. We don’t see eye to eye on much, but we always get the job done, and we always stay alive. We succeed where others can’t. We survive. Now I must do the same alone. Now I have to protect others, taking their lives—and deaths—onto my shoulders.
My pace halts, allowing me a few more moments to collect myself. The cool shadows are calming, inviting. I press up against the slick concrete wall, letting the cold seep through me. I must be like the Colonel when I assemble my team. I am their captain, their commander, and I must be perfect. No room for mistakes and no hesitation. Forward at all costs. Rise, Red as the dawn.
The Colonel may not be a good person, but he’s a brilliant leader. That’s always been enough. And now I’ll do my best to be the same.
I think better of my plan. Let the rest idle a few minutes longer.
I enter my barracks on my own, chin raised. I don’t know why I was chosen for this, why Command wants me to be the one to shout our words. But I’m sure there’s a good reason. A young woman holding a flag is quite a striking figure—but also a puzzling one. Silvers might send men and women to die on the lines in equal measure, but a rebel group led by a woman is easier to underestimate. Just what Command wants. Or they simply prefer I’m the one eventually identified and executed, rather than one of their own.
The first crewman, a slumtown escapee judging by his tattooed neck, waves me to the camera already waiting. Another hands me a red scarf and a typed message, one that will not be heard for many months.
But when it is, when it rings out across Norta and the Lakelands, it will land with the strength of a hammer’s fall.
I face the cameras alone, my face hidden, my words steel.
“Rise, Red as the dawn.”
THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN DECODED
CONFIDENTIAL, COMMAND CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Operative: Colonel REDACTED.
Designation: RAM.
Origin: Trial, LL.
Destination: COMMAND at REDACTED.
-EYES ON team led by HOLIDAY met opposition in ADELA.
-ADELA safe house destroyed.
-EYES ON overview: Killed in action: R. INDY, N. CAWRALL, T. TREALLER, E. KEYNE (4).
Silver casualty count: Zero (0).
Civilian casualty count: Unknown.
RISE, RED AS THE DAWN.
THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN DECODED
CONFIDENTIAL, SENIOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Day 4 of Operation RED WEB, Stage 1.
Operative: Captain REDACTED.
Designation: LAMB.
Origin: Harbor Bay, NRT.
Destination: RAM at REDACTED.
-Transit smooth through ADERONACK, GREATWOODS, MARSH COAST regions.
-BEACON region transit difficult, heavy NRT military presence.
-Made contact with MARINERS. Entered HARBOR BAY with their aid.
-Meeting with EGAN, head of the MARINERS. Will assess.
RISE, RED AS THE DAWN.
As any good cook can tell you, there are always rats in the kitchen.
The Kingdom of Norta is no different. Its cracks and crevices crawl with what the Silver elite would call vermin. Red thieves, smugglers, army deserters, teenagers fleeing conscription, or feeble elders trying to escape punishment for the idle “crime” of growing old. In the backcountry, farther north toward the Lakeland border, they keep to the woods and small villages, finding safety in the places no self-respecting Silver would condescend to live. But in cities like Harbor Bay, where Silvers keep fine houses and ugly laws, Reds turn to more desperate measures. And so must I.
Boss Egan is not easy to get to. His so-called associates take me and my lieutenant, Tristan, through a maze of tunnels under the walls of the coastal city. We double back more than once, to confuse me as well as anyone who might try to follow. I all but expect Melody, the soft-voiced and sharped-eyed thief leading the way, to blindfold us. Instead, she lets the darkness do its work, and by the time we emerge, I can barely find true north, let alone my way out of the city.
Tristan is not a trusting man, having learned well at the hands of the Scarlet Guard. He hovers at my side, one hand inside his jacket, always gripping the long knife he keeps close. Melody and her men laugh off the obvious threat, pulling back coats and shawls to reveal edged weapons of their own.
“Not to worry, Stretch,” she says, raising an eyebrow at Tristan’s scraping height. “You’re well protected.”
He flushes, angry, but doesn’t loosen his grasp. And I’m still keenly aware of the knife in my boot, not to mention the pistol tucked into the back of my pants.
Melody keeps walking, leading us through a market trembling with noise and the sharp smell of fish. Her thick body cuts through the crowd, which parts to let her pass. The tattoo on her upper arm, a blue anchor surrounded by red, coiling rope, is warning enough. She’s a Mariner, a member of the smuggling operation Command assigned me to feel out. And judging by the way she orders her own detachment, three of them following her lead, she’s highly ranked and well respected.