too much to ever earn my thanks.
But so have I. That’s fair, I suppose. And don’t I believe in fairness?
Footsteps turn my head, and I slip the gun to my side, careful to keep it hidden. A fellow
Guardsman would not mind the weapon, but a Silver officer certainly would. Not that I expect one to
find us down here. They never do.
Indy doesn’t bother with a greeting. She halts a few feet away, her tattoos evident against her tan
skin even in the meager light. Thorns up one side, from her wrist to the crown of her shaved head,
with roses winding down the other arm. Her code name is Holiday, but Garden would’ve been more
fitting. She’s a fellow captain, another one of us who answers to the Colonel. There’s ten in all under
his command, each with a larger detachment of oathed soldiers sworn to their captains.
“The Colonel wants you in his office. New orders,” she says. Then her voice lowers, even though
no one can hear us this deep into Irabelle. “He isn’t happy.”
I grin and push past her. She’s shorter than me, like most people, and has to work to keep up. “Is
he ever?”
“You know what I mean. This is different.”
Her dark eyes flash, betraying a rare fear. I saw it last in the infirmary, as she stood over the body
of another captain. Saraline, code named Mercy, who ended up losing a kidney during a routine arms
raid. She’s still recovering. The surgeon was shaky at best. Not your fault. Not your job, I remind
myself. But I did what I could. I’m no stranger to blood and I was the best medic we had at the
moment. Still, it was the first time I held a human organ in my hand. At least she’s alive.
“She’s walking,” Indy offers, reading the guilt on my face. “Slow, but she’s doing it.”
“That’s good,” I say, neglecting to add that she should’ve been walking weeks ago. Not your fault
echoes again.
When we make it back to the central hub, Indy breaks off, heading to the infirmary. She hasn’t left
Saraline’s side for anything but assignments and, apparently, the Colonel’s errands. They came to the
Guard at the same time, close as sisters. And then, quite obviously, not sisters anymore. No one
minds. There’s no rules against fraternizing within the organization, so long as the job gets done and
everyone comes back alive. So far, no one at Irabelle has been foolish or sentimental enough to let
something so petty as a feeling jeopardize our cause.
I leave Indy to her worries and head in the opposite direction, to where I know the Colonel waits.
His office would make a marvelous tomb. No windows, concrete walls, and a lamp that always
seems to burn out at precisely the wrong moment. There are far better places in Irabelle for him to
conduct business, but he likes the quiet and the closed space. He’s tall enough, and the low ceiling
makes him seem like a giant. Probably why he likes the room so much.
His head scrapes the ceiling when he stands to greet my entrance.
“New orders?” I ask, already knowing the answer. We’ve been here two days. I know better than
to expect any kind of vacation, even after the grand success of Operation Laker. The central passages
of three lakes, each one key to the inner Lakelands, now belong to us, and no one is the wiser. For
what higher purpose, I don’t know. That’s for Command to worry about, not me.
The Colonel slides a folded paper across the table to me. Sealed edges. I have to snap it open
with a finger. Strange. I’ve never received sealed orders before.
My eyes scan the page, widening with every passing word. Command orders. Straight from the
top, past the Colonel, directly to me.
“These are—”
He holds up a hand, stopping me short. “Command says your eyes only.” His voice is controlled,
but I hear the anger anyway. “It’s your operation.”
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