Page 1 of The Flame

The truth will set you free.

That is what I believed. Now I’m no longer so sure. Roman once said to me:Knowledge isn’t good or bad, it’s just knowledge. What you do with it, however, that has the potential to lead to sin.

The truth is no different. We can use it to set our citizens free, or we can repurpose it any way we like.

The Sisters of Capra have risen.

They’ve taken my voice and made it their own. They’ve taken my loyalty and turned it into betrayal.

But they underestimate me.

I am the flame, and I will bring the fire.

1

Roman was in bad shape, far worse than he’d admit to.

Once I’d dosed him with a double whammy of anti-inflammatory pills and pain meds, he fell into a restless sleep. If I’d found any sedatives when I raided the first aid kit, I would have thrown those into the mix as well. He was bruised and battered, but his absolute exhaustion worried me the most. Roman was young and fit, a powerhouse of strength. Despite the tumultuous events of the last couple of hours, that exhaustion did not feel natural.

I sat vigil throughout the night, cooling his forehead with a damp cloth even though he didn’t have a fever. Holding a compress to his bruised jaw and eye. Checking his pulse to make sure it held steady.

At some point, my own exhaustion obviously caught up to me.

When I awoke, I was still seated on the chair beside him, my body tilted forward with my cheek plastered to the edge of the bed.

My head felt like a foggy graveyard. My limbs were entombed in iron. I groaned, curling a hand around my neck to massage the cramp as I straightened in the chair—and last night came rushing back to me.

The Foundation Ball, my face lit up on the screens, the guards chasing Roman and me through the passageways of the building…

My gaze darted to Roman, and relief flooded me when I saw the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling.

He’d thrown off the covers.

His hair was plastered to his forehead and I felt there for a fever, but his skin was cool to the touch. Either a fever had come on and broken, or his hair was damp from the cloth I’d used to cool his forehead just in case. That had probably been unnecessary, but the gel compress appeared to have been useful. His eye was bruised, the skin already turning dark purple, and there was still some swelling at his jaw, but his face had looked a whole lot worse last night.

A sudden pounding on the front door startled me. From the furious sound, this wasn’t the first time they’d knocked and they’d lost patience. Was this what had woken me?

My gaze darted to Roman, but thankfully he hadn’t stirred.

I jumped up and hurried from the bedroom, closing the inter-leading door to the living room with a soft click behind me. A glance at my watch showed it was a few minutes past midday. I thought I’d only napped for an hour or so at Roman’s bedside, but I’d slept the morning away. No wonder I had a cramp in my neck.

I made it to the front door before the pounding started up again. Was that really necessary? When I opened the door, my irritation evaporated.

“Jessie.” I stood back so she could come in. “How did you get past the guard at the barrier?”

Jessie ignored the stupid question, and itwasstupid. The Sisters of Capra had toppled the old regime last night. The councilmen and their heirs—Daniel—were being held at the Guard Station across from Berkley House. Of course there wasno guard posted at the Parklands barrier—they were all behind bars. Anyone who’d resisted was locked up. Every Guard Station in Capra was probably bulging at the seams.

Jessie didn’t come inside. She stood there on the threshold, hands tucked into the pockets of her bulky winter coat. “Is it true?”

I wasn’t sure what part, exactly, she was asking about. It didn’t matter.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s all true.”

“But… How?” Her disturbed gaze searched mine, as if my eyes held all the answers. “Why?”

“Jessie, let’s talk inside.” I tugged her forward by the hand, and she didn’t resist as I closed the door on the blustery chill outside. It was the beginning of December and winter had arrived with vengeance.

“We just need to keep the noise down,” I said as we moved along the narrow, enclosed porch to the kitchen. “Roman is sleeping.”

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