Page 58 of Supernova

“He said you fed him to the heroes,” the man continued.

It took Nova a moment to realize he was talking about the parade, when she had thrown Winston out of his own hot-air balloon, allowing him to be captured by the Renegades while she saved herself. Her stomach twinged with guilt, and not for the first time.

But when she dared to cast a sideways glance at the stranger, she saw that he was smiling. “Said you never give up. Said that’s what he liked about you.” His eyes slid sideways, meeting hers. They were so bright, it was a little bit like staring into twin suns.

Nova’s shoulders drooped. He had been atrocious, Winston. As the Puppeteer, he had done awful things, things that even the other Anarchists were wary of. And yet she couldn’t help the warmth that flooded through her to think of Winston in this cold, brutal place, saying kind things about her, even after what she’d done to him.

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of Nova’s head, forcing her face away from the neighbor. “Eyes forward!” the guard barked. “No talking!”

She crushed her teeth. There was a moment when she knew the guard’s hand was touchingjustenough of her scalp that she could have driven her power into him. She was almost angry enough to do it, too.

But she resisted. She said nothing, didn’t even glare at the guard’s back as he walked away. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her spoon, but she wouldn’t lash out. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of getting to punish her for it.

Nova put her fury into her jaw, gnashing her way through another chunk of bread.

She sensed the change more than heard it. The room was quiet enough as it was, and yet, suddenly, the silence was palpable. The chewing, the scrape of cutlery—it was almost as if even the breathing stopped.

Nova raised her head.

The warden was making his way to the back of the room, so that all of the seated inmates would be facing him. He wore a gray suit, identical to the one he’d worn every time she’d seen him.

“Listen up, everyone,” barked the warden. “I have an announcement to make and I don’t intend to explain this more than once.” Coming to a stop at the room’s center, he frowned at the inmates, then faced one of the guards. “We’re missing one.”

“He’s being brought in from solitary now,” the guard answered.

The warden exhaled, exasperated, but he didn’t have to wait long. Moments later, a door opened near the corner of the room, a door Nova had only ever seen closed.

And there was Ace.

He was flanked by two guards, being led slowly into the cafeteria.

Nova stiffened. He was almost unrecognizable. Ace had faded even more since she’d last seen him and no longer resembled himself at all. His skin sagged from his cheekbones. His eyes were deep in their sockets, the skin around them practically translucent. His feet dragged as if he could barely walk and it was clear that he was in pain with every stumbling step.

And yet—the other prisoners did recognize him. At least, many of them seemed to. She could tell not just by their awestruck silence, but by the way those nearest him gave an almost imperceptible nod as he was dragged past, showing their respect for the man who had once led so many of them into a revolution.

The guards, on the other hand, stood at attention with their hands on their weapons or their fingers outstretched, preparing to call on their powers if needed. They were on edge with Ace in the room, watching him like one would watch a tiger who may or may not have been strong enough to break its leash.

Their fear was unwarranted. Couldn’t they see that? Ace was sick. He was dying.

The guards led him around the bank of tables toward a solitary table set apart from the others. He was only a few tables away from her when Ace’s eyes suddenly flickered with recognition. His gaze met Nova’s and went wide. His foot skidded to a stop, startling the guards beside him.

He gaped at her, and Nova could see the realization crashingthrough him. She was captured. She was a prisoner, just like he was. Sorrow creased his brow, and Nova felt her own hopelessness well up inside her all over again.

She wanted to apologize—for failing him, again. She wanted to tell him how much she still loved him. That she hadn’t given up.

Ace started to cough. Not a polite cough spurred on by the frigid weather, but a rough, hacking cough that soon had him bent over and struggling to stand. Nova gasped and rose from her seat, but the little plastic fork was suddenly ripped from her hand. In one motion, it flipped over and the brittle tines pressed into her sleeve, holding it against the table. She scowled and grabbed the fork. The handle snapped in two, leaving the tines still driven through the fabric.

She huffed and raised her eyes to see that she wasn’t the only one who had wanted to help Ace. Three of the inmates closest to him had also leaped from their seats. One of them even managed to take hold of Ace’s arm to keep him from slumping forward and hitting his head, before the guards started shouting and shoving them back. Ace was pushed against the wall in the hubbub, and he slid down it, one hand digging into his chest as the coughs dwindled to pained wheezing.

More of the inmates were standing now, yelling back at the guards.Do something. Help him. He needs a doctor.

One of the guards slammed the palms of his hands together and a wave of pressure pushed outward, bowling over everyone in its path. A number of prisoners fell to the ground. One hit his head on a stool. Though Nova didn’t get the brunt of it, the unexpected attack still shoved her back down to her stool.

Only then did the pressure on the fork tines relax. She yanked her arm off the table and plucked them viciously from the fabric.

“What’s wrong with you people?” shouted the man beside her, the one who had known Winston. He had not stood up with theothers, but she could see the fury written plain across his face. He gestured toward Ace with his spoon. “He’s not a threat to you, anyone can see that. He needs help!”

“Yeah?” snapped another guard, even as he bent down to grab Ace’s cuffs. He hauled him back to his feet, making a point of not being gentle about it. “He’s killed a lot of people. Who came to help them?”

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