Chapter One CHAPTER ONE
It was Fiora’s turn to keep watch, and she was struggling to stay awake. But it wasn’t like anyone else had volunteered to take the four a.m. shift. Fiora was all alone, stationed on a hill that gave her good visibility of the Deserts’ arid landscape, while the Thistles, Baz, and Leo were sleeping some distance away in their designated campsite, hidden from view.

Not that anyone was viewing them in the middle of nowhere. The whole region was barren.

Fiora found the Deserts surprisingly chilly at night. Her nose ran from the cold. She kept wiping it on her sleeve, trying not to think about the warm fire that had once burned in the Thistle cottage, or the hot chocolate that used to be in the mess hall, or the woolen hats that Imogen had knitted her in the winter.

Stop it, Fiora scolded herself. Don’t think about it.

Whenever she thought of Inc Academy, her throat got tight and scratchy. Was it homesickness, grief, guilt, or fury? She could never tell. The feelings snarled together like tangled spools of thread.

It had only been a few weeks since they’d fled the academy, but it felt like a lifetime. She missed everything about it—the smells, the sounds, the sights, even the food in the mess hall after the Actons had lost their funding. She’d take their chicken gizzards any day over the dry, stale crackers that Quinn was rationing.

No, stop. She had to focus on the task at hand. The others were trusting her to be their eyes while they slept.

Fiora adjusted her moonglasses, a tool that Captain Quinn had stolen from the tech lab the day they’d all fled the academy. The moonglasses were one of the more useful gadgets Quinn had pocketed. They were, essentially, sunglasses made for nighttime that allowed Fiora to see clearly in the dark. But they weren’t perfect; every fifteen minutes or so, the glasses went black and needed a minute to reboot. Since Quinn had found them in the tech lab—and not the tools locker—the glasses were technically still in development, unfit for the field.

Fugitives can’t be choosers, Fiora reminded herself as the moonglasses flickered off again. She pulled them from her face and squinted in the dark. Then she shivered violently and cursed the Deserts with every chatter of her teeth.

If she’d had her way, Fiora would have picked the Forests, where there was more shelter, or the Temperates, where the weather was better. But Quinn had pulled rank and insisted on the Deserts.

“Trust me,” Quinn had said once Inc Academy was a speck behind them, “I spent almost a decade in the field, and there’s no place emptier. No pockets of small sorcerer towns, and it’s far enough away from the Big Four territories.”

“The Astors and the Paynes are both in the Deserts,” Onyx had reminded her.

“No, the Paynes are too far south for where I’m thinking. I suppose the closest Big Four territory is the Astor Quadrant, but the Astors don’t venture outside their gaudy city, so we won’t have to worry about them, violent as they are. I promise—the Deserts are the best spot to hide. At least until our, um, untimely exit blows over.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will ever blow over,” Onyx had said mournfully. “The academy is dead, we stole Inc inventions, and we joined forces with Baz and Leo—known sorcerers. We’re outlaws now.”

“Don’t worry,” Cameron had replied. “The other Incs will come around once we break the Dark Deals—they have to.” Classic Cameron optimism, and no one had the heart to shut him down.

The moonglasses booted back up, and Fiora quickly put them on again. No signs of movement. Nothing at all except hills of red rock, cacti, and a surprising number of desert shrubs. But none of those triggered a flashing “movement detected” alert within her field of vision.

Not even animals sounded the alarm with the glasses, and Fiora had learned that the hard way, after a particularly meaty spider had crawled up her arm during one of her first nighttime shifts. When the tarantula reached her neck, she’d screamed loud enough to summon every sorcerer in a ten-mile radius. (But thankfully, there were none.)

After that Fiora began fretting about Ringer. Would the moonglasses detect the sorcerer if they shape-shifted into an animal? Her nightmares were full of Ringer in different forms: a Ringer snake, a Ringer hawk, a Ringer cougar, a Ringer scorpion…

But Quinn didn’t seem concerned when Fiora eventually brought it up. “Ringer wouldn’t attack all seven of us,” Quinn had said with a shrug. “And there’s no way the whole Radiance could approach without us seeing.”

“But what if—”

“And,” Quinn added, “if they tried to execute a harebrained scheme like that anyway, then we would jump into the buggies and fly away.”

“But, Quinn—”

“Don’t worry, Fiora. I’ll protect you. Worst-case scenario? I’d fight the Radiance while you six escape. It’s what captains do.”

But it didn’t make Fiora feel any better that Quinn was imagining scenarios where she was left behind to die.

Fiora rubbed her hands together. “I can’t lose anyone else,” she whispered into the night air, feeling the familiar pit in her stomach when she thought about Captain Silvius. There one minute, gone the next. And as much as she wanted to believe that he was watching over them and that he was at peace now—like Cameron, Onyx, Baz, and Leo said—the triad gods were not part of Fiora’s faith. Her religion was not as gentle about death. She’d grown up understanding that nothing came next. And the cold, hard truth of the matter was that Fiora had seen the anguished expression on Silvius’s face as life left his body, and she knew that there was nothing peaceful about dying.

Whenever Fiora thought about her own parents’ deaths, she felt fury toward the nameless sorcerer who had killed them. The only emotion greater than her anger was her sorrow, knowing that she’d never again get to talk to her mom or dad—or hear them or hug them or have them—for the rest of her life.

Her eyes wandered up to the stars. When her parents had perished, Fiora had recently been dropped off at Uncle Randal’s tailor shop. She’d been six years old. It wasn’t her fault.

But with Captain Silvius?

As Fiora took in the infinite sky, her breath hitched. How was she supposed to carry the burden of knowing that she was partially responsible for his fate? She could have been stronger, faster, better on the field. If only she hadn’t needed his help… If only she’d been able to cover him when he’d explicitly asked for her protection.

Fiora replayed the moments repeatedly in her mind. She hated every decision she’d made at the Rainfall Ball three weeks ago—and every action long before the ball too. If she had been smarter, then she would have uncovered Heath as the spy earlier, and the whole night would have been prevented.

But there was no redo. There was only regret.

Captain Silvius haunted her every quiet thought. The worst thing was knowing that Quinn was thinking about him too. But they hadn’t talked about it. They couldn’t talk about it. Whenever anyone broached the subject of the Rainfall Ball, Quinn completely powered down, like an electro-pulse shield that had run out of batteries.

Something rustled behind Fiora. She cocked her lightning blaster.

“Relax, Fee,” said a sharp voice. “It’s just me.”

Through the moonglasses Mel’s outline glowed with a yellow light, and the “movement detected” alert flashed across her field of vision. Fiora’s heart galloped, but not from the warning. She pulled the glasses off her face. “Why are you awake?”

“Well, the foldabeds aren’t exactly comfortable,” Mel said.

Foldabeds, another innovation Quinn had stolen, were tiny pillows that unfurled and inflated into mattresses. And with the press of a button, they folded themselves back up. The perfect invention for Incs in the field. Or… Incs on the run.

Mel approached slowly, holding her stomach where Ringer had slashed her from hip to hip.

“The pain again?” Fiora asked. She had been examining Mel’s wound every day. The wiry, dissolvable sutures were still there, across an inflamed scar. But there were no signs of infection and no lapses in the stitching; Fiora had done well with the needle. As a present on Mel’s birthday, Fiora had delivered the good news about how nicely she was healing. And in response Mel tried to sock her.

Note to self, Fiora had thought, don’t tell someone in perpetual pain that they’re recovering well.

Every night Mel had been sleeping propped up. But even still, Mel was waking up with the sensation that her stomach was on fire or about to be ripped apart on the very line where she’d been mended. She was only recently starting to straighten her posture after weeks of hunching over and clutching her middle. She could barely sit down or stand up without Fiora’s guiding hands.

Even now Fiora rushed to Mel’s side and helped her down on the rock.

Mel winced, with a soft groan escaping her lips. “Gods, I can’t wait to wring Ringer’s neck.”

“Maybe you can do some exercises,” Fiora suggested, not for the first time, “to help rebuild your core muscles.”

“Maybe you can mind your own business! I’m just fine.”

Fiora snorted as she observed Mel’s grimace. “Yeah, that’s the face of someone just fine.”

Mel’s lips curled into a crooked grin. “Shut up, you.” Mel leaned closer. A shiver traveled up Fiora’s spine. They were nose to nose, like the time Mel had pushed her against a tree on their very first mission, just moments before Fiora had saved Mel from the bear—and earned a few gnarly scars on her arm.

Fiora looked down at the marks and smiled. Then she gathered Mel’s hands in hers. Mel’s fingers were cold, and Fiora rubbed warmth back into them.

“Don’t worry,” Fiora said. “I’ll beat Ringer for you.”

Mel snorted. “No way! I’ll fight you for dibs!”

“I know. But I can take you now.”

“Gods, I hate when you’re right,” Mel grumbled. “What am I going to do?”

Fiora gently rested her head on Mel’s shoulder. “Stomach exercises, you stubborn little imp.”

Mel laughed softly and snuggled closer to Fiora. Mel’s hair smelled floral and sweet, which was miraculous, considering their shower access was pretty limited.

In the cold, quiet night, Fiora was certain her heartbeat was audible. She breathed in deep. Calm down, she told herself, but all she could think about was how perfectly she fit into the crook of Mel’s neck.

This was what life should be like—what it would be like—once they freed all the sorcerers from their Dark Deals. The two of them, sitting peacefully together, either listening to one another breathe or bantering until they were breathless. Fiora wanted to freeze this moment, live in it forever.

“Mel,” Fiora finally whispered. “You know I like you.”

“I know. I’m amazing, right?”

Fiora broke away. “Are you serious, Mel? Again?”

“Again what?”

“We have to talk about our dance. We have to talk about us—”

“Wow, it got late. It’s nearly my shift. You must be exhausted, Fee. You should get to bed.”

Fiora groaned. She could stub her toe with every step she took and still be less exasperated than she was with Mel. How had the Rainfall Ball not been a turning point for them? But somehow, it wasn’t. There was no openness or honesty with each other. And not for Fiora’s lack of trying! But then again, getting Mel to open up about her feelings was as tricky as sewing chiffon.

One wrong move—one single mistake—would cause a rip.

“Fine,” Fiora conceded, handing Mel the moonglasses. “Take over then. But I won’t let this drop, you know. I’m just as stubborn as you are. I will get you to talk.” Fiora glared at Mel, who evaded her gaze and bit her lip, like she was on the verge of saying something. But she didn’t utter a single word. “You’re hopeless!” Fiora dropped like an autumn leaf onto Mel’s legs, extra careful to avoid Mel’s abdomen. “Mel, is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

“Don’t move,” Mel said, and she started to gently play with Fiora’s curls.

“You sure this doesn’t—”

“I’m fine,” Mel said, a little snappishly. “I’m not fragile, Fee!”

“Did I say you were? You’re the toughest Inc I know. Number one sprout.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Mel boasted as she pulled on Fiora’s curliest curl.

As Mel massaged her scalp, Fiora’s head felt light and fuzzy. She smiled. And then closed her eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” shouted Baz from across their campsite’s clearing. Ugh. He was far too chipper in the morning.

The sun was up, and the heat of the Deserts beat down on Fiora. For his morning chore, Baz was rationing out breakfast. Leo was sitting on top of a massive rock, dangling his feet off the edge as he sketched; he’d been drawing more and more since they’d left the academy. And Onyx, huddled in the shade of Leo’s rock, was flipping pages of his book faster than it seemed humanly possible to read.

“Get up!” Baz called.

“Not yet,” Fiora replied, her head resting on a rolled-up Thistle cape. “Ignoring you.”

“If you insist,” Baz retorted. “It’s your sunburn!” Then he started to walk away, whistling a loud, happy tune.

Fiora marveled at the difference she saw in him. Since they’d left Inc Academy, Baz was chipper, upbeat, and not at all tormented. He was almost a different person when there weren’t many minds to read. And he hadn’t had a migraine in two weeks, a new record for him.

“Where’s Mel?” Fiora asked quickly, and Baz laughed.

“Absolutely no preamble,” he said. “I’m doing great this morning, thanks for asking.”

“I can tell you’re doing great,” Fiora said, barely containing an eye roll. “You’ve been great ever since the academy fell. Mighty suspicious for a sorcerer.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but his face fell, and right away she realized she’d said something careless. She kept forgetting that his outward front and his inward feelings didn’t have to match; just because Baz wasn’t hurting on the outside didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting on the inside. Of course he wasn’t fine. It had been his captain, after all.

“Sorry,” Fiora said.

“I know you are,” he said, tapping his head. “Mel’s picking a fight. What else is new?”

“With?”

“Quinn this time,” Baz said. He strained, his face scrunching. “She wants to… She’s ready to jump back into battle. Wants to offer herself up as bait. Oh, there’s a smart plan. Quinn, rightfully, refuses. And we’re having a team meeting in about fifteen minutes.” He tapped his head again. “Not that Quinn’s told anyone yet.”

Fiora’s jaw hung open. “Your powers are terrifying.”

“Aren’t they just?” Baz said with a coy smile, as if she had paid him a compliment.

“And Cameron?”

“Guard duty.”

Fiora got up and brushed off the dirt. She wanted to ask Onyx what he was reading, but his eyes were wide, and his glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose, and he slumped over the pages with posture like a parenthesis. She knew she’d be interrupting his focus if she bothered him.

So, instead, she looked to Leo. “What are you drawing?”

But she received no answer.

“Leo can’t hear you,” Baz said. “His hearing aids are out of battery right now. This living on the run thing is getting old fast, and I say that as someone who has lived on the run for most of his life.” He sighed wistfully. “I miss running water most of all. Speaking of, you look parched. Here.”

Fiora took a water canteen from his outstretched hand. When they’d run out of Academy water, Quinn had flown the buggy to a river on the border of the Mountains. She’d filled up many canteens and dropped in iodine tablets (from the emergency aid kits she’d stolen) to purify the water. But they still had to ration.

Thirsty, hungry, hot, and cranky was their new mode.

When Fiora finished helping Baz with his chores, she surveyed the desert. She was grateful they had a safe spot to hide from the Radiance and the angry classmates and captains they’d left behind. But Fiora would be all too happy to ditch the desert. Watching grass grow seemed infinitely more exciting than her days here.

At last she shared Mel’s impatience. That made her smile.

Which made Baz smile.

Which made Fiora frown. “Get out of my head!”

“Can’t help it. You’re too interesting.”

She folded her arms sourly.

“Yes, I know you hate me,” Baz added with a laugh. “Think it louder, why don’t you.”

At that moment Quinn and Mel came bounding over the hill toward them. Quinn was covered in grease and oil from the buggy. For days now she’d been doing some routine maintenance. The buggies were their most important stolen asset, so Quinn had to keep them in tip-top shape.

“I think I’m finally done being a mechanic!” Quinn said excitedly, sitting down by their designated “mess hall” area. She guzzled down water and then cried out, “Thistles plus two—gather round! Team meeting!”

Baz exchanged a look with Fiora. His big brown eyes seemed to say, Told you so.

Onyx came toward the group, not once looking up from the book in his hands. He sat in the circle while continuing to read.

“We’re missing Cameron and Leo,” Quinn said.

“Leo couldn’t charge his hearing aids while you worked on the buggies,” Baz explained. “I’ll get him. Fiora, grab Cameron.” Baz pointed across the hill, toward the buggies.

She found Cameron sitting in the shade of one of the buggies and staring out into the distance. He didn’t seem to notice her, which was problematic for someone on guard duty.

“Cameron? You okay?”

He startled. “What? Oh, Fiora, hi.” Cameron looked a little sadder than usual. He had been withdrawn lately.

“Quinn called a team meeting.”

“But I’m on watch,” Cameron said.

Fiora clicked her feet together. “At ease, soldier,” she said, in her best imitation of Commander Callalily. “You’re being temporarily relieved of duty.”

“I don’t undersand.” He paused to let his joke land. “Get it?”

She groaned and laughed. “There’s the Cameron I know! Haven’t heard a terrible pun in ages.” She crouched beside him. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s Rockland City,” he said quietly. “Heath knew where it was. Now the Radiance knows too. All the refugees are there—my mom, my three sisters, and everyone the Incs have ever rescued from sorcerers. The city is compromised. What if it fell while we were just camping out here?”

“It didn’t,” Fiora said firmly.

“But you don’t know that—”

“The commander would never let the Radiance harm the city.”

Cameron sighed heavily. “She said that about Inc Academy, too, and look what happened there.”

Fiora squeezed his hand. “I’m sure Rockland City is the first place she went after the dust settled.”

“What if it was too late?”

“It wasn’t,” Fiora insisted, her voice harder now. She couldn’t go down this road with Cameron. Because of Uncle Randal.

When Fiora was six, her parents had dropped her off at Uncle Randal’s house. They were supposed to return two weeks later; instead they had been murdered by sorcerers.

And after that Fiora had grown up with Uncle Randal, working as an apprentice in his tailor shop for seven years—until she had a happenstance meeting with Captain Quinn that changed her life forever. Or perhaps it was the shimmery cloak she and her uncle had made for Ringer (which Ringer had stolen) that had changed Fiora’s life forever. Or maybe both things together. Because without the shimmery cloak, Fiora wouldn’t have met the Radiance. But without the lightning blaster she’d gotten from Quinn, Fiora never would have been able to fight back against sorcerer authority for the very first time.

All Fiora knew was that ever since Quinn and June had whisked her away to Inc Academy, she’d felt comforted by the knowledge that her only family left was safely tucked away in Rockland City, the refugee haven protected by Incorruptibles. She could focus on her missions and not him. But if what Cameron feared had come true… If Rockland City fell to the sorcerers… If all the humans living there were in peril… If there was a possibility Uncle Randal was…

No, he had to be safe. She couldn’t let her mind go there. “Your family is fine,” she said, softer now. “There’s a huge community there, right?”

Cameron nodded.

“Then I’m sure they banded together.”

“Hey!” Mel cried from the crest of the hill. “What part of team meeting don’t you two understand? Captain Quinn is waiting!”

Fiora and Cameron stood up.

“Wait, Fiora.” Cameron wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she accepted his embrace enthusiastically. He always gave the best hugs.

“Hurry up!” Mel shouted. “This isn’t share-your-feelings hour!”

“It’s always share-your-feelings hour when talking to you,” Cameron whispered to Fiora, and in response, Fiora teasingly stuck out her leg to trip him. Cameron jumped right over her foot. “Ha! My reflexes are better than that! I’ve improved, you know!”

“I know,” Fiora said.

“I’m so good, I could probably beat Mel now,” Cameron teased as he passed Mel.

Mel scowled. “I’m injured, you jerk!”

When they reached the others, Fiora plopped down between Onyx and Mel. Onyx looked up for the briefest of seconds. But almost immediately he went back to reading, as if his book had a magnetic allure that was too strong to overcome.

Fiora’s cranky mood swelled as she sat cross-legged in the dirt. Sitting still meant Fiora had no distractions from the sensation that every inch of her skin was burning beneath the blistering sun. Even her scalp.

Fiora took a sip of her rationed water and a bite of her dry cracker. What she wouldn’t give for fresh bread with salted butter and a glass of ice-cold lemonade! Gods, she missed Inc Academy.

“I’ve assembled us to talk about our next move, now that the buggies have been fixed and Mel’s improving. So,” Quinn said, the corners of her mouth twitching, “who’s got a game plan to break a Dark Deal?”

Baz snorted. He looked to Leo, translated what Quinn had said, and then added his own reply. “If it were that easy, Leo and I would have done it ages ago.”

Mel adjusted her ponytail and said, “What if we just pushed Baz and Leo until they exhausted their powers? Like draining a battery. Now that we know magic isn’t limitless, what if we made them use their powers so much that they just… reached the breaking point of it?”

Leo scrunched his brow. “So, your plan is to torture us to death? Good one, Mel.” He used the name sign he’d invented for her. Leo had given each Thistle a unique name sign during one of the many lessons he and Baz had taught. Fiora had been practicing sign language often, and although she wasn't fluent, she was noticeably improving.

“What if,” Cameron said, “we found a sorcerer who can perform a Dark Deal backward? Like unwinding a clock?”

“Who would willingly help us do that?” Baz muttered.

“Well, what if we could trick a sorcerer into giving us answers?” Fiora said. “An expert, who could accidentally slip us intel. I could pretend to want a Dark Deal, and we can find out more about—”

“No!” Mel said, disgusted. “I won’t let you pretend to want a Dark Deal!”

“It’s not real, Mel.” Fiora sighed.

Quinn licked her cracked lips. “It’s not a terrible idea. Infiltrating is dangerous but effective. If we had a sorcerer to guide us… Hmm. We’d need someone who deeply understands sorcery’s weaknesses. Leo, Baz, know anyone like that?”

They shrugged.

But Onyx looked up sharply from his book. “I do. But you’re not going to like it, Captain.”

“Who?” Quinn said.

He exhaled, closed his book, and tented his fingers. He hesitated before responding, “It’s not the who that’s the danger, Captain. It’s the where.”

Curious, Quinn quirked an eyebrow at him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Where?”

“The Astor Quadrant,” Onyx said gravely. “Who’s ready for a Red mission?”