“You’re different, Nix.” My voice sounds too high, too young. How do I explain? How do I tell him what I wish someone told me? What I don’t even truly understand? “You know there’s something about you, something you can’t explain. You might even think there’s something . . . wrong with you.”

My last words find home like arrows. The gruff little man flinches as they land; bits of his anger melt away. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Yes,” he says.

I don’t move from my place deep in the grove, but instead gesture for Kilorn to step aside. He does as asked, letting Nix walk past him. As he approaches, joining me in the shadows, my heartbeat quickens. It pounds in my ears, a nervous, eager drum. This man is a newblood, like me, like Shade. Another who understands.

Nix Marsten looks nothing like my father, but they have the same eyes. Not in color, not in shape, but still, they are the same. They share the hollow look that speaks of emptiness, a loss time cannot heal. To my horror, Nix’s hurt runs deeper even than Dad’s, a man who can barely breathe, let alone walk. I see it in the droop of his shoulders, in the neglect of his gray hair and clothing. Were I still a thief, a rat, I wouldn’t bother to steal from this man. He has nothing left to give.

He returns my stare, eyes flickering over my face and body. They widen when he realizes who I am. “The Lighting Girl.” But when he recognizes Cal at my shoulder, his shock quickly gives way to rage.

For an almost fifty-year-old man, Nix is surprisingly fast. In the shadows, I barely see him drop a shoulder and charge, catching Cal around the middle. Though he’s half the prince’s size, he takes him down like a bull, smashing them both into a sturdy tree trunk. It cracks loudly beneath the blow, shaking from roots to branches. After half a heartbeat, I realize that I should probably step in. Cal is Cal, but we have no idea who Nix is, or what he can do.

Nix gets in one bruising punch, hitting Cal’s jaw so hard I fear it might be broken, before I manage to get my arms around his neck. “Don’t make me, Nix,” I rumble in his ear. “Don’t make me.”

“Do your worst,” Nix spits back, trying to elbow me off. But I hold firm, squeezing his neck. The flesh feels rock hard beneath my touch. Very well.

I push enough power through me to stun Nix into submission. The jolt should set his hair on end. My purple sparks hit his skin, and I expect him to drop back, maybe shake a little, and come to his senses. But he doesn’t seem to feel my lightning at all. It only annoys him, like a fly would a horse. I shock him again, stronger this time, and again, nothing. In my surprise, he manages to throw me off and I land hard, my back against a tree.

Cal does better, dodging and catching as many punches as he can. But he hisses in pain at the contact, even the blows that glance off his arm. Finally the flame-maker bracelet at his wrist sparks, forming a fireball in his hand. It breaks against Nix’s shoulder like water on rock, burning the clothes but leaving the flesh unharmed.

Stoneskin echoes in my head, but this man is no such thing. His skin is still ruddy and smooth, not gray or stony. It is simply impenetrable.

“Stop this!” I growl, trying to keep my voice low. But the scuffle, or should I say butchery, continues on. Silver blood pours from Cal’s mouth, staining Nix’s knuckles black in the shadows.

Kilorn and Farley rush past me, their hurried footsteps pounding in time. I don’t know how much use they’ll be against this human wrecking ball, and I hold out a hand to stop them. But Shade reaches Nix before they do, jumping into position behind him. He grabs Nix by the neck, like I did, and then they’re both gone. They appear ten feet away a split second later, and Nix falls to the ground, his face vaguely green. He tries to get up, but Shade braces his crutch against his neck, pinning him.

“Move and I’ll do it again,” he says, his eyes alive and dangerous.

Nix raises one silver-stained hand in surrender. The other clutches his stomach, still flipping from the surprise and sensation of being squeezed through thin air. I know it all too well.

“Enough,” he pants. A sheen of sweat glints across his forehead, betraying the exhaustion setting in. Impenetrable, but not unstoppable.

Kilorn plops back down on his root, snatching up the remnants of his net. He smiles to himself, almost laughing at the sight of Cal beaten and bleeding. “I like this one,” he says. “I like him very much.”

I fight to my feet, ignoring the old aches setting off across my bones. “The prince is with us, Nix. He’s here to help, same as me.”

That does nothing to assuage him. Nix sits back on his heels, baring yellow teeth. His breath sounds ragged and visceral. “Help?” he scoffs. “That Silver bastard helped my daughters into an early grave.”

Cal does his best to look polite, despite the blood dripping down his chin. “Sir—”

“Dara Marsten. Jenny Marsten,” Nix hisses in reply. His glare goes right through me, a knife in the darkness. “The Hammer Legion. Battle of the Falls. They were nineteen years old.”

Died in the war. A tragedy, if not a crime, but how is it Cal’s fault?

Judging by the look of pure shame crossing his face, Cal agrees with Nix. When he speaks, his voice is thick, choked with emotion. “We won,” he murmurs, unable to look Nix in the eye. “We won.”

Nix clenches a single fist, but resists the urge to charge. “You won. They drowned in the river, and their bodies went over Maiden Falls. The grave diggers couldn’t even find their shoes. What was it the letter said?” he presses on, and Cal winces. “Ah yes, that my girls ‘died for victory.’ To ‘defend the kingdom.’ And there were some very nice signatures at the bottom. From the dead king, the general of the Hammer, and the tactical genius who decided an entire legion should march across the river.”

Every eye turns to Cal, and he burns under our gaze. His face goes white, flushed with blood and disgrace. I remember his room back in the Hall of the Sun, the books and manuals filled to the brim with notes and tactics. They made me sick then and they make me sick now, with Cal and myself. Because I’ve forgotten who he truly is. Not just a prince, not just a soldier, but a murderer. In another life it could’ve been me he marched to death, or my brothers, or Kilorn.

“I’m sorry,” Cal breathes. He forces himself to look up, to meet the eyes of an angry, grieving father. I suppose he was trained to do it. “I know my words mean nothing. Your daughters—all the soldiers—deserved to live. And so do you, sir.”

Nix’s knees crack when he stands, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Is that a threat, boy?”

“A warning,” Cal replies, shaking his head. “You’re like Mare, like Shade.” He gestures to us in turn. “Different. What we call a newblood. Red and Silver.”

“Don’t you ever call me Silver,” Nix says through gritted teeth.

It doesn’t stop Cal from continuing, rising to his feet. “My brother will be hunting people like you. He plans to kill you all, and pretend you never existed. He plans to erase you from history.”

Something sticks in Nix’s throat and confusion clouds his eyes. He glances to me, looking for support. “There are . . . others?”

“Many others, Nix.” This time when I touch his skin, I have no intention of shocking him. “Girls, boys, old and young. All over the country, waiting to be found.”