Glass Sword Read Online Free PDF

back just in time to supplant his wall.
    He grunts in agreement, too focused to speak. Like my lightning, his fires grow weak and thin. We can almost see through them now, to the soldiers on the other side. Flickering flame distorts their features, turning eyes into burning coals, mouths into smiling fangs, and men into demons.
    One of them steps up to the wall of fire, close enough to burn. But he doesn’t. Instead, he draws the flames apart like a curtain.
    Only one person can do that.
    Maven shakes embers from his silly cape, letting the silk burn away while his armor holds firm. He has the gall to smile.
    And somehow, Cal has the strength to turn away. Instead of tearing Maven apart with his bare hands, he takes my wrist in his searing-hot grip. We sprint together, not bothering to defend our backs. Maven is no match for either of us, and he knows it. Instead, he screams. Despitethe crown and the blood on his hands, he is still so young.
    “Run, murderer! Run, lightning girl! Run fast and far!” His laughter echoes off the crumbling ruins, haunting me. “There is nowhere I won’t find you!”
    I’m dimly aware of my lightning failing, giving out as I get farther away. Cal’s own flame crumbles with it, exposing us to the rest of the legion. But we’re already jumping through midair, to the river ten feet below.
    We land, not with a splash but the resounding clang of metal. I have to roll to keep from shattering my ankles, but still feel a hollow, aching pain run up my bones. What? Farley waits, knee-deep in the cold river, next to a cylindrical metal tube with an open top. Without speaking she clambers into it, disappearing into whatever lies beneath us. We have no time to argue or ask questions, and follow blindly.
    At least Cal has the good sense to close the tube behind us, shutting out the river and the war above. It hisses pneumatically, forming an airtight seal. But that won’t protect us for long, not against the legion.
    “More tunnels?” I ask breathlessly, whirling to Farley. My vision spots with the motion and I have to slump against the wall, my legs shaking.
    Like she did on the street, Farley puts one arm under my shoulder, supporting my weight. “No, this isn’t a tunnel,” she says with a puzzling smirk.
    And then I feel it. Like a battery humming somewhere, but bigger. Stronger. It pulses all around us, down the strange hallway swimming with blinking buttons and low, yellow lights. I glimpse red scarves moving down the passage, hiding the faces of the Guardsmen. They look hazy, like crimson shadows. With a groan, the whole hall shuddersand drops , angling downward. Into the water.
    “A boat. An underwater boat,” Cal says. His voice is faraway, shaky, and weak. Just like I feel.
    Neither of us makes it more than a few feet before we collapse against the sloping walls.



THREE
    I n the past few days, I’ve woken up in a jail cell and then on a train. Now it’s an underwater boat. Where will I wake up tomorrow?
    I’m beginning to think this has all been a dream, or a hallucination, or worse. But can you feel tired in dreams? Because I certainly do. My exhaustion is bone-deep, in every muscle and nerve. My heart is another wound entirely, still bleeding from betrayal and failure. When I open my eyes, finding cramped, gray walls, everything I want to forget comes rushing back. It’s like Queen Elara is in my head again, forcing me to relive my worst memories. As much as I try, I can’t stop them.
    My quiet maids were executed, guilty of nothing but painting my skin. Tristan, speared like a pig. Walsh. She was my brother’s age, a servant from the Stilts, my friend— one of us . And she died cruelly, by her own hand, to protect the Guard, our purpose, and me. Even more died in the tunnels of Caesar’s Square, Guardsmen killed by Cal’s soldiers, killed by our foolish plan. The memory of red blood burns, but so does the thought of silver. Lucas, a friend, a protector, a Silver witha