Everlife. Gena Showalter

       chapter six

      “The only advice you should heed is your own.”

      —Myriad

      Ten

      Behind me, the Generals give a collective gasp of shock and disappointment. Except for Luciana. With a scream of rage and horror, she falls to her knees. Beyond us, the crowd goes wild, a handful of people cheering, most others booing.

      My decision remains unwavering. With Archer at my side, peace between the realms isn’t just a possibility but a probability.

      Approval glows in Eron’s eyes, and I’m certain I made the right decision. Relief nearly buckles my knees. But mixed with relief is a tingle of dread. I’m still going to be punished by my haters, aren’t I?

      Eron speaks into my mind as clearly as if he’s addressing the entire realm. —Doing what’s right isn’t always supported by those around you. Even the most well-meaning people can stumble into darkness. Show your adversaries the Light, Architect. Show them you are willing to fight for what you believe. Show them you will not back down. You will not cower. That is how you win.—

      The reminder jolts me: I’m an Architect. What does that mean, exactly? —Help me.—

      A soft laugh. —Not a day goes by that I don’t.—

      “The choice has been made. So she has said, so it shall be done.” This time, the Secondking’s words resound throughout the entire city, drowning out every other decibel of noise. “Behold. The Resurrection of Archer Prince.”

      A bright Light shines, blinding me. My world goes dark, but only for a second.

      As the Light fades, the world comes back into focus. The Secondking is gone. At least, gone according to my eyes. Eyes do not always tell the full story.

      Across the dais, a doorway forms from air, as if one layer has been peeled away from another, revealing a whole new world. Through that doorway, I see the fantastical land of the Rest, where a rainbow-colored sky glitters with thousands of stars, dinosaurs roam and peace isn’t a hope but a way of life.

      Is this really happening? Will Archer, a boy I’ve missed with every fiber of my being, walk through that doorway and join the living? Will he receive a second chance at Secondlife?

      For a moment, one perfect, stolen moment of time, I think I spy the others in that small doorway. Elizabeth, a tall, slender brunette, smiles at me, content. Meredith, a petite blonde, beams at me, as if she’s proud of me. Levi, the tallest, all tanned and chiseled, nods in support.

      Tears scald my eyes, threatening to fall. I miss these guys, so, so much. Then Archer steps through the doorway, and my heart stops thudding only to flutter with happiness. He’s as tall as Killian, as packed with muscle, tanned like a surfer and blond with copper eyes. While Killian is raw seduction and rugged aggression, Archer is flawless beauty and tempered steel.

      I used to think of the two Laborers as sinner and saint, but I was wrong. Like everyone else, both boys have their strengths and their flaws.

      Both deserve the best life has to offer, and both want what’s best for their realm.

      They will choose love over war, and love will not let them down.

      With unsteady knees, I trip forward, my speed increasing until I’m running. Then I’m throwing myself into Archer’s open arms, hugging him tight. He hugs me right back, and he’s trembling just as violently.

      I breathe in his scent—clean cotton warmed by the sun. I love this boy like a brother. Since his death, a piece of my heart has been missing.

      Finally he pulls back and shakes me. “Why?” he demands, his English accent slight but noticeable. “I mean, I know why. I just think you should have—”

      “No,” I interject, the word little more than a croak. His eyes are different. The same color, just...deeper, wiser, fathomless. “I did what I should have done.”

      “The war—”

      “I want peace between realms, Bow. You’re going to help me.” The first time we met, his gloriously masculine self was encased in the Shell of a short, pink-haired girl he’d called Bow. The nickname stuck. “I need to catch you up on everything that’s happened.”

      “No need. I caught myself up before the Vote. We all did. We watched playbacks of your life in the Rest.”

      “So you know I’m an Architect.” Just saying the word gives me pause. I clear my throat. “And that I’m kind of a married woman now. Oh, and that I also expect you to help save my husband.” I drop each point all casual like, as if, hey, no big deal. Meanwhile my brain is shouting huge deals!

      “Yes. On both counts. I knew about the promotion before you did.” As he leans down, his eyes narrow. With his mouth at my ear, he whispers, “I also know your husband is here, in Troika, and I’d like five minutes alone with him—and a baseball bat.”

      I straighten with a jolt. “Do you know where he is, exactly?” When he doesn’t respond right away, I grip his shoulders to shake him. He’s wider than I remember, and more solid. But he’s also weaker, the forced movements causing him to stumble. Ugh.

      “Well, do you?” I ask, dropping my arms to my sides. Mental note: Archer has just come back from the dead. He might not be in tip-top shape yet.

      “No. I tried to find him, but he’s been expertly hidden.”

      Zero!

      Frowning, I say, “Why do you want to hurt him? I thought you two were getting along before your death.”

      “Hey!” someone shouts, drowning out Archer’s reply. “What’s wrong with our Conduit? Where is her Light?”

      —Tenley.—

      Killian’s voice suddenly rings