The gunfire coming down from the fourth floor had stopped and we’d made it to the bottom of the stairwell. We were nearly there! The studio was right at the stop of those stairs!

But every time we tried to advance, withering gunfire pushed us back. Master Sergeant Hadley shook his head. “There are too many of them,” he yelled.

I was still hunched over: I couldn’t straighten up properly without my chest exploding into agony. Where’s Garrett? He should have been back by now. “We have to finish this,” I croaked.

Hadley winced as bullets splintered the doorframe inches from where we were huddled. “It’s too dangerous. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. We have to pull back.” He turned and began looking for a route back downstairs.

Cold despair flooded through me, draining the last of my strength. We’d failed. We’d failed and millions of people were going to die.

I thought of Silvas Lukin and his hatred. Of Aleksander and his need for revenge. Of Jakov and his struggle to fit in. The last war was still claiming victims. How many generations would this next one condemn? We had to stop this now. Here. Today.

I gritted my teeth... and heaved myself upright. As all the bruised parts of my chest were stretched, the pain was so bad, I nearly passed out. I grabbed hold of the doorframe and squeezed it as hard as I could, determined not to scream. “No,” I told Master Sergeant Hadley.

The three remaining marines all turned to look at me, their eyes wide. They were scared. They just wanted to go home to their wives and kids. They’d seen their friends shot. They had Hadley to lead them, but right now, they needed something else. And I tried my best to give it to them.

I was smaller than any of them, but I stood as tall as I could. “I know that you’re not from my country,” I said, my voice shaking with pain. “I know this isn’t your war. And I’m not asking you to fight because of some treaty, or because of orders, or because the President asked you to. This is about lives. Millions of people who are going to be killed.” I drew in a shuddering breath. “So you can give up and go home or you can fight on but don’t tell me it’s too dangerous! Because those people are civilians and they’re facing annihilation. And the only thing, the only thing standing between them and those bastards is you.”

There was utter silence for a few seconds. Then Master Sergeant Hadley said, “What do you say, marines?”

The other two responded immediately, with a yell they must have heard right through the building. “Oorah!”

And they raced up the stairs with me right on their heels. The soldiers who’d been holding us back sprayed bullets down at us, but they were firing in panic: they hadn’t been expecting us to suddenly rush them. I felt the bullets hiss right by us, one barely missing my face, but none of them hit.

On the far side of the huge studio, I saw Aleksander standing before a semicircle of cameras, addressing the nation. If we could just cover the thirty feet or so of open space and get in front of the cameras, we’d be on the air.

We sprinted forward, but soldiers swarmed to intercept us, some rushing at us and some firing from where they stood. There were too many of them. We’re not going to make it!

Twenty feet from the cameras, a soldier slammed into one of the marines, tearing him away from our little group and carrying him down to the floor. Master Sergeant Hadley and the other remaining marine grabbed my arms and hauled me forward, firing to clear a path. “Keep going!” Hadley yelled. But just a few steps further on, the other marine fell, clutching at a leg wound.

Hadley and I ran on. We were less than ten feet from the cameras, now. I could see Aleksander watching us out of the corner of his eye as he spoke calmly to the nation about how they must be brave in the coming war.

Hadley suddenly spun and fell to the ground, clutching at his shoulder. I grabbed his hand and tried to haul him along with me. “No!” he snapped. “Leave me! Just go!”

I looked up. A soldier was racing towards me, his hand already reaching down to grab me—

I ducked and scrambled between two camera operators and—

Everything stopped.

I stood beside Aleksander, panting. At least ten rifles were pointed right at me from behind the cameras, but no one was shooting. They can’t kill me, I realized in shock. Not in cold blood, on live TV, without a trial.

“Cut it! Cut the broadcast!” snapped Aleksander.

A woman just behind the cameras, wearing a headset, shook her head, her face pale. She pointed to a glass-walled control room above us. Aleksander and I both looked.

Emerik and Jakov were in there, guns drawn, making sure the technical staff kept broadcasting. Emerik gave me a nod.

I stepped forward and looked right into the camera Aleksander had been talking to. “I need to speak to you,” I said to millions of viewers. “I need to tell you—”

I broke off.

Silvas Lukin had just burst into the studio, behind the cameras. He was holding a bruised and battered Garrett in front of him, and had a knife pressed against Garrett’s throat.

Aleksander stepped close to me and whispered in my ear, too low for even the microphones to pick it up. I froze and listened, still staring into the camera. “This would have been tidier if you’d just been killed,” he said. “I don’t want a trial and an execution. So I’m going to make you an offer, one that lets you fix everything.”

I kept staring at the camera listening, my breathing tight.

“I’ll let you and the American live and exile you,” Aleksander told me. “You can go to Carlonia and be with your parents.”

I drew in a slow, shuddering breath of hope.

“... all you have to do is tell the people that you were deceived by the Garmanians,” said Aleksander. “Say you’re handing power over to me and renouncing the throne.”

It felt as if my insides had turned to ice. No!

“Or you can watch him die right in front of you,” Aleksander whispered.