Miracle's POV
"No," I said. The word was flat. Final.
"Yes," he countered, his voice leaving no room for argument. He came around to look at me, and I saw it then—the profound, bone-deep sadness in his eyes.
"Grandpa died," he whispered, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets to hide their trembling. "I was in his room when you called… cleaning up. I didn't want Dad to have to do it. I threw out his day-old tea, made his bed, and I…" He blinked, and a single tear dropped down his cheek.
I reached out and wiped it away with my thumb. The gesture felt automatic, something the old me would do.
"He's gone. And I'm… wrecked, Miracle. And I know he always said don't cry when you're down, but I can't seem to stop. I got to see him these last two years. You didn't. I'm so sorry you didn't. Because he loved you. He loved us. He—"
"I know. I saw him."
I didn't hug him. Old me would have, new me wasn't a fan of physical touch. The information was simply a fact. "He's happy, Xavier. He's exactly where he's supposed to be. He told me to go home."
He looked at me, shoulders slumping. "You can't. Not yet. The life we had is gone. New York is gone. Dad is King of Zolcovia now. I'm the Crown Prince. And you… you're a princess who's next in line. Or you were. You should be but Instead of returning to serve your mandatory military service at eighteen like every heir has to do for centuries… you ran off with—"
"Steve," I finished, the name a bitter pill.
"Yes. You have to serve before you turn twenty. That's next week. Parliament was already calling for your head. Grandpa fought them, but he's dead now. And Dad… Dad won't even say your name." He stopped, finally seeing the cold stillness on my face.
"He won't?" The question was clinical. A data point.
"No. Nothing is how you left it. I know he wants you home—he loves you, of course he does—but look at you, Miracle." His gaze swept over my battered state, the bloodstained dress. "You look like you'd break in a strong wind. If I take you home now, our parents will never make you go. You'll be stripped of your title. Mom will shatter. Dad will retreat into a shell I can't reach. I can't survive another hit like that. Not right now."
The last of my hope didn't just leave me; it was incinerated.
I stared at my brother as he laid out my impossible future. Join the military. The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. I could barely get my heart to beat in a normal rhythm.
Every fiber of my being screamed to go home. To fall into my mother's arms and let her absorb the pain. To demand my father make good on his old promise: When you fall, I will rebuild you.
But that girl was dead. Steve killed her in that bathroom. Xavier was just burying the body.
"Xav, I just want to go home. Maybe Dad would choose me over some ancient rule—"
"Maybe," he cut me off, his voice hard. "But I'm not going to let him make that choice, Mimi. I won't watch him destroy his kingdom for you."
I stared at him. Couldn't he see? My foundation wasn't just shaky; it was dust.
So I let my crack show.
"I can't do it," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "Not now."
"You don't have a choice."
He moved to the trunk, pulled out a backpack, and dropped it at my feet. "Change into something that doesn't look like a crime scene. Then I drive you to the bus."
"Xav—"
"This isn't easy for me!" he snapped, shoving the bag into my hands. "I'm fighting the urge to find that piece of shit and end him. I believe in you. You can do this."
I nodded slowly. The motion made the world tilt. I can do this. It was a lie.
"I can't."
"You can. You don't have to pick a combat unit. Choose Intelligence. ZIS. It's a desk job. You're a princess; they'll treat you like glass. Just find the bus for Zolcovia Intelligence Squad. You'll be fine."
I gave another slow nod, the dizziness a constant hum.
He tapped my hand, forcing my focus. "And Miracle, no matter what, avoid the KSI units. Their buses, their recruiters, all of it. I have no power to pull you out if you go there. Do you understand? Stay focused."
"KSI?" I asked, the acronym sticking in my foggy brain.
"Yes!" he said, his voice strained with urgency. "Avoid them!"
Okay, Xavier. I thought, a cold, sharp clarity cutting through the haze. Loud and clear.
KSI. The most dangerous branch. The one he explicitly forbade.
It was the only unit that made sense.
The old Miracle would have chosen the safe, easy path. The one that required rebuilding.
The new one? The one who was hollowed out and filled with rage? She didn't want to be rebuilt. She wanted to be reforged into something sharp and lethal. She didn't want a desk; she wanted a weapon.
KSI it is.