ALSOBYMARIELU

LEGENDPRODIGY

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Summary:“JuneandDayhavesacrificedsomuchforthepeopleoftheRepublic—andeachother—andnowtheircountryisonthebrinkofanewexistence.Justwhenapeacetreatyisimminent,aplagueoutbreakcausespanicintheColonies,andwarthreatenstheRepublic’sbordercities”—Providedby

publisher.[1.Plague—Fiction.2.Love—Fiction.3.Sciencefiction.]I.Title.

PZ7.L96768Ch2013[Fic]—dc232013028221

ISBN978-0-698-13541-3MapillustrationbyPeterBollinger.

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Contents

AlsobyMarieLuTitlePageCopyrightDedicationMapDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJuneDayJune

DayJuneTenYearsLaterAcknowledgments

SANFRANCISCO,CALIFORNIAREPUBLICOFAMERICA

POPULATION:24,646,320

OUTOFALLTHEDISGUISESI’VEWORN,THISONEmightbemyfavorite.

Darkredhair,differentenoughfrommyusualwhite-blond,cuttojustpastmyshouldersandpulledbackintoatail.Greencontactsthatlooknaturalwhenlayeredovermyblueeyes.Acrumpled,half-tuckedcollarshirt,itstinysilverbuttonsshininginthedark,athinmilitaryjacket,blackpantsandsteel-toedboots,athickgrayscarfwrappedaroundmyneck,chin,andmouth.Adarksoldiercapispulledlowovermyforehead,andacrimson,paintedtattoostretchesalloverthelefthalfofmyface,changingmeintosomeoneunfamiliar.Asidefromthis,Iwearanever-presentearpieceandmike.TheRepublicinsistsonit.

Inmostothercities,I’dprobablygetevenmorestaresthanIusuallydobecauseofthatgiantgoddytattoo—notexactlyasubtlemarker,Igottaadmit.ButhereinSanFrancisco,Iblendrightinwiththeothers.ThefirstthingInoticedwhenEdenandImovedtoFriscoeightmonthsagowasthelocaltrend:youngpeoplepaintingblackorredpatternsontheirfaces,somesmallanddelicate,likeRepublicsealsontheirtemplesorsomethingsimilar,othershugeandsprawling,likegiantpatternsoftheRepublic’slandshape.Ichoseaprettygenerictattootonight,becauseI’mnotloyalenoughtotheRepublictostampthatloyaltyrightonmyface.LeavethattoJune.Instead,Ihavestylizedflames.Goodenough.

Myinsomnia’sactinguptonight,soinsteadofsleeping,I’mwalkingalonethroughasectorcalledMarina,whichasfarasIcantellisthehillier,FriscoequivalentofLA’sLakesector.Thenight’scoolandprettyquiet,andalightdrizzleisblowinginfromthecity’sbay.Thestreetsarenarrow,glisteningwet,andriddledwithpotholes,andthebuildingsthatriseuponbothsides—mostofthemtallenoughtovanishintotonight’slow-lyingclouds—areeclectic,paintedwithfadingredandgoldandblack,theirsidesfortifiedwithenormoussteelbeamstocountertheearthquakesthatroll

througheverycoupleofmonths.JumboTronsfiveorsixstorieshighsitoneveryotherblock,blaringtheusualbarrageofRepublicnews.Theairsmellssaltyandbitter,likesmokeandindustrialwastemixedwithseawater,andsomewhereinthere,afaintwhiffoffriedfish.Sometimes,whenIturndownacorner,I’llsuddenlyendupcloseenoughtothewater’sedgetogetmybootswet.Herethelandslopesrightintothebayandhundredsofbuildingspokeouthalfsubmergedalongthehorizon.WheneverIgetaviewofthebay,IcanalsoseetheGoldenGateRuins,thetwistedremnantsofsomeoldbridgeallpiledupalongtheothersideoftheshore.Ahandfulofpeoplejostlepastmenowandthen,butforthemostpartthecityisasleep.Scatteredbonfireslightalleyways,gatheringspotsforthesector’sstreetfolks.It’snotthatdifferentfromLake.

Well—Iguesstherearesomedifferencesnow.TheSanFranciscoTrialStadium,forone,whichsitsemptyandunlitoffinthedistance.Fewerstreetpoliceinthepoorsectors.Thecity’sgraffiti.Youcanalwaysgetanideaofhowthepeoplearefeelingbylookingattherecentgraffiti.AlotofthemessagesI’veseenlatelyactuallysupporttheRepublic’snewElector.Heisourhope,saysonemessagescrawledonthesideofabuilding.Anotherpaintedonthestreetreads:TheElectorwillguideusoutofthedarkness.Alittletoooptimistic,ifyouaskme,butIguessthey’regoodsigns.Andenmustbedoingsomethingright.Andyet.Everynowandthen,I’llalsoseemessagesthatsay,TheElector’sahoax,orBrainwashed,orTheDayweknewisdead.

Idon’tknow.SometimesthisnewtrustbetweenAndenandthepeoplefeelslikeastring...andIamthatstring.Besides,maybethehappygraffiti’sfake,paintedbypropagandaofficers.Whynot?

YouneverknowwiththeRepublic.EdenandI,ofcourse,haveaFriscoapartmentinarichsectorcalled

Pacifica,wherewestaywithourcaretaker,Lucy.TheRepublic’sgottatakecareofitssixteen-year-oldmost-wanted-criminal-turned-national-hero,doesn’tit?IrememberhowmuchIdistrustedLucy—astern,stout,fifty-two-year-oldladydressedinclassicRepubliccolors—whenshefirstshowedupatourdoorinDenver.“TheRepublichasassignedmetoassistyouboys,”shetoldmeasshebustledintoourapartment.HereyeshadsettledimmediatelyonEden.“Especiallythelittleone.”

Yeah.Thatdidn’tsitwellwithme.Firstofall,it’dtakenmetwomonthsbeforeIcouldevenletEdenoutofmysight.Weatesidebyside;weslept

sidebyside;hewasneveralone.I’dgoneasfarasstandingoutsidehisbathroomdoor,asifRepublicsoldierswouldsomehowsuckhimoutthroughavent,takehimbacktoalab,andhookhimuptoabunchofmachines.

“Edendoesn’tneedyou,”I’dsnappedatLucy.“He’sgotme.Itakecareofhim.”

Butmyhealthstartedfluctuatingafterthosefirstcoupleofmonths.SomedaysIfeltfine;otherdays,I’dbestuckinbedwithacripplingheadache.Onthosebaddays,Lucywouldtakeover—andafterafewshoutingmatches,sheandIsettledintoagrudgingroutine.Shedoesmakeprettyawesomemeatpies.AndwhenwemovedheretoFrisco,shecamewithus.SheguidesEden.Shemanagesmymedications.

WhenI’mfinallytiredofwalking,InoticethatI’vewanderedrightoutofMarinaandintoawealthierneighboringdistrict.IstopinfrontofaclubwithTHEOBSIDIANLOUNGEscoredintoametalslaboveritsdoor.Islideagainstthewallintoasittingposition,myarmsrestingonmyknees,andfeelthemusic’svibrations.Mymetallegisice-coldthroughthefabricofmytrousers.Onthewallacrossfromme,graffitiscrawledinredreads,Day=Traitor.Isigh,takeasilvertinfrommypocket,andpulloutalongcigarette.IrunafingeracrosstheSANFRANCISCOCENTRALHOSPITALtextimprinteddownitslength.Prescriptioncigarettes.Doctor’sorders,yeah?Iputittomylipswithtremblingfingersandlightitup.Closeeyes.Takeapuff.GraduallyIlosemyselfinthecloudsofbluesmoke,waitingforthesweet,hallucinogeniceffectstowashoverme.

Doesn’ttakelongtonight.Soontheconstant,dullheadachedisappears,andtheworldaroundmetakesonablurrysheenthatIknowisn’tonlyfromtherain.Agirl’ssittingnexttome.It’sTess.

ShegivesmethegrinIwassofamiliarwithbackonthestreetsofLake.“AnynewsfromtheJumboTrons?”sheasksme,pointingtowardascreenacrosstheroad.

Iexhalebluesmokeandlazilyshakemyhead.“Nope.Imean,I’veseenacoupleofPatriot-relatedheadlines,butit’slikeyouguysvanishedoffthemap.Whereareyou?Whereareyougoing?”

“Doyoumissme?”Tessasksinsteadofanswering.Istareattheshimmeryimageofher.She’showIrememberfromthe

streets—herreddish-brownhairtiedintoamessybraid,hereyeslargeandluminous,kindandgentle.LittlebabyTess.Whatweremylastwordsto

her...backwhenwehadbotchedthePatriots’assassinationattemptonAnden?Please,Tess—Ican’tleaveyouhere.Butthat’sexactlywhatIdid.

Iturnaway,takinganotherdragonmycigarette.DoImissher?“Everyday,”Ireply.

“You’vebeentryingtofindme,”Tesssays,scootingcloser.IswearIcanalmostfeelhershoulderagainstmine.“I’veseenyou,scouringtheJumboTronsandairwavesfornews,eavesdroppingonthestreets.ButthePatriotsareinhidingrightnow.”

Ofcoursethey’reinhiding.Whywouldtheyattack,nowthatAnden’sinpowerandapeacetreatybetweentheRepublicandtheColoniesisadonedeal?Whatcouldtheirnewcausepossiblybe?Ihavenoidea.Maybetheydon’thaveone.Maybetheydon’tevenexistanymore.“Iwishyouwouldcomeback,”ImurmurtoTess.“It’dbenicetoseeyouagain.”

“WhataboutJune?”Assheasksthis,herimagevanishes.She’sreplacedbyJune,withher

longponytailandherdarkeyesthatshinewithhintsofgold,seriousandanalyzing,alwaysanalyzing.Ileanmyheadagainstmykneeandclosemyeyes.EventheillusionofJuneisenoughtosendastabbingpainthroughmychest.Hell.Imisshersomuch.

IrememberhowI’dsaidgood-byetoherbackinDenver,beforeEdenandImovedtoFrisco.“I’msurewe’llbeback,”I’dtoldherovermymike,tryingtofilltheawkwardsilencebetweenus.“AfterEden’streatmentisdone.”Thiswasalie,ofcourse.WeweregoingtoFriscoformytreatment,notEden’s.ButJunedidn’tknowthis,soshejustsaid,“Comebacksoon.”

Thatwasalmosteightmonthsago.Ihaven’theardfromhersince.Idon’tknowifit’sbecauseeachofusistoohesitanttobothertheother,tooafraidthattheotherdoesn’twanttotalk,ormaybebothofusarejusttoodamnproudtobetheonedesperateenoughtoreachout.Maybeshe’sjustnotinterestedenough.Butyouknowhowitgoes.Aweekpasseswithoutcontact,andthenamonth,andsoontoomuchtimehaspassedandcallingherwouldjustfeelrandomandweird.SoIdon’t.Besides,whatwouldIsay?Don’tworry,doctorsarefightingtosavemylife.Don’tworry,they’retryingtoshrinktheproblemareainmybrainwithagiantpileofmedicationbeforeattemptinganoperation.Don’tworry,Antarcticamightgrantmeaccesstotreatmentintheirsuperiorhospitals.Don’tworry,I’llbejustfine.

What’sthepointofkeepingintouchwiththegirlyou’recrazyabout,

whenyou’redying?Theremindersendsathrobbingpainthroughthebackofmyhead.“It’s

betterthisway,”Itellmyselfforthehundredthtime.Anditis.Bynotseeingherforsolong,thememoryofhowwe’doriginallymethasgrowndimmer,andIfindmyselfthinkingaboutherconnectiontomyfamily’sdeathslessoften.

UnlikeTess’s,forsomereasonJune’simageneversaysaword.Itrytoignoretheshimmerymirage,butsherefusestogoaway.Sodamnstubborn.

Finally,Istand,stubmycigaretteintothepavement,andstepthroughthedooroftheObsidianLounge.Maybethemusicandlightswillshakeherfrommysystem.

Foraninstant,Ican’tseeathing.Theclubispitch-black,andthesound’sdeafening.I’mstoppedimmediatelybyanenormouspairofsoldiers.Oneofthemputsafirmhandonmyshoulder.“Nameandbranch?”heasks.

Ihavenointerestinmakingmyrealidentityknown.“CorporalSchuster.Airforce,”Ireply,blurtingoutarandomnameandthefirstbranchthatcomestomind.Ialwaysthinkoftheairforcefirst,mostlybecauseofKaede.“I’mstationedatNavalBaseTwo.”

Theguardnods.“Airforcekidsoverinthebackleft,nearthebathrooms.AndifIhearyoupickinganyfightswiththearmybooths,you’reoutandyourcommanderhearsaboutitinthemorning.Gotit?”

Inod,andthesoldiersletmepass.Iwalkdownadarkhallandthroughaseconddoor,thenmeltintothecrowdsandflashinglightsinside.

Thedancefloorisjammedwithpeopleinlooseshirtsandrolled-upsleeves,dressespairedwithrumpleduniforms.Ifindtheairforceboothsinthebackoftheroom.Good,thereareseveralemptyones.Islideintoabooth,propupmybootsagainstthecushionedseats,andleanmyheadback.AtleastJune’simagehasdisappeared.Theloudmusicsendsallmythoughtsscattering.

I’veonlybeenintheboothforafewminuteswhenagirlcutsherwaythroughthecrowdeddancefloorandstumblestowardme.Shelooksflushed,hereyesbrightandteasing;andwhenIglancebehindher,Inoticeaclusteroflaughinggirlswatchingus.Iforceasmile.Usually,Iliketheattentioninclubs,butsometimes,Ijustwanttoclosemyeyesandletthechaostakemeaway.

Sheleansoverandpressesherlipsagainstmyear.“Excuseme,”she

shoutsoverthenoise.“Mygirlfriendswanttoknowifyou’reDay.”I’vebeenrecognizedalready?Ishrinkinstinctivelyawayandshakemy

headsotheotherscansee.“Yougotthewrongguy,”Ireplywithawrygrin.“Butthanksforthecompliment.”

Thegirl’sfaceisalmostentirelycoveredinshadows,butevenso,Icantellshe’sblushingfuriously.Herfriendsburstoutlaughing.Noneofthemlookliketheybelievemydenial.“Wanttodance?”thegirlasks.Sheglancesoverhershouldertowardtheflashingblueandgoldlights,thenbackatme.Thismustbesomethingherfriendsdaredhertodotoo.

AsI’mtryingtothinkupsomesortofpoliterefusal,Itakeinthegirl’sappearance.Theclub’stoodarkformetogetagoodlookather,andallIseeareglimpsesofneonhighlightsonherskinandlongponytail,herglossylipscurvedintoasmile,herbodyleanandsmoothinashortdressandmilitaryboots.Myrefusalfadesonmytongue.SomethingaboutherremindsmeofJune.IntheeightmonthssinceJunefirstbecameaPrinceps-Elect,Ihaven’tfeltexcitedaboutmanygirls—butnow,withthisshadowydoppelgängerbeckoningmeontothedancefloor,Iletmyselffeelhopefulagain.

“Yeah,whynot?”Isay.Thegirlbreaksintoawidesmile.WhenIgetupfromtheboothand

takeherhand,herfriendsallletoutagaspofsurprise,followedbyaloudcheer.Thegirlleadsmethroughthem,andbeforeIknowit,we’vepushedourwayintothecrowdsandcarvedoutatinyspacerightinthemiddleoftheaction.

Ipressmyselfagainsther,sherunsahandalongthebackofmyneck,andweletthepoundingbeatcarryusaway.She’scute,Iadmittomyself,blindedinthisseaoflightsandlimbs.Thesongchanges,thenchangesagain.Ihavenoideahowlongwe’relostlikethis,butwhensheleansforwardandbrushesherlipsovermyown,Iclosemyeyesandlether.Ievenfeelashiverrundownmyspine.Shekissesmetwice,hermouthsoftandliquid,hertonguetastingofvodkaandfruit.Iflattenonehandagainstthesmallofthegirl’sbackandpullhercloser,untilherbody’ssolidlyagainstmine.Herkissesgrowmoreurgent.SheisJune,Itellmyself,choosingtoindulgeinthefantasy.Withmyeyesclosed,mymindstillhazyfrommycigarette’shallucinogens,Icanbelieveitforamoment—Icanpictureherkissingmehere,takingeverylastbreathfrommylungs.Thegirlprobablysensesthechangeinmymovements,mysuddenhungerand

desire,becauseshegrinsagainstmylips.SheisJune.ItisJune’sdarkhairthatbrushesagainstmyface,June’slonglashesthattouchmycheeks,June’sarmwrappedaroundmyneck,June’sbodyslidingagainstmine.Asoftmoanescapesme.

“Comeon,”shewhispers.Mischieflacesherwords.“Let’sgogetsomeair.”

Howlonghasitbeen?Idon’twanttoleave,becauseitmeansI’llhavetoopenmyeyesandJunewillbegone,replacedwiththisgirlthatIdon’tknow.ButshepullsonmyhandandI’mforcedtolookaround.Juneisnowheretobeseen,ofcourse.Theclub’slightsflashandI’mmomentarilyblinded.Sheguidesmethroughthethrongsofdancers,downtheclub’sdarkhallway,andoutanunmarkedbackdoor.Westepintoaquietbackalley.Afewweakspotlightsshinedownalongthepath,givingeverythinganeerie,greenishglow.

Shepushesmeagainstthewallanddrownsmeinanotherkiss.Herskinismoist,andIfeelhergoosebumpsrisebeneathmytouch.Ikissherback,andasmalllaughofsurpriseescapesherwhenIflipusaroundandpinheragainstthewall.

She’sJune,Itellmyselfonrepeat.Mylipsworkgreedilyalongherneck,tastingsmokeandperfume.

Faintstaticsizzlesinmyearpiece,thesoundofrainandfryingeggs.Itrytoignoretheincomingcall,evenasaman’svoicefillsmyears.Talkaboutabuzzkill.“Mr.Wing,”hesays.

Idon’tanswerit.Goaway.I’mbusy.Afewsecondslater,thevoicestartsupagain.“Mr.Wing,thisisCaptain

DavidGuzmanofDenverCityPatrolFourteen.Iknowyou’rethere.”Oh,thisguy.Thispoorcaptain’salwaystheonetaskedwithtryingtoget

holdofme.Isighandbreakawayfromthegirl.“Sorry,”Isaybreathlessly.Igive

heranapologeticfrownandgestureatmyear.“Givemeaminute?”Shesmilesandsmoothesdownherdress.“I’llbeinside,”shereplies.

“Lookforme.”Thenshestepsthroughthedoorandbackintotheclub.Iturnmymikeonandstartslowlypacingupanddownthealley.“What

doyouwant?”Isayinanannoyedwhisper.Thecaptainsighsovertheearpieceandlaunchesintohismessage.“Mr.

Wing,yourpresenceisrequestedinDenvertomorrownight,onIndependenceDay,attheCapitolTower’sballroom.Asalways,youarefree

toturndowntherequest—asyouusuallydo,”hemuttersunderhisbreath.“However,thisbanquetisanexceptionalmeetingofgreatimportance.Shouldyouchoosetoattend,we’llhaveaprivatejetwaitingforyouinthemorning.”

Anexceptionalmeetingofgreatimportance?Everheardsomanyfancywordsinonesentence?Irollmyeyes.Everymonthorso,Igetaninvitationtosomegoddycapitalevent,likeaballforallthehigh-rankingwargeneralsorthecelebrationtheyheldwhenAndenfinallyendedtheTrials.Buttheonlyreasontheywantmetogotothesethingsissotheycanshowmeoffandremindthepeople,“Look,justincaseyouforgot,Dayisonourside!”Don’tpushyourluck,Anden.

“Mr.Wing,”thecaptainsayswhenIstaysilent,asifhe’sresortingtosomefinalargument,“thegloriousElectorpersonallyrequestsyourpresence.SodoesthePrinceps-Elect.”

ThePrinceps-Elect.Mybootscrunchtoahaltinthemiddleofthealley.Iforgettobreathe.Don’tgettooexcited—afterall,therearethreePrinceps-Elects,andhe

mightbereferringtoanyoneofthem.AfewsecondspassbeforeIfinallyask,“WhichPrinceps-Elect?”

“Theonewhoactuallymatterstoyou.”Mycheekswarmatthetauntinhisvoice.“June?”“Yes,Ms.JuneIparis,”thecaptainreplies.Hesoundsrelievedtofinally

havemyattention.“Shewantedtomakeitapersonalrequestthistime.ShewouldverymuchliketoseeyouattheCapitolTower’sbanquet.”

Myheadaches,andIfighttosteadymybreathing.Allthoughtsofthegirlintheclubgooutthewindow.Junehasnotpersonallyaskedformeineightmonths—thisisthefirsttimethatshe’srequestedIattendapublicfunction.“What’sthisfor?”Iask.“JustanIndependenceDayparty?Whysoimportant?”

Thecaptainhesitates.“It’samatterofnationalsecurity.”“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”Myinitialexcitementslowlywanes—

maybehe’sjustbluffing.“Look,Captain,I’vegotsomeunfinishedbusinesstotakecareof.Tryconvincingmeagaininthemorning.”

Thecaptaincursesunderhisbreath.“Fine,Mr.Wing.Haveityourway.”HemumblessomethingIcan’tquitemakeout,thengoesoffline.Ifrowninexasperationasmyinitialexcitementfadesawayintoasinkingdisappointment.MaybeIshouldheadhomenow.It’stimeformetogoback

andcheckuponEden,anyway.Whatajoke.Chancesarehe’sprobablylyingaboutJune’srequestinthefirstplace,becauseifshe’dreallywantedmetogobacktothecapitalthatbadly,she—

“Day?”Anewvoicecomesovermyearpiece.Ifreeze.Havethehallucinogensfromthemedswornoffyet?DidIjustimagine

hervoice?EventhoughIhaven’thearditinalmostayear,Iwouldrecognizeitanywhere,andthesoundaloneisenoughtoconjuretheimageofJunestandingbeforeme,asifI’drunacrossherbychanceinthisalley.Please,don’tletitbeher.Please,letitbeher.

Didhervoicealwayshavethiseffectonme?IhavenoideahowlongIwasfrozenlikethis,butitmust’vebeena

while,becausesherepeats,“Day,it’sme.June.Areyouthere?”Ashiverrunsthroughme.

Thisisreal.It’sreallyher.HertoneisdifferentfromwhatIremember.Hesitantandformal,like

she’sspeakingtoastranger.Ifinallymanagetocomposemyselfandclickmymikebackon.“I’mhere,”Ireply.Myowntoneisdifferenttoo—justashesitant,justasformal.Ihopeshedoesn’theartheslighttremorinit.

There’sashortpauseontheothersidebeforeJunecontinues.“Hi.”Thenalongsilence,followedby,“Howareyou?”

SuddenlyIfeelastormofwordsbuildingupinsideme,threateningtopourout.Iwanttoblurtouteverything:I’vethoughtaboutyoueverydaysincethatfinalfarewellbetweenus,I’msorryfornotcontactingyou,Iwishyouhadcontactedme.Imissyou.Imissyou.

Idon’tsayanyofthis.Instead,theonlythingImanageis,“Fine.What’sup?”

Shepauses.“Oh.That’sgood.Iapologizeforthelatecall,asI’msureyou’retryingtosleep.ButtheSenateandtheElectorhaveaskedmetosendthisrequesttoyoupersonally.Iwouldn’tdoitunlessIfeltitwastrulyimportant.DenveristhrowingaballforIndependenceDay,andduringtheevent,we’llbehavinganemergencymeeting.Weneedyouinattendance.”

“Why?”GuessI’veresortedtoone-wordreplies.Forsomereason,it’sallIcanthinkofwithJune’svoiceontheline.

Sheexhales,sendingafaintburstofstaticthroughtheearpiece,andthensays,“You’veheardaboutthepeacetreatybeingdraftedbetweentheRepublicandtheColonies,right?”

“Yeah,ofcourse.”Everyoneinthecountryknowsaboutthat:ourpreciouslittleAnden’sgreatestambition,toendthewarthat’sbeengoingonforwhoknowshowlong.Andsofar,thingsseemtobegoingintherightdirection,wellenoughthatthewarfronthasbeenataquietstalemateforthepastfourmonths.Whoknewadaylikethatcouldcome,justlikehowwe’dneverexpectedtoseetheTrialstadiumssittingunusedacrossthecountry.“SeemsliketheElector’sontracktobecomingtheRepublic’shero,yeah?”

“Don’tspeaktoosoon.”June’swordsdarken,andIfeellikeIcanseeherexpressionthroughtheearpiece.“YesterdaywereceivedanangrytransmissionfromtheColonies.There’saplaguespreadingthroughtheirwarfrontcities,andtheybelieveitwascausedbysomeofthebiologicalweaponswe’dsentacrosstheirborders.They’veeventracedtheserialnumbersontheshellsoftheweaponstheybelievestartedthisplague.”

Herwordsareturningmuffledthroughtheshockinmymind,thefogthat’sbringingbackmemoriesofEdenandhisblack,bleedingeyes,ofthatboyonthetrainwhowasbeingusedasapartofthewarfare.“Doesthatmeanthepeacetreatyisoff?”Iask.

“Yes.”June’svoicefalls.“TheColoniessaytheplagueisanofficialactofwaragainstthem.”

“Andwhatdoesthishavetodowithme?”Anotherlong,ominouspause.ItfillsmewithdreadsoicycoldthatIfeel

likemyfingersareturningnumb.Theplague.It’shappening.It’sallcomefullcircle.

“I’lltellyouwhenyougethere,”Junefinallysays.“Bestnottotalkaboutitoverearpieces.”

IDESPISEMYFIRSTCONVERSATIONWITHDAYAFTEReightmonthsofnocommunication.Ihateit.WhendidIbecomesomanipulative?WhymustIalwaysusehisweaknessesagainsthim?

Lastnightat2306hours,Andencametomyapartmentcomplexandknockedonmydoor.Alone.Idon’teventhinkguardswerestationedinthehallwayforhisprotection.Itwasmyfirstwarningthatwhateverheneededtotellmehadtobeimportant—andsecret.

“Ihavetoaskafavorofyou,”hesaidasIlethimin.AndenhasalmostperfectedtheartofbeingayoungElector(calm,cool,collected,aproudchinunderstress,anevenvoicewhenangered),butthistimeIcouldseethedeepworryinhiseyes.Evenmydog,Ollie,couldtellthatAndenwastroubled,andtriedreassuringhimbypushinghiswetnoseagainstAnden’shand.

InudgedOllieawaybeforeturningbacktoAnden.“Whatisit?”Iasked.Andenranahandthroughhisdarkcurls.“Idon’tmeantodisturbyousolate

atnight,”hesaid,leaninghisheaddowntowardmineinquietconcern.“ButI’mafraidthisisnotaconversationthatcanwait.”HestoodcloseenoughsothatifIwantedto,Icouldtiltmyfaceupandaccidentallybrushmylipsagainsthis.Myheartbeatquickenedatthethought.

Andenseemedtosensethetensioninmypose,becausehetookanapologeticstepawayandgavememoreroomtobreathe.Ifeltastrangemixtureofreliefanddisappointment.“Thepeacetreatyisover,”hewhispered.“TheColoniesarepreparingtodeclarewaragainstusonceagain.”

“What?”Iwhisperedback.“Why?What’shappened?”“Wordfrommygeneralsisthatacoupleofweeksago,adeadlyvirusstarted

sweepingthroughtheColonies’warfrontlikewildfire.”Whenhesawmyeyeswideninunderstanding,henodded.Helookedsoweary,burdenedwiththeweightofanentirenation’ssafety.“ApparentlyIwastoolateinwithdrawingourbiologicalweaponsfromthewarfront.”

Eden.TheexperimentalvirusesthatAnden’sfatherhadusedinattemptstocauseaplagueintheColonies.Formonths,I’dtriedtopushthattothebackofmymind—afterall,Edenwassafenow,underthecareofDayand,lastIheard,slowlyadjustingtosemblancesofanormallife.Forthelastfewmonths,thewarfronthadstoodsilentwhileAndenattemptedtohashoutapeacetreatywiththeColonies.I’dthoughtthatwewouldbelucky,thatnothingwouldcomeoutofthatbiologicalwarfare.Wishfulthinking.

“DotheSenatorsknow?”Iaskedafterawhile.“OrtheotherPrinceps-Elects?Whyareyoutellingmethis?I’mhardlyyourclosestadvisor.”

Andensighedandsqueezedthebridgeofhisnose.“Forgiveme.IwishIdidn’thavetoinvolveyouinthis.TheColoniesbelievethatwehavethecuretothisvirusinourlaboratoriesandaresimplywithholdingit.Theydemandweshareit,orelsetheyputalloftheirstrengthbehindafull-scaleinvasionoftheRepublic.Andthistime,itwon’tbeareturntoouroldwar.TheColonieshavesecuredanally.TheystruckatradedealwithAfrica—theColoniesgetmilitaryhelp,andinreturn,Africagetshalfourland.”

Afeelingofforebodingcreptoverme.Evenwithouthimsayingit,Icouldtellwherethiswasgoing.“Wedon’thaveacure,dowe?”

“No.Butwedoknowwhichformerpatientshavethepotentialtohelpusfindthatcure.”

Istartedshakingmyhead.WhenAndenreachedouttotouchmyelbow,Ijerkedaway.“Absolutelynot,”Isaid.“Youcan’taskthisofme.Iwon’tdoit.”

Andenlookedpained.“IhavecalledforaprivatebanquettomorrownighttogatherallofourSenators.WehavenochoiceifwewanttoputastoptothisandfindawaytosecurepeacewiththeColonies.”Histonegrewfirmer.“YouknowthisaswellasIdo.Iwanthimtoattendthisbanquetandhearusout.Weneedhispermissionifwe’regoingtogettoEden.”

He’sserious,Irealizedinshock.“You’llnevergethimtodoit.Yourealizethat,don’tyou?Thecountry’ssupportforyouisstillsoft,andDay’salliancewithyouishesitantatbest.Whatdoyouthinkhe’llsaytothis?Whatifyouangerhimenoughforhimtocallthepeopletoaction,totellthemtorebelagainstyou?Orworse—whatifheasksthemtosupporttheColonies?”

“Iknow.I’vethoughtthroughallofthis.”Andenrubbedhistemplesinexhaustion.“Iftherewasabetteroption,I’dtakeit.”

“Soyouwantmetomakehimagreetothis,”Iadded.Myirritationwastoostrongtobotherhiding.“Iwon’tdoit.GettheotherSenatorstoconvinceDay,ortryconvincinghimyourself.OrfindawaytoapologizetotheColonies’

Chancellor—askhimtonegotiatenewterms.”“YouareDay’sweakness,June.He’lllistentoyou.”Andenwincedevenas

hesaidthis,asifhedidn’twanttoadmitit.“Iknowhowthismakesmesound.Idon’twanttobecruel—Idon’twantDaytoseeusastheenemy.ButIwilldowhatittakestoprotecttheRepublic’speople.Otherwise,theColonieswillattack,andifthathappens,youknowit’slikelytheviruswillspreadhereaswell.”

Itwasworsethanthat,eventhoughAndendidn’tsayitaloud.IftheColoniesattackuswithAfricaattheirside,thenourmilitarymightnotbestrongenoughtoholdthemback.Thistime,theymightwin.He’lllistentoyou.Iclosedmyeyesandbowedmyhead.Ididn’twanttoadmitit,butIknewthatAndenwasright.

SoIdidasherequested.IcalledDayandaskedhimtoreturntothecapital.Justthethoughtofseeinghimagainleavesmyheartpounding,achingfromhisabsenceinmylifeoverthesepastmonths.Ihaven’tseenorspokentohimforsolong...andthisisgoingtobehowwereunite?Whatwillhethinkofmenow?

WhatwillhethinkoftheRepublicwhenhefindsoutwhattheywantwithhislittlebrother?

1201HOURS.DENVERCOUNTYCOURTOFFEDERALCRIME.72°FINDOORS.SIXHOURSUNTILISEEDAYATTHEEVENINGBALL.289DAYSAND12HOURSSINCEMETIAS’SDEATH.

ThomasandCommanderJamesonareontrialtoday.I’msotiredoftrials.Inthepastfourmonths,adozenformerSenatorshave

beentriedandconvictedofparticipatingintheplantoassassinateAnden,theplanthatDayandIhadbarelymanagedtostop.ThoseSenatorshaveallbeenexecuted.Razorhasalreadybeenexecuted.SometimesIfeellikesomeonenewisconvictedeachweek.

Buttoday’strialisdifferent.Iknowexactlywhoisbeingsentencedtoday,andwhy.

Isitinabalconyoverlookingthecourtroom’sroundstage,myhandsrestlessintheirwhitesilkgloves,mybodyconstantlyshiftinginmyvestandblackruffledcoat,mybootsquietlytappingagainstthebalconypillars.Mychairis

madeoutofsyntheticoakandcushionedwithsoft,scarletvelvet,butsomehowIjustcan’tmakemyselfcomfortable.Tokeepmyselfcalmandoccupied,I’mcarefullyentwiningfourstraightenedpaperclipsinmylaptoformasmallring.Twoguardsstandbehindme.Threecircularrowsofthecountry’stwenty-sixSenatorssurroundthestage,uniformintheirmatchingscarlet-and-blacksuits,theirsilverepaulettesreflectingthechamber’slight,theirvoicesechoingalongthearchedceilings.Theysoundlargelyindifferent,asifthey’remeetingabouttraderoutesinsteadofpeople’sfates.ManyarenewfacesthathavereplacedthetraitorSenators,whoAndenhasalreadycleanedout.I’mtheonewhosticksoutwithmyblack-and-goldoutfit(eventheseventy-sixsoldiersstandingguardherearecladinscarlet;twoforeachSenator,twoforme,twoforeachoftheotherPrinceps-Elects,fourforAnden,andfourteenatthechamber’sfrontandbackentrances,whichmeansthedefendants—ThomasandCommanderJameson—areconsideredfairlyhighriskandcouldpossiblymakeasuddenmove).

I’mnoSenator,clearly.IamaPrinceps-Electandneedtobedistinguishedassuch.

Twoothersinthechamberwearthesameblack-and-golduniformthatIdo.Myeyeswanderovertothemnow,wheretheysitonotherbalconies.AfterAndentappedmetotrainforthePrincepsposition,Congressurgedhimtoselectseveralothers.Afterall,youcannothaveonlyonepersonpreparingtobecometheleaderoftheSenate,especiallywhenthatpersonisasixteen-year-oldgirlwithoutashredofpoliticalexperience.SoAndenagreed.HepickedouttwomorePrinceps-Elects,bothofthemalreadySenators.OneisnamedMarianaDupree.Mygazesettlesonher,hernoseturnedupandhereyesheavywithsternness.Thirty-sevenyearsold,Senatorfortenyears.Shehatedmetheinstantshelaideyesonme.IlookawayfromherandtowardthebalconywherethesecondPrinceps-Electsits.SergeCarmichael,ajumpythirty-two-year-oldSenatorandgreatpoliticalmind,whowastednotimeshowingmethathedoesn’tappreciatemyyouthandinexperience.

SergeandMariana.MytworivalsforthePrincepstitle.Ifeelexhaustedjustthinkingaboutit.

Onabalconyseveraldozenyardsaway,sittingflankedbyhisguards,Andenseemscalm,reviewingsomethingwithoneofthesoldiers.He’swearingahandsomegraymilitarycoatwithbrightsilverbuttons,silverepaulettes,andsilversleeveinsignias.Heoccasionallyglancesdowntowardtheprisonersstandinginthechamber’scircle.Iwatchhimforamoment,admiringhisappearanceofcalm.

ThomasandCommanderJamesonaregoingtoreceivetheirsentencesforcrimesagainstthenation.

Thomaslookstidierthanusual—ifthat’spossible.Hishairisslickedback,andIcantellthathemust’veemptiedanentirecanofshoepolishontoeachofhisboots.HestandsatattentioninthecenterofthechamberandstaresstraightaheadwithanintensitythatwouldmakeanyRepubliccommanderproud.Iwonderwhat’sgoingthroughhismind.Ishepicturingthatnightinthehospitalalley,whenhemurderedmybrother?IshethinkingofthemanyconversationshehadwithMetias,themomentswhenhehadtakendownhisguard?OrthefatefulnightwhenhehadchosentobetrayMetiasinsteadofhelphim?

CommanderJameson,ontheotherhand,looksslightlydisheveled.Hercold,emotionlesseyesarefixedonme.Shehasbeenwatchingmeunflinchinglyforthepasttwelveminutes.Istarebackforamoment,tryingtoseesomehintofasoulinhereyes,butnothingexiststhereexceptforanicyhatred,anabsolutelackofconscience.

Ilookaway,takedeep,slowbreaths,andtrytofocusonsomethingelse.MythoughtsreturntoDay.

It’sbeen241dayssincehevisitedmyapartmentandbidmegood-bye.SometimesIwishDaycouldholdmeinhisarmsagainandkissmethewayhedidonthatlastnight,soclosethatwecouldbarelybreathe,hislipssoftagainstmine.ButthenItakebackthatwish.Thethoughtisuseless.Itremindsmeofloss,justlikehowsittinghereandlookingdownonthepeoplewhokilledmyfamilyremindsmeofallthethingsIusedtohave;itremindsmetooofmyguilt,ofallthethingsDayusedtohavethatItookfromhim.

Besides,Daywillprobablyneverwanttokissmeagain.NotafterhefindsoutwhyI’veaskedhimtoreturntoDenver.

Anden’slookinginmydirectionnow.WhenIcatchhisgaze,henodsonce,excuseshimselffromhisbalcony,andaminutelaterhestepsintomybalcony.Iriseand,alongwithmyguards,snaptoasalute.Andenwavesahandimpatiently.“Sit,please,”hesays.WhenI’verelaxedbackintomychair,hebendsdowntomyeyelevelandadds,“Howareyouholdingup,June?”

Ifighttheblushasitspreadsacrossmycheeks.AftereightmonthswithoutDayinmylife,IfindmyselfsmilingatAnden,enjoyingtheattention,occasionallyevenhopingforit.“Doingfine,thanks.I’vebeenlookingforwardtothisday.”

“Ofcourse.”Andennods.“Don’tworry—itwon’tbelongbeforebothofthemareoutofyourlifeforever.”Hegivesmyshoulderareassuringsqueeze.

Thenheleavesasswiftlyashearrived,vanishingwiththefaintclinkofmedalsandepaulettes,thenreappearingmomentslaterinhisownbalcony.

Iliftmyheadinavainattemptatbravery,knowingthatCommanderJameson’sicyeyesmuststillbeuponme.AseachoftheSenatorsrisestocastaloudhisvoteonherverdict,IholdmybreathandcarefullypushawayeachmemoryIhaveofhereyesstaringmedown,foldingthemintoaneatcompartmentatthebackofmymind.Thevotingseemstotakeforever,eventhoughtheSenatorsareallquicktosaywhattheythinkwillpleasetheElector.NoonehasthecouragetoriskcrossingAndenafterwatchingsomanyothersconvictedandexecuted.Bythetimemyturncomes,mythroatisparched.Iswallowafewtimes,thenspeakup.

“Guilty,”Isay,myvoiceclearandcalm.SergeandMarianacasttheirvotesafterme.Werunthroughanotherroundof

votingforThomas,andthenwe’redone.Threeminuteslater,aman(bald,witharound,wrinkledfaceandscarletfloor-lengthrobeshe’sclutchingwithhislefthand)hurriesintoAnden’sbalconyandgiveshimarushedbow.Andenleanstowardthemanandwhispersinhisear.Iwatchtheirinteractioninquietcuriosity,wonderingwhetherIcanpredictthefinalverdictbytheirgestures.Afterashortdeliberation,Andenandthemessengerbothnod.Thenthemessengerraiseshisvoicetotheentireassembly.

“WearenowreadytoannouncetheverdictsforCaptainThomasAlexanderBryantandCommanderNatashaJamesonofLosAngelesCityPatrolEight.AllriseforthegloriousElector!”

TheSenatorsandIstandwithauniformclatter,whileCommanderJamesonsimplyturnstofaceAndenwithalookofutterdisdain.ThomassnapstoasharpsaluteinAnden’sdirection.HeholdsthepositionasAndenstandsup,straightens,andputshishandsbehindhisback.There’samomentofsilenceaswewaitforhisfinalverdict,theonevotethatreallymatters.Ifightbackarisingurgetocough.MyeyesdartinstinctivelytotheotherPrinceps-Elects,somethingInowdoallthetime;Marianahasasatisfiedfrownonherface,whileSergejustlooksbored.OneofmyfistsclenchestightlyaroundthepaperclipringI’mworkingon.Ialreadyknowitwillleavedeepgroovesinmypalm.

“TheSenatorsoftheRepublichavesubmittedtheirindividualverdicts,”Andenannouncestothecourtroom,hiswordsbearingalltheformalityofatraditions-oldspeech.Imarvelatthewayhisvoicecansoundsosoft,yetcarrysowellatthesametime.“Ihavetakentheirjointdecisionintoaccount,andnowIgivemyown.”Andenpausestoturnhiseyesdowntowardwherebothofthem

arewaiting.Thomasisstillinfullsalute,stillstaringintentlyattheemptyairinfrontofhim.“CaptainThomasAlexanderBryantofLosAngelesCityPatrolEight,”hesays,“theRepublicofAmericafindsyouguilty...”

Theroomstayssilent.Ifighttokeepmybreathingeven.Thinkaboutsomething.Anything.WhataboutallthepoliticalbooksI’vebeenreadingthisweek?ItrytorecitesomeofthefactsI’velearned,butsuddenlyIcan’trememberanyofit.Mostuncharacteristic.

“...ofthedeathofCaptainMetiasIparisonthenightofNovemberthirtieth—ofthedeathofcivilianGraceWingwithoutthewarrantsnecessaryforexecution—ofthesingle-handedexecutionoftwelveprotestersinBatallaSquareontheafternoonof—”

Hisvoicecomesinandoutoftheblurofnoiseinmyhead.Ileanahandagainstmychair’sarmrest,letoutaslowbreath,andtrytopreventmyselffromswaying.Guilty.ThomashasbeenfoundguiltyofkillingbothmybrotherandDay’smother.Myhandsshake.

“—andtherebysentencedtodeathbyfiringsquadtwodaysfromtoday,atseventeenhundredhours.CommanderNatashaJamesonofLosAngelesCityPatrolEight,theRepublicofAmericafindsyouguilty...”

Anden’svoicefadesawayintoadull,unrecognizablehum.Everythingaroundmeseemssoslow,asifI’mlivingtooquicklyforitallandleavingtheworldbehind.

AyearagoI’dbeenstandingoutsideBatallaHallonadifferentsortofcourtstage,lookingonwithahugecrowdasajudgegaveDaytheexactsamesentence.NowDayisalive,andaRepubliccelebrity.Iopenmyeyesagain.CommanderJameson’slipsaresetinatightlineasAndenreadsoutherdeathpenalty.Thomaslooksexpressionless.Isheexpressionless?I’mtoofarawaytotell,buthiseyebrowsseemfurrowedintoastrangesortoftragedy.Ishouldfeelgoodaboutthis,Iremindmyself.BothDayandIshouldberejoicing.ThomaskilledMetias.HeshotDay’smotherincoldblood,withoutasecond’shesitation.

ButnowthecourtroomfallsawayandallIcanseearememoriesofThomasasateenager,backwhenheandMetiasandIusedtoeatporkedameinsideawarmfirst-floorstreetstand,withtherainpouringdownallaroundus.IrememberThomasshowingoffhisfirstassignedguntome.IevenrememberthetimeMetiasbroughtmetohisafternoondrills.IwastwelveandhadjustbegunmycoursesatDrakeforaweek—howinnocenteverythingseemedbackthen.Metiaspickedmeupaftermyclassesthatafternoon,rightontime,andweheadedovertotheTanagashisector,wherehewasrunninghispatrolthrough

drills.Icanstillfeelthewarmthofthesunbeatingdownonmyhair,stillseetheswooshofMetias’sblackhalfcape,thegleamofhissilverepaulettes,andstillhearthesharpclicksofhisshiningbootsonthecement.WhileIsettleddownonacornerbenchandturnedmycomponto(pretendto)dosomeadvancereading,Metiaslineduphissoldiersforinspection.Hepausedbeforeeachsoldiertopointoutflawsintheiruniforms.

“CadetRin,”hebarkedatoneofthenewersoldiers.Thesoldierjumpedatthesteelinmybrother’svoice,thenhungherheadinshameasMetiastappedthelonemedalpinnedonthecadet’scoat.“IfIworemymedallikethis,CommanderJamesonwouldstripmeofmytitle.Doyouwanttoberemovedfromthispatrol,soldier?”

“N-no,sir,”thecadetstammered.Metiaskepthisglovedhandstuckedbehindhisbackandmovedon.He

criticizedthreemoresoldiersbeforehereachedThomas,whostoodatattentionneartheendoftheline.Metiaslookedoverhisuniformwithastern,carefuleye.Ofcourse,Thomas’soutfitwasabsolutelyspotless—notasinglethreadoutofplace,everymedalandepaulettegroovepolishedtoabrightshine,bootssoflawlessthatIcouldprobablyseemyreflectioninthem.Alongpause.Iputmycompdownandleanedforwardtowatchmoreclosely.Finally,mybrothernodded.“Welldone,soldier,”hesaidtoThomas.“Keepupthegoodwork,andI’llseethatCommanderJamesonpromotesyoubeforetheendofthisyear.”

Thomas’sexpressionneverchanged,butIsawhimlifthischinwithpride.“Thankyou,sir,”hereplied.Metias’seyeslingeredonhimforasecond,andthenhemovedon.

Whenhefinallyfinishedinspectingeveryone,mybrotherturnedtofacehisentirepatrol.“Adisappointinginspection,soldiers,”hecalledouttothem.“You’reundermywatchnow,andthatmeansyou’reunderCommanderJameson’swatch.Sheexpectsahighercaliberfromthislot,soyou’ddowelltotryharder.Understood?”

Sharpsalutesansweredhim.“Yes,sir!”Metias’seyesreturnedtoThomas.Isawrespectonmybrother’sface,even

admiration.“IfeachofyoupaidattentiontodetailthewayCadetBryantdoes,we’dbethegreatestpatrolinthecountry.Lethimserveasanexampletoyouall.”Hejoinedtheminafinalsalute.“LonglivetheRepublic!”Thecadetsechoedhiminunison.

Thememoryslowlyfadesfrommythoughts,andMetias’sclearvoiceturnsintoaghost’swhisper,leavingmeweakandexhaustedinmysadness.

MetiashadalwaystalkedaboutThomas’sfixationonbeingtheperfectsoldier.IremembertheblinddevotionThomasgavetoCommanderJameson,thesameblinddevotionhenowgivestohisnewElector.ThenIseeThomasandmesittingacrossfromeachotherinaninterrogationroom—Iremembertheanguishinhiseyes.Howhe’dtoldmethathewantedtoprotectme.Whathappenedtothatshy,awkwardboyfromLosAngeles’spoorsectors,theboywhousedtotrainwithMetiaseveryafternoon?SomethingblursmyvisionandIquicklywipeahandacrossmyeyes.

Icouldbecompassionate.IcouldaskAndentosparehislifeandlethimliveouthisyearsinprison,andgivehimachancetoredeemhimself.ButinsteadIjuststandtherewithmyclosedlipsandunwaveringposture,myhearthardasstone.Metiaswouldbemoremercifulinmyposition.

ButIwasneverasgoodapersonasmybrother.“ThisconcludesthetrialforCaptainThomasAlexanderBryantand

CommanderNatashaJameson,”Andenfinishes.HeholdsahandoutinThomas’sdirectionandnodsonce.“Captain,doyouhaveanywordsfortheSenate?”

Thomasdoesn’tflinchintheslightest,doesn’tshowasinglehintoffearorremorseorangeronhisface.Iwatchhimclosely.Afteraheartbeat,heturnshiseyesuptowhereAndenstands,thenbowslow.“MygloriousElector,”herepliesinaclear,unwaveringvoice.“IhavedisgracedtheRepublicbyactinginawaythathasbothdispleasedanddisappointedyou.Ihumblyacceptmyverdict.”Herisesfromhisbow,thenreturnstohissalute.“LonglivetheRepublic.”

HeglancesupatmewhentheSenatorsallvoicetheiragreementwithAnden’sfinalverdict.Foraninstant,oureyesmeet.ThenIlookdown.Afterawhile,Ilookbackupandhe’sstaringstraightaheadagain.

AndenturnshisattentiontoCommanderJameson.“Commander,”hesays,extendinghisglovedhandinherdirection.Hischinliftsinaregalgesture.“DoyouhaveanywordsfortheSenate?”

Shedoesn’tflinchfromlookingattheyoungElector.Hereyesarecold,darkslates.Afterapause,shefinallynods.“Yes,Elector,”shesays,hertoneharshandmocking,astarkcontrasttoThomas’s.TheSenatorsandsoldiersshiftuneasily,butAndenraisesahandforsilence.“Idohavesomewordsforyou.Iwasnotthefirsttohopeforyourdeath,andIwon’tbethelast.YouaretheElector,butyouarestilljustaboy.Youdon’tknowwhoyouare.”Shenarrowshereyes...andsmiles.“ButIknow.Ihaveseenfarmorethanyouhave—I’vedrainedthebloodfromprisonerstwiceyourage,I’vekilledmenwithtwiceyour

strength,I’veleftprisonersshakingintheirbrokenbodieswhoprobablyhavetwiceyourcourage.Youthinkyou’rethiscountry’ssavior,don’tyou?ButIknowbetter.You’rejustyourfather’sboy,andlikefather,likeson.Hefailed,andsowillyou.”Hersmilewidens,butitnevertoucheshereyes.“Thiscountrywillgodowninflameswithyouatthehelm,andmyghostwillbelaughingatyouallthewayfromhell.”

Anden’sexpressionneverchanges.Hiseyesstayclearandunafraid,andinthismoment,Iamdrawntohimlikeabirdtoanopensky.Hemeetsherstarecoolly.“Thisconcludestoday’strial,”hereplies,hisvoiceechoingthroughoutthechamber.“Commander,Isuggestyousaveyourthreatsforthefiringsquad.”Thenhefoldshishandsbehindhisbackandnodsathissoldiers.“Removethemfrommysight.”

Idon’tknowhowAndencanshowsolittlefearinfrontofCommanderJameson.Ienvyit.BecauseasIwatchthesoldiersleadheraway,allIcanfeelisadeep,ice-coldpitofterror.Likeshe’snotdonewithusyet.Likeshe’swarningustowatchourbacks.

WETOUCHDOWNINDENVERONTHEMORNINGOFTHEEMERGENCYbanquet.Eventhewordsthemselvesmakemewanttolaugh:emergencybanquet?Tome,abanquetstillmeansafeast,andIdon’tseehowanyemergencyshouldbecauseforagoddymountainoffood,evenifitisforIndependenceDay.IsthathowtheseSenatorsdealwithcrises—bystuffingtheirfatfaces?

AfterEdenandIsettleintoatemporarygovernmentapartmentandEdendozesoff,exhaustedfromourearlymorningflight,IreluctantlyleavehimwithLucyinordertomeettheassistantassignedtoprepmefortonight’sevent.

“Ifanyonetriestoseehim,”IwhispertoLucyasEdensleeps,“foranyreason,pleasecallme.Ifanyonewants—”

Lucy,usedtomyparanoia,hushesmewithawaveofherhand.“Letmeputyourmindatease,Mr.Wing,”shereplies.Shepatsmycheek.“NoonewillseeEdenwhileyou’regone.Ipromise.I’llcallyouinaninstantifanythinghappens.”

Inod.MyeyeslingeronEdenasifhe’lldisappearifIblink.“Thanks.”Toattendaneventthisfancy,Ineedtodressthepart—andtodressthe

part,theRepublicassignsaSenator’sdaughtertotakemethroughthedowntowndistrict,wherethecity’smainshoppingareasareclustered.Shemeetsmerightwherethetrainstopsinthecenterofthedistrict.There’snomistakingwhosheis—she’sdeckedoutinastylishuniformfromheadtotoe,herlightbrowneyessetagainstdarkbrownskinandthickblackcurlsofhairtiedupintoaknottedbraid.Whensherecognizesme,sheflashesmeasmile.Icatchherlookingmeover,asifalreadycritiquingmyoutfit.“YoumustbeDay,”shesays,takingmyhand.“MynameisFalineFedelma,andtheElectorhasassignedmetobeyourguide.”Shepausestoraiseaneyebrowatmyclothes.“Wehavesomeworktodo.”

Ilookdownatmyoutfit.Trouserstuckedintoscuffed-upboots,a

rumpledcollarshirt,andanoldscarf.Would’vebeenconsideredluxuriousonthestreets.“Gladyouapprove,”Ireply.ButFalinejustlaughsandloopsanarmthroughmine.

Assheleadsmetoagovernmentclothingstreetthatspecializesineveningwear,Itakeinthecrowdsofpeoplerushingaroundus.Well-dressed,upper-classfolks.Atrioofstudentspass,gigglingaboutsomethingorother,dressedinpristinemilitaryuniformsandpolishedboots.Asweroundacornerandstepinsideashop,Irealizethatsoldiersarestandingguardupanddownthestreet.Alotofsoldiers.

“Arethereusuallythismanyguardsdowntown?”IaskFaline.Shejustshrugsandholdsupanoutfitagainstme,butIcanseethe

uneaseinhereyes.“No,”shereplies,“notreally.ButI’msureit’snothingforyoutoworryabout.”

Iletitdrop,butapulseofanxietyrushesthroughmymind.Denver’sbeefingupitsdefenses.Junehasn’texplainedwhysheneededmetoattendthisbanquetsobadly,badlyenoughtocontactmeherselfaftersomanymonthsofnoword.Whatthehellwouldsheneedfromme?WhatdoestheRepublicwantthistime?

IftheRepublicreallyisgoingbacktowar,thenmaybeIshouldfindawaytogetEdenoutofthecountry.Wehavethepowertoleavenow,afterall.Don’tknowwhat’skeepingmehere.

Hourslater,afterthesunhassetandfireworksfortheElector’sbirthdayhavealreadystartedgoingoffinrandompartsofthecity,ajeeptakesmefromourapartmenttowardColburnHall.Ipeerimpatientlyoutthewindow.Peopletravelupanddownthesidewalksindenseclusters.Tonighteachofthemisdressedinveryspecificclothing—mostlyred,withhintsofgoldmakeupandRepublicsealsstampedprominentlyhereandthere,onthebackofwhiteglovesoronthesleevesofmilitarycoats.IwonderhowmanyofthesefolksagreewiththeAndenisoursaviorgraffitiandhowmanysidewiththeAndenisahoaxmessage.Troopsmarchupanddownthestreets.AlltheJumboTronshaveimagesofenormousRepublicsealsondisplay,followedbylivefootagestreamingfromthefestivitieshappeninginsideColburnHall.ToAnden’scredit,there’sbeenasteadydeclineinRepublicpropagandalatelyontheJumboTrons.Stillnonewsabouttheoutsideworld,though.Guessyoucan’thaveeverything.

BythetimewereachthecobbledstepsofColburnHall,thestreetsareamessofcelebrations,throngsofpeople,andunsmilingguards.The

onlookersletoutahugecheerwhentheyseemestepoutofthejeep,aroarthatshakesmybonesandsendsaspasmofpainthroughthebackofmyhead.Iwavehesitantlyback.

Faline’swaitingformeatthebottomofthestepsthatleaduptoColburnHall.Thistimeshe’scladinagolddress,andgolddustshimmersonhereyelids.WeexchangebowsbeforeIfollowbehindher,lookingonasshemotionsforotherstoclearapath.“Youcleanupnicely,”shesays.“Someone’sgoingtobeverypleasedtoseeyou.”

“Idon’tthinktheElectorwillbeasexcitedasyouthink.”Shesmilesatmeoverhershoulder.“Iwasn’ttalkingabouttheElector.”Myheartjumpsatthat.Wemakeourwaythroughtheshoutingmob.Icranemyneckandstare

attheelaboratebeautyofColburnHall.Everythingglitters.TonightthepillarsareeachadornedwithtallscarletbannersdisplayingtheRepublicseal,andhangingrightinthemiddleofthepillarsandabovethehall’sentranceisthelargestportraitI’veeverseen.Anden’sgiantface.Falineguidesmedownthecorridor,whereSenatorsarecarryingonrandomconversationsandotherelitegueststalkandlaughwithoneanotherlikeeverythinginthecountryisgoinggreat.Butbehindtheircheerfulmasksaresignsofnervousness,flickeringeyes,andfurrowedbrows.They’vegottasensetheunusualnumberofsoldiersheretoo.Itrytomimictheproper,precisewaytheyhaveofwalkingandtalking,butstopwhenFalinenoticesmedoingit.

Wewanderthelush,opensettingofColburnHallforseveralminutes,lostintheseaofpoliticians.Thetasselsofmyepaulettesclinktogether.I’mlookingforher,eventhoughIdon’tknowwhatI’llsaywhen—if—Ifindher.HowwillIevencatchaglimpseofherinthemiddleofallthisgoddyluxury?Whereverweturn,Iseeanotherflurryofcolorfulgownsandpolishedsuits,fountainsandpianos,waiterscarryingskinnyglassesofchampagne,fancypeoplewearingtheirfakesmiles.Ifeelasuddensenseofclaustrophobia.

WhereamI?WhatamIdoinghere?Asifoncue,theinstantIaskmyselfthesequestionsistheinstantI

finallyseeher.Somehow,inthemidstofthesearistocratswhoblendintooneblurryportrait,myeyescatchhersilhouetteandpause.June.Thenoisearoundmefadesintoadullhum,quietanduninteresting,andallofmyattentionturnshelplesslytothegirlIthoughtI’dbeabletoface.

She’sdressedinafloor-lengthgownofdeepscarlet,andherthick,shininghairispiledhighonherheadindarkwaves,pinnedintoplacewithred,gem-studdedcombsthatcatchthelight.She’sthemostbeautifulgirlI’veeverseen,easilythemostbreathtakinggirlintheroom.She’sgrowntallerintheeightmonthssinceI’veseenher,andthewaysheholdsherself—poisedandgraceful,withherslender,swanlikeneckandherdeep,darkeyes—istheimageofperfection.

Almostperfection.Atcloserlook,Inoticesomethingthatmakesmefrown.There’sanairofrestraintabouther,somethinguncertainandunconfident.NotliketheJuneIknow.Asifpowerlessagainstthesight,IfindmyselfguidingbothFalineandmetowardher.Ionlystopwhenthepeoplearoundhermoveapart,revealingthemanstandingatherside.

It’sAnden.Ofcourse,Ishouldn’tbesurprised.Offtotheside,severalwell-dressedgirlsaretryinginvaintocatchhisattention,butheseemsfocusedonlyonJune.Iwatchasheleansintowhispersomethinginherear,thencontinueshisrelaxedconversationwithherandseveralothers.

WhenIturnsilentlyaway,Falinefrownsatmysuddenshift.“Areyouokay?”sheasks.

Iattemptareassuringsmile.“Oh,absolutely.Don’tworry.”Ifeelsooutofplaceamongthesearistocrats,withtheirbankaccountsandposhmanners.NomatterhowmuchmoneytheRepublicthrowsatme,Iwillforeverbetheboyfromthestreets.

AndI’dforgottenthataboyfromthestreetsisnomatchforthefuturePrinceps.

1935HOURS.COLBURNHALL,MAINBALLROOM.68°F.

ITHINKISEEDAYINTHECROWD.AFLASHOFWHITE-GOLDHAIR,ofbrightblueeyes.MyattentionsuddenlybreaksfrommyconversationwithAndenandtheotherPrinceps-Elects,andIcranemyneck,hopingtogetabetterlook—buthe’sgoneagain,ifhewaseverthere.Disappointed,Ireturnmygazetotheothersandgivethemmywell-rehearsedsmile.WillDayshowuptonight?SurelyAnden’smenwouldhavealertedusifDayhadrefusedtogetontheprivatejetsentforhimthismorning.Buthe’dsoundedsodistantandawkwardoverthemikethatnight,perhapshejustdecideditwasn’tworthcomingouthereafterall.Maybehehatesme,nowthatwe’vehadenoughtimeapartforhimtothinkclearlyaboutourfriendship.IscanthecrowdagainwhentheotherPrinceps-ElectsarelaughingatAnden’sjokes.

AfeelinginmystomachtellsmeDaywillbehere.ButIamhardlyapersonwhoreliesongutinstinct.Iabsentlytouchthejewelsinmyhair,makingsurethey’reallstillintherightplaces.They’renotthemostcomfortablethingsI’veeverworn,butthehairdresserhadgaspedathowtherubiesstoodoutagainstmydarklocks,andthatreactionwasenoughformetothinkthey’reworththetrouble.I’mnotsurewhyIbotheredtolooksonicefortonight.ItisIndependenceDay,Isuppose,andtheoccasionisalargeone.

“MissIparisisasprecociousasweallassumedshewouldbe,”Anden’ssayingtotheSenatorsnow,turninghissmileonme.Hisapparenthappinessisallforshow,ofcourse.I’veshadowedAndenforlongenoughnowtoknowwhenheistense,andtonightthenervousnessreflectsoffeverygesturehemakes.I’mnervoustoo.Amonthfromnow,theRepublicmighthaveColoniesflagsflyingoverhercities.“Hertutorssaythey’veneverseenastudentprogresssorapidlythroughherpoliticaltexts.”

“Thankyou,Elector,”Ireplyautomaticallytohiscompliment.TheSenatorsbothchuckle,butunderneaththeirjollyexpressionsliesthelingeringresentmenttheyhaveagainstme,thischildwhohasbeentappedbytheElectortopotentiallybecometheirleaderoneday.Marianagivesmeadiplomatic,albeitstern,nod,butSergedoesn’tlooktoopleasedwiththewayAndensinglesmeout.IignorethedarkscowlthattheSenatorcastsinmydirection.Hisscowlsusedtobotherme—nowI’mjusttiredofthem.

“Ah,well.”SenatorTanakaofCaliforniatugsonthecollarofhismilitaryjacketandexchangesalookwithhiswife.“That’swonderfulnews,Elector.Ofcourse,I’msurethetutorsalsoknowhowmuchofaSenator’sjobislearnedoutsideoftextsandfromyearsofexperienceintheSenatechamber.LikeourdearSenatorCarmichaelhere.”HepausestonodgraciouslyatSerge,whopuffsup.

Andenwavesoffhisconcern.“Ofcourse,”heechoes.“Allingoodtime,Senator.”

Besideme,Marianasighs,leansover,andtiltsherchinatSerge.“Ifyoustareathisheadlongenough,itmightsproutwingsandtakeflight,”shemutters.

Ismileatthat.Theysteeroffthetopicofmeandontothetopicofhowtobettersort

studentsintohighschoolsnowthattheTrialsarediscontinued.Thepoliticalchattergratesonmynerves.IstartscanningthecrowdagainforDay.Aftermorefutilesearching,IfinallyputahandonAnden’sarmandleanovertowhisper,“Excuseme.I’llberightback.”Henodsinreturn.WhenIturnawayandstartblendinginwiththecrowd,Icanfeelhisstarelingeringonme.

Ispendseveralminuteswalkingtheballroominvain,greetingvariousSenatorsandtheirfamiliesasIgo.WhereisDay?Itrytohearsnatchesofconversations,ornoticewhereclustersofpeoplemightbegathering.Dayisacelebrity.Hemustbeattractingattentionifhealreadyarrived.I’mabouttomakemywayacrosstheotherhalfoftheballroomwhenI’minterruptedbytheloudspeakers.Thepledge.Isigh,thenturnbacktowhereAndenhasalreadytakenhisplaceonthefrontstage,flankedonbothsidesbysoldiersholdingupRepublicflags.

“IpledgeallegiancetotheflagoftheRepublicofAmerica...”Day.Thereheis.He’sstandingaboutfiftyfeetaway,hisbackpartiallyturnedtomesothatI

canonlyseeatinysliverofhisprofile,hishairlooseandthickandperfectlystraight,andonhisarmisagirlinashininggolddress.WhenIobservehim

moreclosely,Inoticethathismouthisn’tmovingatall.Hestayssilentthroughouttheentirepledge.IturnmyattentionbacktothefrontasapplausefillsthechamberandAndenbeginshispreparedspeech.Fromthecornerofmyeye,IseeDayturntolookoverhisshoulder.Myhandstrembleatthismomentaryglimpseofhisface—haveIreallyforgottenhowbeautifulheis,howhiseyesreflectsomethingwildanduntamed,freeeveninthemidstofallthisorderandelegance?

Whenthespeechends,IheadstraightinDay’sdirection.He’sdressedinaperfectlytailoredblackmilitaryjacketandsuit.Ishealsothinner?HelookstohavelostagoodtenpoundssincethelasttimeIsawhim.He’sbeenillrecently.AsIgetcloser,Daycatchessightofmeandpausesinhisconversationwithhisdate.Hiseyeswidenalittle.Icanfeeltheheatrisingonmycheeks,butforceitdown.Thiswillbeourfirstface-to-facemeetinginmonths,andIrefusetomakeafoolofmyself.

Istopafewfeetaway.Myeyeswandertohisdate,agirlwhomIrecognizeasFaline,theeighteen-year-olddaughterofSenatorFedelma.

FalineandIexchangeaquicknod.Shegrins.“Hi,June,”shesays.“Youlookgorgeoustonight.”

Shemakesagenuinesmileescapefromme,areliefafterallthepracticedsmilesI’vebeengivingtheotherPrinceps-Elects.“Sodoyou,”Ireply.

Falinedoesn’twasteasingleawkwardsecond—shecatchestheslightblushonmycheeksandcurtsiestobothofus.Thensheheadsbackintothecrowd,leavingDayandmealoneintheseaofpeople.

Forasecond,wejuststareateachother.Ibreakthesilencebeforeitstretchesonfortoolong.“Hi,”Isay.Itakeinhisface,refreshingmymemorywitheverylittledetail.“It’sgoodtoseeyou.”

Daysmilesbackandbows,buthiseyesneverleaveme.Thewayhestaressendsriversofheatracingthroughmychest.“Thanksfortheinvite.”Hearinghisvoiceinpersonagain...Itakeadeepbreath,remindingmyselfofwhyIinvitedhimhere.Hiseyesdanceacrossmyfaceandtomydress—heseemsreadytocommentonit,butthendecidesagainstitandwaveshishandattheroom.“Nicelittlepartyyouhavehere.”

“It’sneverquiteasfunasitlooks,”Ireplyinahushedvoice,sothattheotherscan’thearme.“IthinksomeoftheseSenatorsmightburstfrombeingforcedtotalktopeopletheydon’tlike.”

MyteasingbringsasmallsmileofrelieftoDay’slips.“GladI’mnottheonlyunhappyone.”

Andenhasalreadyleftthestage,andDay’scommentremindsmethatIshouldbeescortinghimtothebanquetsoon.Thethoughtsobersme.“It’salmosttime,”Isay,motioningforDaytofollowme.“Thebanquetisveryprivate.You,me,theotherPrinceps-Elects,andtheElector.”

“What’sgoingon?”Dayasksashefallsintostepbesideme.Hisarmbrushesonceagainstmine,sendingshiversdancingacrossmyskin.Istruggletocatchmybreath.Focus,June.“Youweren’texactlyspecificinourlastconversation.IhopeI’mputtingupwithallofthesesnobbyCongresstrotsforagoodreason.”

Ican’thelpmyamusementatthewayDayreferstotheSenators.“You’llfindoutwhenwegetthere.Andkeepyourinsultstoaminimum.”Ilookawayfromhimandtowardthesmallcorridorwe’reheadingfor,JasperChamber,adiscreethallbranchingawayfromthemainballroom.

“I’mnotgoingtolikethis,amI?”Daymuttersclosetomyear.Guiltrisesinme.“Probablynot.”Wesettledownintheprivatebanquetroom(asmall,rectangularcherrywood

tablewithsevenseats),andafterawhile,SergeandMarianafilterin.TheyeachtakeaseatoneithersideofAnden’sreservedchair.IstaynexttoDay,asAndenhadwished.Twoserversgoaroundthetable,placingdaintyplatesofwatermelonandporksaladbeforeeachseat.SergeandMarianamakepolitesmalltalk,butneitherDaynorIsaysanotherword.Nowandthen,Imanagetostealaglanceathim.He’seyeingthelinesofforks,spoons,andknivesathisplacesettingwithanuncomfortablefrown,tryingtofigurethemoutwithoutaskingforhelp.Oh,Day.Idon’tknowwhythisgivesmeapainful,flutteringfeelinginmystomach,orwhyitpullsmyhearttohim.I’dforgottenhowhislonglashescatchthelight.

“What’sthis?”hewhisperstome,holdinguponeofhisutensils.“Abutterknife.”Dayscowlsatit,runningafingeralongitsblunt,roundededge.“This,”he

mutters,“isnotaknife.”Besidehim,Sergenoticeshishesitationtoo.“Itakeityou’renotaccustomed

toforksandkniveswhereyou’refrom?”hesayscoollytohim.Daystiffens,buthedoesn’tmissabeat.Hegrabsalargercarvingknife,

purposelydisturbinghisplace’scarefulsetup,andgesturescasuallywithit.BothSergeandMarianaedgeawayfromthetable.“WhereIcomefrom,we’remoreaboutefficiency,”hereplies.“Aknifelikethis’llskewerfood,smearbutter,andslitthroatsallatthesametime.”

OfcourseDay’sneverslitathroatinhislife—butSergedoesn’tknowthat.Hesniffsindisdainatthereply,buttheblooddrainsfromhisface.IhavetopretendtocoughsothatIdon’tlaughatDay’smock-seriousexpression.Forthosewhodon’tknowhimwell,hiswordsactuallysoundintimidating.

IalsonoticesomethingIhadn’tearlier—Daylookspale.MuchpalerthanIremember.Myamusementwavers.IshisrecentillnesssomethingmoreseriousthanI’dfirstassumed?

Andenarrivesintheroomaminutelater,causingtheusualstirasweallriseforhim,andgesturesforallofustotakeourseats.He’saccompaniedbyfoursoldiers,oneofwhomclosesthedoorbehindhimandfinallysealsusintoourprivatemeal.

“Day,”Andengreets.HepausestonodcourteouslyinDay’sdirection.Daylooksunhappywiththeattention,butmanagestoreturnthegesture.“It’sapleasuretoseeyouagain,ifunderunfortunatecircumstances.”

“Veryunfortunate,”Daysaysinreturn.Ishiftuncomfortablyinmyseat,tryingtoimagineamoreawkwardscenariothanthisdinnersetup.

Andenletsthestiffreplyslide.“Letmecatchyouuponthecurrentsituation.”Heputshisforkdown.“Thepeacetreatywe’vebeenworkingonwiththeColoniesisnowshelved.AvirushashittheColonies’southernwarfrontcitieshard.”

Besideme,Daycrosseshisarmsandregardsthecrowdwithasuspiciousexpressiononhisface,butAndengoeson.“Theybelievethisviruswascausedbyus,andtheyaredemandingthatwesendthemacureifwewanttocontinuepeacetalks.”Sergeclearshisthroatandstartstosaysomething,butAndenholdsupahandforsilence.Hethengoesontospillallthedetails—howtheColoniesfirstsentaharshmessagetotheRepublic,demandinginfoontheviruswreakinghavocamongsttheirtroops,hastilywithdrawingtheiraffectedsoldiers,andthenbroadcastingtheirultimatumtothewarfrontgenerals,warningofdireconsequencesifacurewasnotdeliveredimmediately.

Daylistenstoallofitwithoutmovingamuscleorutteringaword.Oneofhishandsgripstheedgeofthetabletightlyenoughtoturnhisknuckleswhite.Iwonderwhetherhe’sguessedwherethisisgoingandwhatallthishastodowithhim,buthejustwaitsuntilAndenhasfinished.

Sergeleansbackinhischairandfrowns.“IftheColonieswanttoplaygameswithourpeaceoffer,”hescoffs,“thenletthem.We’vebeenatwarlongenough—wecanhandlesomemore.”

“No,wecan’t,”Marianainterjects.“DoyouhonestlythinktheUnited

Nationswillacceptthenewsthatourpeacetreatyfellapart?”“DotheColonieshaveanyevidencethatwecausedit?Oraretheseempty

accusations?”“Exactly.Iftheythinkwe’regoingto—”Daysuddenlyspeaksup,hisfaceturnedtowardAnden.“Let’sstopdragging

ourfeet,”hesays.“TellmewhyI’mhere.”He’snotloud,buttheominoustoneofhisvoicehushestheconversationintheroom.Andenreturnshislookwithanequallygraveone.Hetakesadeepbreath.

“Day,Ibelievethisistheresultofoneofmyfather’sbioweapons—andthattheviruscamefromyourbrotherEden’sblood.”

Day’seyesnarrow.“And?”Andenseemsreluctanttocontinue.“There’smorethanonereasonwhyI

didn’twantallmySenatorsinherewithus.”Heleansforward,lowershisvoice,andgivesDayahumbledlook.“Idon’twanttohearanyoneelserightnow.Iwanttohearyou.Youaretheheartofthepeople,Day—youalwayshavebeen.You’vegiveneverythingyouhaveinordertoprotectthem.”Daystiffensbesideme,butAndengoeson.“Ifearforthepeople.Iworryabouttheirsafety,thatwe’llbehandingthemovertotheenemyjustaswe’restartingtoputthepiecestogether.”Hegrowsquieter.“Ineedtomakesomedifficultdecisions.”

Dayraisesaneyebrow.“Whatkindofdecisions?”“TheColoniesaredesperateforacure.Theywilldestroyustogetit,

everythingbothyouandIcareabout.TheonlychancewehaveoffindingoneistotakeEdenintotemporary—”

Daypusheshischairfromthetableandrises.“No,”hesays.Hisvoiceisflatandicy,butIremembermyold,heatedargumentwithDaywellenoughtorecognizethedeepfurybeneathhiscalmness.Withoutanotherword,heturnsfromthegroupandwalksaway.

Sergestartstogetup,nodoubttoshoutatDayabouthisrudeness,butAndenshootshimawarningstareandmotionsforhimtosit.ThenAndenturnstomewithalookthatsays,Talktohim.Please.

IwatchDay’sretreatingfigure.Hehaseveryrighttorefuse,everyrighttohateusforaskingthisofhim.ButIstillfindmyselfrisingfrommyownchair,steppingawayfromthebanquettable,andhurryinginhisdirection.

“Day,wait,”Icallout.Mywordssendmeapainfulreminderofthelasttimewe’dbeeninthesameroomtogether,whenwehadsaidourgood-byes.

Weheadintothesmallercorridorthatleadsouttothemainballroom.Daydoesn’tturnaround,butheseemstoslowhisstepsdowninanattempttoletme

catchup.WhenIfinallyreachhim,Itakeadeepbreath.“Look,Iknow—”Daypressesafingertohislips,silencingme,andthengrabsmyhand.His

skiniswarmthroughthefabricofhisglove.ThefeelofhisfingersaroundmineissuchashockafterallthesemonthsthatIcan’tremembertherestofmysentence—everythingabouthim,histouch,hiscloseness,feelsright.“Let’stalkinprivate,”hewhispers.

Weheadinsideoneofthedoorsliningthecorridor,thencloseitbehindusandturnthelock.Myeyesdoacategoricalsweepoftheroom(privatediningchamber,nolightson,oneroundtableandtwelvechairsallcoveredinwhitecloths,andasinglelarge,archedwindowatthebackwallthatletsinastreamofmoonlight).Day’shairtransformsinheretoasilversheet.Heturnshisgazebacktomenow.

Isitmyimagination,ordoeshelookasflusteredasIamaboutourbriefhandhold?Ifeelthesuddentightnessofthedress’swaist,theairhittingmyexposedshouldersandcollarbone,theheavinessofthefabricandthejewelsinmyhair.Day’seyeslingerontherubynecklacesittingatthesmallofmythroat.Hispartinggifttome.Hischeeksturnalittlepinkinthedarkness.“So,”hesays,“isthisseriouslywhyI’mhere?”

Despitetheangerinhisvoice,hisdirectnessislikeacool,sweetbreezeafterallthesemonthsofcalculatedpoliticaltalk.Iwanttobreatheitin.“TheColoniesrefusetoacceptanyotherterms,”Ireply.“They’reconvincedthatwehaveacureforthevirus,andtheonlyonewhomightcarrythecureisEden.TheRepublic’salreadyrunningtestsonotherformer...experiments...toseewhethertheycanfindanything.”

Daycringes,thenfoldshisarmsinfrontofhischestandregardsmewithascowl.“Alreadyrunningtests,”hemutterstohimself,lookingofftowardthemoonlitwindows.“SorryIcan’tbemoreenthusiasticaboutthisidea,”headdsdryly.

Iclosemyeyesforamoment.“Wedon’thavemuchtime,”Iadmit.“Everydaywedon’thandoveracurefurtherangerstheColonies.”

“Andwhathappensifwedon’tgivethemanything?”“Youknowwhathappens.War.”AnoteoffearappearsinDay’seyes,buthestillshrugs.“TheRepublicand

theColonieshavebeenatwarforever.Howwillthisbeanydifferent?”“Thistimethey’llwin,”Iwhisper.“Theyhaveastrongally.Theyknow

we’revulnerableduringourtransitiontoayoungnewElector.Ifwecan’thandoverthiscure,wedon’tstandachance.”Inarrowmyeyes.“Don’tyou

rememberwhatwesawwhenwewenttotheColonies?”Daypausesforaheartbeat.Eventhoughhedoesn’tsayitaloud,Icanseethe

conflictwrittenclearlyonhisface.Finally,hesighsandtightenshislipsinanger.“YouthinkI’mgoingtolettheRepublictakeEdenagain?IftheElectorbelievesthat,thenIreallydidmakeamistakethrowingmysupportbehindhim.Ididn’thelphimoutjusttowatchhimtossEdenbackintoalab.”

“I’msorry,”Isay.NousetryingtoconvincehimofhowmuchAndenalsohatesthesituation.“Heshouldn’thaveaskedyoulikethis.”

“Heputyouuptothis,didn’the?Ibetyouresistedtoo,yeah?Youknowhowthissounds.”Histoneturnsmoreexasperated.“Youknewwhatmyanswerwouldbe.Why’dyoustillsendforme?”

Ilookintohiseyesandsaythefirstthingthatcomestomind.“BecauseIwantedtoseeyou.Isn’tthatwhyyouagreedtoo?”

Thismakeshimpauseforamoment.Thenhewhirlsaround,rakesbothhandsthroughhishair,andsighs.“Whatdoyouthink,then?Tellmethetruth.Whatwouldyouaskmetodo,ifyoufeltabsolutelynopressurefromanyoneelseinthiscountry?”

Ituckastrandofhairbehindmyear.Steelyourself,June.“I’d...,”Ibegin,thenhesitate.WhatwouldIsay?Logically,IagreewithAnden’sassessment.IftheColoniesdowhattheythreaten,iftheyattackuswiththefullforceofasuperpower’shelp,thenmanyinnocentliveswillbelostunlesswetakeariskwithonelife.Thereissimplynoeasierchoice.Besides,wecouldensurethatEdenwouldbetreatedaswellaspossible,withthebestdoctorsandthemostphysicalcomfort.Daycouldbepresentduringallofthepotentialprocedures—hecouldseeexactlywhatwashappening.ButhowdoIexplainthattoaboywhohasalreadylosthisentirefamily,whosawhisbrotherexperimentedonbefore,whohasbeenexperimentedonhimself?ThisisthepartthatAndendoesn’tunderstandaswellasIdo,eventhoughheknowsDay’spastonpaper—hestilldoesn’tknowDay,hasn’ttraveledwithhimandwitnessedthesufferinghe’sgonethrough.Thequestionistoocomplicatedtobeansweredwithsimplelogic.

Mostimportantly—Anden’sunabletoguaranteehisbrother’ssafety.Everythingwillcomewitharisk,andIknowwithdeadcertaintythatnothingintheworldcouldpossiblymakeDaytakethisrisk.

Daymustseethefrustrationdancingacrossmyface,becausehesoftensandstepscloser.Icanpracticallyfeeltheheatcomingoffhim,thewarmthofhisnearnessthatturnsmybreathshallow.“Icameheretonightforyou,”hesaysina

lowvoice.“There’snothingintheworldtheycould’vesaidtoconvinceme,exceptthatyouwantedmehere.AndIcan’tturndownarequestfromyou.Theytoldmeyouhadpersonally...”Heswallows.There’safamiliarwarofemotionsinhisexpressionthatleavesmewithasickfeeling—emotionsthatIknowaredesire,forwhatweoncehad,andanguish,fordesiringagirlwhodestroyedhisfamily.“It’ssogoodtoseeyou,June.”

Hesaysitlikehe’slettinggoofahugeburdenthat’sbeenholdinghimdown.Iwonderwhetherhecanhearmyheartpoundingfranticallyagainstmyribs.WhenIspeak,though,Imanagetokeepmyvoicesteadyandcalm.“Areyouokay?”Iask.“Youlookpale.”

Theweightreturnstohiseyes,andhisbriefmomentofintimacyfadesashestepsawayandfiddleswiththeedgeofhisgloves.He’salwayshatedgloves,Iremember.“I’vehadabadfluforthelastcoupleofweeks,”hereplies,flashingmeaquickgrin.“Gettingbetternow,though.”(Eyesflickeringsubtlytotheside,scratchingtheedgeofhisear,stiffnessofhislimbs,timingslightlyoffbetweenhiswordsandhissmile.)Itiltmyheadathimandfrown.

“You’resuchabadliar,Day,”Isay.“Youmightaswelltellmewhat’sonyourmind.”

“There’snothingtotell,”herepliesautomatically.Thistimehepointshiseyesatthefloorandputshishandsinhispockets.“IfIseemoff,it’sbecauseI’mworriedaboutEden.He’sgottenayearoftreatmentforhiseyesandhestillcan’tseemuch.Thedoctorstellmethathemayneedsomespecialcontacts,andeventhen,hemightnevergethisfulleyesightback.”

Icantellthisisn’ttherealreasonbehindDay’sexhaustedappearance,butheknowsthatbringingEden’srecoveryintothisconversationwillstopanyquestionsfromme.Well,ifhereallydoesn’twanttotellme,thenIwon’tpressurehim.Iclearmythroatawkwardly.“That’sterrible,”Iwhisper.“I’msosorrytohearit.Ishedoingokay,otherwise?”

Daynods.Wefallbackintoourmoonlitsilence.Ican’thelprecallingthelasttimewewerealoneinaroomtogether,whenhetookmyfaceinhishands,whenhistearswerefallingagainstmycheeks.IrememberthewayhewhisperedI’msorryagainstmylips.Now,aswestandthreefeetapartandstareateachother,Ifeelthefulldistancethatcomeswithspendingsomuchtimeapart,amomentfilledwiththeelectricityofafirstmeetingandtheuncertaintyofstrangers.

Dayleanstowardme,asifdrawnbysomeinvisibleforce.Thetragicpleaonhisfacetwistsmystomachintopainfulknots.Pleasedon’taskthisofme,hiseyesbeg.Pleasedon’taskmetogiveupmybrother.Iwoulddoanythingelsefor

you.Justnotthis.“June,I...,”hewhispers.Hisvoicethreatenstobreakwithalltheheartachehe’skeepingbottledinside.

Heneverfinishesthatsentence.Instead,hesighsandbowshishead.“Ican’tagreetoyourElector’sterms,”hesaysinasombertone.“I’mnotgoingtohandmybrothertotheRepublicasanotherexperiment.TellhimI’llworkwithhimtofindanothersolution.Iunderstandhowseriousthisallis—Idon’twanttoseetheRepublicfall.I’dbegladtohelpandfiguresomethingelseout.ButEdenstaysoutofthis.”

Andthat’stheendofourconversation.Daynodsatmeinfarewell,lingersforafewlastseconds,andthenstepstowardthedoor.Ileanagainstthewallinsuddenexhaustion.Withouthimnearby,there’salackofenergy,adullingofcolor,graymoonlightwheremomentsearliertherehadbeensilver.Istudyhispalenessafinaltime,analyzinghimfromthecornerofmyeye.Heavoidsmygaze.Somethingiswrong,andherefusestotellmewhatitis.

WhatamImissinghere?Hepullsthedooropen.Hisexpressionhardensrightbeforehestepsoutof

theroom.“AndifforsomereasontheRepublictriestotakeEdenbyforce,I’llturnthepeopleagainstAndensofastthatarevolutionwillbeonhimbeforehecanblink.”

SERIOUSLY,ISHOULDBEUSEDTOMYNIGHTMARESBYNOW.ThistimeIdreamaboutmeandEdenataSanFranciscohospital.A

doctor’sfittingEdenwithanewpairofglasses.Weendupatahospitalatleastonceaweek,sothattheycanmonitorhowEden’seyesareslowlyadjustingtomedication,butthisisthefirsttimeIseethedoctorsmileencouraginglyatmybrother.Mustbeagoodsign,yeah?

Edenturnstome,grins,andpuffshischestoutinanexaggeratedgesture.Ihavetolaugh.“Howdoesitlook?”heasksme,fiddlingwithhishugenewframes.Hiseyesstillhavethatweird,palepurplecolor,andhecan’tfocusonme,butInoticethathecannowmakeoutthingslikethewallsaroundhimandthelightcominginfromthewindows.Myheartjumpsatthesight.Progress.

“Youlooklikeaneleven-year-oldowl,”Ireply,walkingovertorufflehishair.Hegigglesandbatsmyhandaway.

Aswesittogetherintheoffice,waitingforpaperwork,IwatchEdenbusilyfoldingpiecesofpapertogetherintosomekindofelaboratedesign.Hehastohunchclosetothepaperstoseewhathe’sdoing,hisbrokeneyesalmostcrossedwithconcentration,hisfingersnimbleanddeliberate.Iswear,thiskid’salwaysmakingsomethingorother.

“Whatisit?”Iaskhimafterawhile.He’sconcentratingtoohardtoanswermerightaway.Finally,whenhe

tucksonelastpapertriangleintothedesign,heholdsitupandgivesmethatcheekygrin.“Here,”hesays,pointingtowhatlookslikeapaperleafstickingoutoftheballofpaper.“Pullthis.”

Idoashesays.Tomyamazement,thedesigntransformsintoanelaborate3-Dpaperrose.Ismilebackathiminmydream.“Prettyimpressive.”

Edentakeshispaperdesignback.Inthatinstant,analarmblaresthroughoutthehospital.Edendropsthe

paperflowerandjumpstohisfeet.Hisblindeyesarewideopeninterror.Iglancetothehospital’swindows,wheredoctorsandnurseshavegathered.OutalongthehorizonofSanFrancisco,arowofColoniesairshipssailcloserandclosertous.Thecitybelowthemburnsfromadozenfires.

Thealarmdeafensme.IgrabEden’shandandrushusoutoftheroom.“Wehavetogetoutofhere,”Ishout.Whenhestumbles,unabletoseewherewe’regoing,Ihoisthimontomyback.Peoplerushallaroundus.

Ireachthestairwell—andthere,alineofRepublicsoldiersstopsus.OneofthempullsEdenoffmyback.Hescreams,kickingoutatpeoplehecan’tsee.Istruggletofreemyselffromthesoldiers,buttheirgripisironclad,andmylimbsfeellikethey’resinkingintodeepmud.Weneedhim,someunrecognizablevoicewhispersintomyear.Hecansaveusall.

Iscreamoutloud,butnoonecanhearme.Offinthedistance,theColoniesairshipsaimatthehospital.Glassshattersallaroundus.Ifeeltheheatoffire.OnthefloorliesEden’spaperflower,itsedgescrispingfromflames.Icannolongerseemybrother.

He’sgone.He’sdead.

***

Apoundingheadachepullsmefrommysleep.Thesoldiersvanish—thealarmsilences—thechaosofthehospitaldisappearsintothedarkbluehueofourbedroom.ItrytotakeadeepbreathandlookaroundforEden,buttheheadachestabsintothebackofmyskulllikeanicepick,andIboltuprightwithagaspofpain.NowIrememberwhereIreallyam.I’minatemporaryapartmentbackinDenver,themorningafterseeingJune.Onthebedroomdressersitsmyusualtransmissionbox,thestationstilltunedtooneoftheairwavesIthoughtthePatriotsmight’vebeenusing.

“Daniel?”Inthebednexttomine,Edenstirs.Reliefhitsme,eveninthemidstofmyagony.Justanightmare.Likealways.Justanightmare.“Areyouokay?”Ittakesmeasecondtorealizethatdawnhasn’tquitearrived—theroomstilllooksdark,andallIcanseeismybrother’ssilhouetteagainstthebluishblackofthenight.

Idon’tanswerrightaway.Instead,Iswingmylegsoverthesideofthebedtofacehimandclutchmyheadinbothhands.Anotherjoltofpainhitsthebaseofmybrain.“Getmymedicine,”ImuttertoEden.

“ShouldIgetLucy?”

“No.Don’twakeher,”Ireply.Lucy’salreadyhadtwosleeplessnightsbecauseofme.“Medicine.”

Thepainmakesmeruderthanusual,butEdenjumpsoutofbedbeforeIcanapologize.Heimmediatelystartsfumblingforthebottleofgreenpillsthatalwayssitsonthedresserbetweenourbeds.Hegrabsitandholdsoutthebottleinmygeneraldirection.

“Thanks.”Itakeitfromhim,pourthreepillsintomypalmwithashakinghand,andtrytoswallowthem.Throat’stoodry.Ipushmyselfupfromthebedandstaggertowardthekitchen.Behindme,Edenuttersanother“Areyousureyou’reokay?”butthepaininmyheadissostrongthatIcanhardlyhearhim.Icanhardlyevensee.

Ireachthekitchensinkandturnthefauceton,cupsomewaterintomyhands,anddrinkitdownwiththemedicine.ThenIslidedowntothefloorinthedarkness,restingmybackagainstthecoldmetaloftherefrigeratordoor.

It’sokay,Iconsolemyself.Myheadacheshadworsenedoverthepastyear,butthedoctorsassuredmethattheseattacksshouldlastnolongerthanahalfhoureachtime.Ofcourse,theyalsotoldmethatifanyofthemfeltunusuallysevere,Ishouldberushedtotheemergencyroomrightaway.SoeverytimeIgetone,IwonderifI’mexperiencingatypicalday—orthelastdayofmylife.

Afewminuteslater,Edenstumblesintothekitchenwithhiswalkingmeteron,thedevicebeepingwheneverhegetstooclosetoawall.“MaybeweshouldaskLucytocallthedoctors,”hewhispers.

Idon’tknowwhy,butthesightofEdenfeelinghiswaythroughthekitchensendsmeintoafitoflow,uncontrollablelaughter.“Man,lookatus,”Ireply.Mylaughterturnsintocoughs.“Whatateam,yeah?”

Edenfindsmebyplacingatentativehandonmyhead.Hesitsbesidemewithhislegscrossedandgivesmeawrygrin.“Hey—withyourmetallegandhalfabrain,andmyfourleftoversenses,wealmostmakeawholeperson.”

Ilaughharder,butitmakesthepainofmyheadachethatmuchworse.“Whendidyouturnsosarcastic,littleboy?”Igivehimanaffectionateshove.

Westayhunchedinsilenceforthenexthourastheheadachegoesonandon.I’mnowwrithinginpain.Sweatsoaksmywhitecollarshirtandtearsstreakmyface.Edensitsnexttomeandgripsmyhandinhissmall

ones.“Trynottothinkaboutit,”heurgesunderhisbreath,squintingatmewithhispalepurpleeyes.Hepusheshisblack-rimmedglassesfartheruphisnose.Bitsandpiecesofmynightmarecomebacktome,imagesofhishandgettingyankedoutofmine.Soundsofhisscreams.Isqueezehishandsotightlythathewinces.“Don’tforgettobreathe.Thedoctoralwayssaystakingdeepbreathsissupposedtohelp,right?Breathein,breatheout.”

Iclosemyeyesandtrytofollowmylittlebrother’scommands,butit’shardtohearhimatallthroughthepoundingofmyheadache.Thepainisexcruciating,all-consuming,awhite-hotknifestabbingrepeatedlyintothebackofmybrain.Breathein,breatheout.Here’sthepattern—firstthere’sadull,numbingache,followedshortlybytheabsoluteworstpainyoucaneverimaginegoingintoyourhead,aspearshovedthroughyourskull,andtheimpactofitissohardthatyourentirebodygoesstiff;itlastsforasolidthreeseconds,followedbyasplitsecondofrelief.Andthenitrepeatsitselfalloveragain.

“Howlonghasitbeen?”IgaspouttoEden.Dimbluelightisslowlyfilteringinfromthewindows.

Edenpullsoutatinysquarecomandpressesitsloneknob.“Time?”heasksit.Thedeviceimmediatelyresponds,“Zerofivethirty.”Heputsitaway,aconcernedfrownonhisface.“It’sbeenalmostanhour.Hasitgoneonthislongbefore?”

I’mdying.Ireallyamdying.It’stimeslikethiswhenI’mgladthatIdon’tseemuchofJuneanymore.Thethoughtofherseeingmesweatinganddirtyonmykitchenfloor,clutchingmybabybrother’shandfordearlifelikesomeweepyweakling,whileshe’sbreathtakinginherscarletgownandjewel-studdedhair...Youknow,forthatmatter,inthismomentI’mevenrelievedthatMomandJohncan’tseeme.

WhenImoanfromanotherexcruciatingstabofpain,Edenpullsouthiscomagainandpressestheknob.“That’sit.I’mcallingthedoctors.”Whenthecombeeps,promptinghimforhiscommand,hesays,“Dayneedsanambulance.”Then,beforeIcanprotest,heraiseshisvoiceandcallsoutforLucy.

Secondslater,IhearLucyapproach.Shedoesn’tturnthelighton—sheknowsthatitonlymakesmyheadachesthatmuchworse.Instead,Iseeherstoutsilhouetteinthedarknessandhearherexclaim,“Day!Howlonghaveyoubeenouthere?”Sherushesovertomeandputsoneplumphandagainstmycheek.ThensheglancesatEdenandtoucheshischin.“Didyou

callforthedoctors?”Edennods.Lucyinspectsmyfaceagain,thencluckshertonguein

worrieddisapprovalandbustlesofftograbacooltowel.ThelastplaceIwanttoberightnowislyinginaRepublichospital—but

Eden’salreadyplacedthecall,andI’drathernotbedeadanyway.Myvisionhasstartedtoblur,andIrealizeit’sbecauseIcan’tstopmyeyesfromwateringnonstop.IwipeahandacrossmyfaceandsmileweaklyatEden.“Damn,I’mdrippingwaterlikealeakyfaucet.”

Edentriestosmileback.“Yeah,you’vehadbetterdays,”hereplies.“Hey,kid.RememberthattimewhenJohnaskedyoutobeinchargeof

wateringtheplantsoutsideourdoor?”Edenfrownsforasecond,diggingthroughhismemories,andthena

grinlightsuphisface.“Ididaprettygoodjob,didn’tI?”“Youbuiltthatlittlemakeshiftcatapultinfrontofourdoor.”Iclosemy

eyesandindulgeinthememory,atemporarydistractionfromallthepain.“Yeah,Irememberthatthing.Youkeptlobbingwaterballoonsatthosepoorflowers.Didtheyevenhaveanypetalsleftafteryouweredone?Ohman,Johnwassopissed.”HewasevenmadderbecauseEdenwasonlyfouratthetimeand,well,howdoyoupunishyourwide-eyedbabybrother?

Edengiggles.Iwinceasanotherwaveofagonyhitsme.“WhatwasitthatMomusedtosayaboutus?”heasks.NowIcantell

thathe’stryingtokeepmymindonotherthingstoo.Imanageasmile.“Momusedtosaythathavingthreeboyswaskindof

likehavingapettornadothattalkedback.”Thetwoofuslaughforamoment,atleastbeforeIsquintmyeyesshutagain.

Lucycomesbackwiththetowel.Sheplacesitagainstmyforehead,andIsighinreliefatitscoolsurface.Shechecksmypulse,thenmytemperature.

“Daniel,”Edenpipesupwhilesheworks.Hescootscloser,hiseyesstillstaringblanklyoffataspottotherightofmyhead.“Hanginthere,okay?”

Lucyshootshimacriticalfrownatwhathistoneimplies.“Eden,”shescolds.“Moreoptimisminthishouse,please.”

Alumprisesinmythroat,turningmybreathshallower.John’sgone,Mom’sgone,Dad’sgone.IwatchEdenwithaheavyacheinmychest.Iusedtohopethatsincehewastheyoungestofusboys,hemightbeabletolearnfromJohn’sandmymistakesandbetheluckiestoutofus,maybemakeitintoacollegeorearnagoodlivingasamechanic,thatwe’dbearoundtoguidehimthroughthedifficulttimesinlife.Whatwouldhappen

tohimifIweregonetoo?WhathappensifhehastostandaloneagainsttheRepublic?

“Eden,”Isuddenlywhispertohim,pullinghimclose.Hiseyeswidenatmyurgenttone.“Listenclose,yeah?IftheRepubliceverasksyoutogowiththem,ifI’mevernothomeorI’minthehospitalandtheycomeknockingonourdoor,don’tevergowiththem.Youunderstandme?Youcallmefirst,youscreamforLucy,you...”Ihesitate.“YoucallforJuneIparis.”

“YourPrinceps-Elect?”“She’snotmy—”Igrimaceatanotherwaveofpain.“Justdoit.Call

her.Tellhertostopthem.”“Idon’tunderstand—”“Promiseme.Don’tgowiththem,whateveryoudo.Okay?”My

answer’scutshortwhenajoltofpainhitsmehardenoughtosendmecollapsingtotheground,curledupintoatightball.Ichokeoutashriek—myheadfeelslikeit’sbeingsplitintwo.Ievenputatremblinghandtothebackofmyheadasiftomakesuremybrain’snotleakingoutontothefloor.Somewhereaboveme,Edenisshouting.Lucyplacesanothercalltothedoctor,thistimefrantic.

“Justhurry!”sheyells.“Hurry!”Bythetimethemedicsarrive,I’mfadinginandoutofconsciousness.

Throughacloudofhazeandfog,Ifeelmyselfgettingliftedoffthekitchenfloorandcarriedoutoftheapartmenttower,thenintoawaitingambulancethathasbeendisguisedtolooklikearegularpolicejeep.Isitsnowing?Afewlightflakesdriftontomyface,shockingmewithpinpricksofcoldness.IcalloutforEdenandLucy—theyrespondfromsomewhereIcan’tsee.

Thenwe’reintheambulanceandpullingaway.AllIseeforalongtimeareblobsofcolor,fuzzycirclesmovingbackand

forthacrossmyvision,likeI’mpeeringthroughthick,bumpyglass.Itrytorecognizesomeofthem.Aretheypeople?Isureashellhopeso—otherwiseIreallymusthavedied,ormaybeI’mfloatingintheoceananddebrisisjustdriftingallaroundme.Thatdoesn’tmakeanysense,though,unlessthedoctorsjustdecidedtotossmerightintothePacificandforgetaboutme.Where’sEden?Theymust’vetakenhimaway.Justlikeinthenightmare.They’vedraggedhimofftothelabs.

Ican’tbreathe.Myhandstrytoflyuptomythroat,butthensomeoneshoutssomething

andIfeelweightagainstmyarms,pinningmedown.Somethingcoldisgoingdownmythroat,chokingme.

“Calmdown!You’reokay.Trytoswallow.”Idoasthevoicesays.SwallowingturnsouttobemoredifficultthanI

thought,butIfinallymanageagulp,andwhateverthecoldthingisslidesrightdownmythroatandintomystomach,chillingmetomycore.

“There,”thevoicegoeson,lessagitatednow.“Shouldhelpwithanyfutureheadaches,Ithink.”Hedoesn’tseemtobetalkingtomeanymore—andasecondlater,anothervoicechimesin.

“Seemstobeworkingalittle,Doctor.”Imust’vepassedoutagainafterthat,becausethenexttimeIwakeup,

thepatternontheceiling’sdifferentandlateafternoonlightisslantingintomyroom.Iblinkandlookaround.Theexcruciatingpaininmyheadisgone,atleastfornow.IcanalsoseeclearlyenoughtoknowI’minahospitalroom,theever-presentportraitofAndenononewallandascreenagainstanotherwall,broadcastingnews.Igroan,thenclosemyeyesandletoutasigh.Stupidhospitals.Sosickofthem.

“Patientisawake.”Iturntoseeamonitornearmybedsidethatrecitesthephrase.Asecondlater,arealhuman’svoicepopsupoveritsspeakers.“MisterWing?”itsays.

“Yeah?”Imutterback.“Excellent,”thevoicereplies.“Yourbrotherwillbeinshortlytosee

you.”Nosoonerthanhervoiceclicksoff,mydoorburstsopenandEden

comesrunninginwithtwoexasperatednurseshotonhistail.“Daniel,”hegaspsout,“you’refinallyawake!Suretookyoulongenough.”Hislackofsightcatchesupwithhim—hestumblesagainsttheedgeofadrawerbeforeIcanwarnhim,andthenurseshavetocatchhimintheirarmstokeephimfromfallingtothefloor.

“Easythere,kid,”Icallout.Myvoicesoundstired,eventhoughIfeelalertandpain-free.“HowlongwasIout?Whereis...?”Ipause,confusedforamoment.That’sweird.Whatwasourcaretaker’snameagain?Igraspforitinmythoughts.Lucy.“Where’sLucy?”Ifinish.

Hedoesn’tanswerrightaway.WhenthenursesfinallysituateEdenbesidemeinbed,hecrawlsclosertomeandflingshisarmsaroundmyneck.Tomyshock,Irealizethathe’scrying.“Hey.”Ipathishead.“Calmdown—it’sokay.I’mawake.”

“Ithoughtyouweren’tgoingtomakeit,”hemurmurs.Hispaleeyessearchformine.“Ithoughtyouweregone.”

“Well,I’mnot.I’mrighthere.”Ilethimsobforalittlewhile,hisheadburiedagainstmychest,histearsblurringhisglassesandstainingmyhospitalgown.There’sacopingmechanismI’vestartedusingrecentlywhereIpretendtoretreatbackintotheshellofmyheartandcrawloutofmybody,likeI’mnotreallyhereandaminsteadobservingtheworldfromanotherperson’sperspective.Eden’snotmybrother.He’snotevenreal.Nothingisreal.Everythingisillusion.Ithelps.IwaitwithoutemotionasEdengraduallycomposeshimself,andthenIcarefullyletmyselfbackintomybody.

Finally,whenhe’swipedawaythelastofhistears,hesitsupandburrowsinbesideme.“Lucy’sfillingoutpaperworkupfront.”Hisvoicestillsoundsalittleshaky.“You’vebeenoutforabouttenhours.Theysaidtheyhadtorushyououtofourbuildingthroughthemainentrance—therejustwasn’tanytimetotrysneakingyouout.”

“Didanyonesee?”Edenrubshistemplesinanattempttoremember.“Maybe.Idon’t

know.Ican’tremember—Iwastoodistracted.Ispentallmorningoutinthewaitingroombecausetheywouldn’tletmeinside.”

“Doyouknow...”Iswallow.“Haveyouheardanythingfromthedoctors?”

Edensighsinrelief.“Notreally.Butatleastyou’reokaynow.Thedoctorssaidyouhadabadreactiontothemedicinetheyputyouon.They’retakingyouoffitandtryingsomethingdifferent.”

ThewayEdensaysthismakesmyheartbeatfaster.Hedoesn’tfullygrasptherealityofthesituation—hestillthinksthattheonlyreasonI’dcollapsedlikethatwasn’tbecauseI’mgettingworse,butbecauseIjusthadabadreaction.Asick,sinkingfeelinghitsmystomach.Ofcoursehe’dbeoptimisticaboutitall;ofcoursehethinksthisisjustatemporarysetback.I’dbeenonthatdamnmedicationforthelasttwomonthsafterthefirsttworoundsalsostoppedworking,andwithalltheextraheadachesandnightmaresandnausea,I’dhopedthatthepillshadatleastdonesomegood,thattheyweresuccessfullyshrinkingtheproblemspotinmyhippocampus—theirfancywordforthebottomofmybrain.Apparentlynot.Whatifnothingworks?

Itakeadeepbreathandputonasmileformybrother.“Well,atleast

theyknownow.Maybethey’lltrysomethingbetterthistime.”Edensmilesalong,sweetandnaïve.“Yeah.”Severalminuteslater,mydoctorcomesinandEdenmovesbackoutside

tothewaitingroom.Asthedoctortalksinalowvoicetomeabout“ournextoptions,”whattreatmentsthey’lltrytoexperimentwithnext,healsoquietlytellsmehowsmallofachancetheyhave.LikeIfeared,myreactionwasn’tjustsometemporarymedicineissue.“Themedicationisslowlyshrinkingtheaffectedarea,”thedoctorsays,buthisexpressionstaysgrim.“Still,theareacontinuestofester,andyourbodyhasbeguntorejecttheoldmedication,forcingustosearchfornewones.Wearequitesimplyracingagainsttheclock,Day,tryingtoshrinkitenoughandpullitoutbeforeitcandoitsworst.”Ilistentoitallwithastraightface;hisvoicesoundslikeit’sunderwater,unimportantandoutoffocus.

Finally,Istophimandsay,“Look,justtellmestraightup.HowmuchlongerdoIhave?Ifnothingworksout?”

Thedoctorpurseshislips,hesitates,andthenshakeshisheadwithasigh.“Probablyamonth,”headmits.“Maybetwo.We’redoingthebestwecan.”

Amonthortwo.Well,they’vebeenwronginthepast—amonthortwoprobablymeansmorelikefourorfive.Still.Ilooktowardthedoor,whereEden’sprobablypressedagainstthewoodandtryinginvaintohearwhatwe’resaying.ThenIturnbacktothedoctorandswallowthelumpinmythroat.“Twomonths,”Iecho.“Isthereanychance?”

“Wemighttrysomeriskiertreatments,althoughthosehavesideeffectsthatmaybefatalifyoureactbadlytothem.Asurgerybeforeyou’rereadywilllikelykillyou.”Thedoctorcrosseshisarms.Hisglassescatchthecoldfluorescentlightandshineinawaythatblocksouthiseyesentirely.Helookslikeamachine.“Iwouldsuggest,Day,thatyoubegingettingyourprioritiesinorder.”

“Myprioritiesinorder?”“Prepareyourbrotherforthenews,”hereplies.“Andsettleany

unfinishedbusiness.”

AT0810HOURSONTHEMORNINGAFTERTHEEMERGENCYbanquet,Andencallsme.“It’sCaptainBryant,”hesays.“Hehasputinhislastrequest,andhislastrequestistoseeyou.”

Isitattheedgeofmybed,blinkingawayanightoffitfulsleep,tryingtoworkuptheenergytounderstandwhatAndenistellingme.

“TomorrowwetransferhimtoaprisonontheothersideofDenvertoprepareforhisfinalday.He’saskedifhecanseeyoubeforethen.”

“Whatdoeshewant?”“Whateverhehastosay,hewantsitheardbyyourearsalone,”Anden

replies.“Remember,June—youhavetheoptiontorefusehim.Wedon’thavetograntthislastrequest.”

Tomorrow,Thomaswillbedead.IwonderwhetherAndenfeelsanyguiltoversentencingasoldiertodie.ThethoughtoffacingThomasaloneinajailcellsendsawaveofpanicthroughme,butIsteelmyself.MaybeThomashassomethingtosayaboutmybrother.DoIwanttohearit?

“I’llseehim,”Ifinallyreply.“Andhopefullythisisthelasttime.”Andenmusthearsomethinginmyvoice,becausehiswordssoften.“Of

course.I’llarrangeforyourescort.”

0930HOURS.DENVERSTATEPENITENTIARY.

ThehallwhereThomasandCommanderJamesonarebeingheldislitwithcold,fluorescentlight,andthesoundofmybootsechoesagainstthehighceiling.Severalsoldiersflankme,butasidefromus,thehallfeelsemptyandominous.PortraitsofAndenhangatsporadicintervalsalongthewalls.Myeyesstayfocusedoneachofthecellswepass,studyingthem,detailsrunningthroughmy

mindinanefforttokeepmyselfcalmandfocused.(32×32feetinsize,smoothsteelwalls,bulletproofglass,camsmountedoutsideofthecellsinsteadofinside.Mostofthemareempty,andtheonesthatarefilledholdthreeoftheSenatorswhohadplottedagainstAnden.ThisfloorisreservedforprisonersassociatedspecificallywithAnden’sattemptedassassination.)

“Ifyouexperienceanytroubleatall,”oneofthesoldierssaystome,tappinghiscapinapolitebow,“justcallusin.We’llhavethattraitordownonthegroundbeforehecanmakeamove.”

“Thankyou,”Ireply,myeyesstillfixedonth