by Lu, Marie
“Have you ever lied to any of your professors at Drake?”
“No.”
“Have you ever lied to your brother?”
Suddenly the room vanishes. A shimmering image replaces it—a familiar living room bathed in warm afternoon light comes into focus, and a white puppy sleeps next to my feet. A tall, dark-haired teenager sits next to me with his arms crossed. It’s Metias. He frowns and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“Have you ever lied to me, June?”
I blink in shock at the scene. This is all fake, I tell myself. The lie detector is conjuring up illusions that are designed to break me down. I’d heard of devices like this being used near the warfront, where a machine can simulate sequences to play out in your mind by copying the brain’s ability to create vivid dreams. But Metias looks so real, it’s like I could reach out and tuck his dark hair behind his ear, or feel my tiny hand in his large one. I can almost believe that I’m right there in the room with him. I close my eyes, but the image stays embedded in my mind, bright as daylight.
“Yes,” I say. It’s the truth. Metias’s eyes go wide with surprise and sadness, then he vanishes along with Ollie and the rest of the apartment. I’m back in the middle of the gray lie detector room, standing before Dr. Sadhwani as she jots down more notes. She gives me an approving nod for answering correctly. I try to steady my hands as they stay clenched and trembling at my sides.
“Very good,” she murmurs a moment later.
My words sound as cold as ice. “Do you plan on using my brother against me for the rest of these questions?”
She looks away from her notes again. “You saw your brother?” She seems more relaxed now, and the sweat on her forehead has faded away.
So. They can’t control what visions pop up, and they can’t see what I see. But they’re able to trigger something that forces these memories up to the surface. I keep my head high and my eyes on the doctor. “Yes.”
The questions continue. Which grade did you skip during your time at Drake? Sophomore year. How many conduct warnings did you receive when you were at Drake? Eighteen. Prior to your brother’s death, had you ever had negative thoughts about the Republic? No.
On and on. She’s trying to desensitize my brain, I realize, to make me lower my guard so she’ll be able to see a physical reaction when she does ask something relevant. Twice more I see Metias. Each time it happens, I take a deep breath and force myself to hold it in for several seconds. They grill me about how I escaped from the Patriots, what the bombing mission was for. I repeat what I’d told Anden at our dinner. So far, so good. The detector says I’ve told the truth.
“Is Day alive?”
And then Day materializes in front of me. He’s standing only a few feet away, with blue eyes so reflective that I can see myself in them. An easy grin lights up his face when he sees me. Suddenly I ache for him so much that I feel like I’m falling. He’s not real. This is all a simulation. I let my breathing steady. “Yes.”
“Why did you help Day escape, when you knew that he’s wanted for so many crimes against the Republic? Might you have feelings for him?”
A dangerous question. I harden my heart against it. “No. I simply didn’t want him to die at my hands for the one crime he didn’t commit.”
The doctor pauses in her note-taking to raise an eyebrow at me. “You risked an awful lot for someone you hardly know.”
I narrow my eyes. “That doesn’t say much about your character. Perhaps you should wait until someone’s about to be executed for a mistake you made.”
She doesn’t respond to the acid in my words. The illusion of Day vanishes. I get a few more irrelevant control questions, then: “Are you and Day affiliated with the Patriots?”
Day appears again. This time he leans in close enough for his hair to brush, light as silk, against my cheeks. He pulls me toward him for a long kiss. The scene vanishes, replaced abruptly by a stormy night and Day struggling through the rain, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a trail behind him. He collapses onto his knees in front of Razor before the whole scene disappears again. I fight to keep my voice steady. “I was.”
“Is there going to be an assassination attempt on our glorious Elector?”
No need for me to lie on this one. I let my gaze wander to Anden, who nods at me in what I assume is encouragement. “Yes.”
“And are the Patriots aware that you know about their assassination plans?”
“No, they are not.”
Dr. Sadhwani looks over at her colleagues, and after several seconds she nods and turns back to me. The detector says I’ve told the truth. “Are there soldiers close to the Elector who may support this assassination attempt?”
“Yes.”
Several more seconds of silence while she checks with her colleagues on my answer. Again, she nods. This time she turns around to face Anden and his Senators. “She’s telling the truth.”
Anden nods back. “Good,” he says, his voice muffled through the glass. “Continue, please.” The Senators keep their arms crossed and their lips tight.
Dr. Sadhwani’s questions are ceaseless, drowning me in their never-ending torrent. When will the assassination attempt take place? On the Elector’s planned route to the warfront city of Lamar, Colorado. Do you know where the Elector will be safe? Yes. Where should he go instead? A different border city. Is Day going to be a part of this assassination attempt? Yes. Why is he involved? He’s indebted to the Patriots for fixing his injured leg.
“Lamar,” Dr. Sadhwani murmurs as she types more notes into her black device. “I guess the Elector will be switching his route.”
Another piece of the plan falls into place.
The questions finally come to an end. Dr. Sadhwani turns away from me to talk with the others, while I let a breath out and sag against the detector machine. I’ve been in here for exactly two hours and five minutes. My eyes meet Anden’s. He’s still standing near the glass doors, surrounded on both sides by soldiers, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“Wait,” he says. The examiners pause in their deliberations to look over at their Elector. “I have a last question for our guest.”
Dr. Sadhwani blinks and waves at me. “Of course, Elector. Please.”
Anden walks closer to the glass separating us. “Why are you helping me?”
I push back my shoulders and meet his eyes. “Because I want to be pardoned.”
“Are you loyal to the Republic?”
A final collage of memories comes into focus. I see myself holding my brother’s hand on the streets of our Ruby sector, our arms raised in salute to the JumboTrons as we recite the pledge. There’s Metias’s face, his smile and also his strained look of worry on the last night I saw him. I see the Republic flags at my brother’s funeral. Metias’s secret online entries scroll past my eyes—his words of warning, his anger at the Republic. I see Thomas pointing his gun at Day’s mother; I see her head snap backward at the bullet’s impact. She crumples. It’s my fault. I see Thomas clutching his head in the interrogation room, tortured, blindingly obedient, forever captive to what he did.
I’m not loyal anymore. Am I still loyal? I am right here in the Republic’s capital, helping the Patriots assassinate the new Elector. A man I once pledged my allegiance to. I am going to kill him, and then I’m going to run away. I know that the lie detector is going to reveal my betrayal—I’m distracted, consumed with the conflict of needing to make things right with Day, but hating to leave the Republic at the mercy of the Patriots.
A shudder runs through me. They’re just images. Just memories. I remain silent until my heartbeat steadies. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then open them again. “Yes,” I say. “I am loyal to the Republic.”
I wait for the lie detector to flare red, to beep, to reveal that I’m lying. But the machine is quiet. Dr. Sadhwan
i keeps her head down and types in her notepad.
“She’s telling the truth,” Dr. Sadhwani finally says.
I’ve passed. I can’t believe it. The machine says I’m telling the truth. But it’s only a machine.
* * *
Later that night, I sit on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. Shackles still hang from my wrists, but otherwise I’m free to move around. I can still hear the sounds of occasional muffled conversation outside my room, though. Those guards are still there.
I’m so exhausted. I shouldn’t be, technically, since I haven’t done anything physically straining since I was first arrested. But Dr. Sadhwani’s questions whirl in my mind and combine with the things Thomas had said to me, haunting me until I have to clutch my head in an attempt to ward off the headache. Somewhere out there, the government is debating whether or not they should pardon me. I’m shivering a little, even though I know the room is warm.
Classic signs of an oncoming illness, I think darkly. Maybe it’s the plague. The irony of that sends a hint of sadness—and fear—through me. But I’m vaccinated. It’s probably just a cold—after all, Metias had always said I was a little sensitive to changes in weather.
Metias. Now that I’m alone, I let myself worry. My last answer during the lie detector test should have thrown a red flag. But it didn’t. Does that mean I am still loyal to the Republic, without even being aware of it? Somewhere, deep down, the machine could sense my doubts about carrying out the assassination.
But if I decide not to play out my role, what will happen to Day? I’ll need a way to contact him without Razor finding out. And then what? Day’s certainly not going to see the Elector the way I see him. And besides, I have no backup plan. Think, June. I have to come up with an alternative that will keep us all alive.
If you want to rebel, Metias had told me, rebel from inside the system. I keep dwelling on this memory, although my shivering makes it hard to concentrate.
Suddenly I hear a commotion outside the door. There’s the sound of heels clicking smartly together, the telltale sign of an official coming to see me. I wait quietly. The doorknob finally turns. Anden steps in.
“Elector, sir, are you sure you don’t want a few guards with you—”
Anden just shakes his head and waves a hand at the soldiers outside the door. “Please, don’t trouble yourselves,” he says. “I’d like a private word with Ms. Iparis. It’ll only take a minute.” His words remind me of the ones I spoke when I’d visited Day in his cell at Batalla Hall.
The soldier gives Anden a quick salute and closes the door, leaving the two of us alone. I look up from where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. The shackles that bind my hands clink in the silence. The Elector isn’t in his usual formal garb; instead he wears a full-length black coat with a red stripe that runs down the front, and the rest of his clothes are elegantly simple (black collar shirt, a dark waistcoat with six shining buttons, black trousers, black pilot boots). His hair is glossy and neatly combed. A lone gun hangs at his waist, but he wouldn’t be able to draw it fast enough to shoot me if I decided to attack him. He’s genuinely trying to show his faith in me.
Razor had told me that if I was to find a moment when I could assassinate Anden on my own, I should do it. Take the opportunity. But now here he is, unexpectedly vulnerable before me, and I don’t make a single gesture. Besides, if I try to kill him here, there’s zero chance I’ll see Day again—or survive.
Anden sits down beside me, careful to leave some distance between us. Suddenly I’m embarrassed by my appearance—slouched and weary, with undone hair and nightclothes, seated next to the Republic’s handsome prince. But I still straighten and tilt my head up as gracefully as I can. I am June Iparis, I remind myself. I’m not going to let him see the chaos I’m feeling.
“I wanted to let you know that you were right,” he starts. There’s genuine warmth in his voice. “Two soldiers in my guard went missing this afternoon. Ran away.”
The two Patriot decoys have escaped, as planned. I sigh and give him a rehearsed look of relief, just in case Razor is watching. “Where are they now?”
“We’re not sure. Scouts are trying to track them.” Anden rubs his gloved hands together for a moment. “Commander DeSoto has instated a new rotation of soldiers that will accompany us.”
Razor. He is putting his own soldiers in place, gradually moving in for the kill.
“I’d like to thank you for your help, June,” Anden goes on. “I want to apologize for the lie detector test you had to undergo. I know it must have been unpleasant for you, but it was necessary. At any rate, I’m grateful for your honest answers. You’ll stay here with us for a few more days, until we’re sure the danger of the Patriots’ plans is past. We may still have some questions for you. After that, we will figure out how to integrate you back into the Republic’s ranks.”
“Thank you,” I say, even though the words are completely hollow.
Anden leans in. “I meant what I said at our dinner,” he whispers, his words rushed and his mouth barely moving. He’s nervous. A sudden paranoia seizes me—I tap a finger against my lips and give him a pointed look. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t shy away. He gently touches my chin, then pulls me toward him as if he were going to kiss me. He stops his lips right beside my own, letting them rest ever so slightly against the skin of my lower cheek. Tingles run down my spine and along with them, an undercurrent of guilt.
“So the cams don’t pick it up,” he whispers. This is a better way to talk in private; if a guard were to poke his head inside the door, it would seem like Anden’s stealing a kiss instead of whispering with me. A safer rumor to spread. And the Patriots would just think I’m going along with their plans.
Anden’s breath is warm against my skin. “I need your help,” he murmurs. “If you were pardoned of all crimes against the Republic and set free, would you be able to contact Day? Or is your relationship with him over now that you’re not with the Patriots?”
I bite my lip. The way Anden says relationship makes it sound like he thinks there was once something between Day and me. Once. “Why do you want me to contact him?” I ask.
His words have a quiet, commanding urgency that gives me goose bumps. “You and Day are the most celebrated people in the Republic. If I can form an alliance with you both, I can win the people. Then instead of quelling rebellions and trying to keep things from falling apart, I can concentrate on implementing the changes this country needs.”
I feel light-headed. This is sudden, startling, and for a moment I can’t even think of a good response. Anden is taking a huge risk talking to me like this. I swallow, my cheeks still burning from his proximity. I shift a little so I can see his eyes. “Why should we trust you?” I say, my voice steady. “What makes you think Day wants to help you?”
Anden’s eyes are clear with purpose. “I’m going to change the Republic, and I’m going to start by releasing Day’s brother.”
My mouth turns dry. Suddenly I wish we were talking loud enough for Day to hear. “You’re going to release Eden?”
“He never should have been taken in the first place. I’ll release him along with any others being used along the warfront.”
“Where is he?” I whisper. “When are you—”
“Eden has been traveling along the warfront for the past few weeks. My father had taken him, along with a dozen others, as part of a new war initiative. They’re basically being used as living biological weapons.” Anden’s face darkens. “I’m going to stop this mad circus. Tomorrow my order will go out—Eden will be taken from the warfront and cared for in the capital.”
This is new. This changes everything.
I have to find a way to tell Day about Eden’s release, before he and the Patriots kill the one person with the power to free him. What’s the best way to communicate with him? The Patriots must be watching all of my moves from the cam
s, I think, letting my mind spin. I’ll need to signal him. Day’s face appears in my thoughts and I want to run to him. I want so much to tell him this good news.
Is it good news? My practical side pulls at me, warning me to take this slowly. Anden might be lying, and this could all be a trap. But if it was just another attempt to arrest Day, then why wouldn’t he just threaten to kill Eden? That would bring Day out of hiding. Instead, he’s letting Eden go.
Anden waits patiently through my silence. “I need Day to trust me,” he murmurs.
I put my arms around his neck and move my lips closer to his ear. He smells like sandalwood and clean wool. “I’ll need to find a way to contact him, and convince him. But if you release his brother, he will trust you,” I whisper back.
“I’m going to win your trust too. I want you to have faith in me. I have faith in you. I’ve had faith in you for a very long time.” He’s quiet for a second. His breathing has quickened, and his eyes change abruptly. Gone is that sense of distant authority, and in this moment he’s just a young man, a human being, and the electricity between us is too much. In an instant, he turns his face and his lips meet mine.
I close my eyes. It is so light. Barely there, yet I can’t help but want a little more. With Day, there’s a fire and a hunger between us, even anger, some deep desperation and need. With Anden, though, the kiss is all delicacy and refined grace, aristocratic manners, power, and elegance. Pleasure and shame wash through me. Can Day see this through the cams? The thought stabs at me.
It lasts for mere seconds, then Anden pulls away. I let out a breath, open my eyes, and let the rest of the room come back into focus. He’s spent enough time here—any longer and the guards outside might start to worry. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he says, bowing his head slightly before standing up and straightening his coat. He’s pulled back into the shelter of formality, but there’s a slight awkwardness in his stance, and a faint smile on the edges of his lips. “Get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
