Lotus and Thorn

by Sara Wilson Etienne

  It’s what the prince must’ve felt like as he walked through Briar Rose’s paralyzed city—Kisaengs and Curadores all mesmerized. Their eyes followed me as I cut through the crowd. Until, finally, I was standing in front of Edison.

  He was with Marisol, her arm looped through his. For a second, I met her gaze and what I saw there disturbed me—resignation and a deep sadness. But there was no time to worry about Marisol. I lifted my eyes to Edison, facing him for the first time in two weeks. Trying not to flinch as I remembered the white-hot pain of my body slamming into the wall.

  He took in every inch of me, and though I felt the heat of his eyes as they raked across my body, they no longer burned me.

  “Dance with me?” I stretched out a sparkling hand and Edison took it.

  Riya transitioned into a different song, a quicker one that soared and flitted. People stepped back, making an instant dance floor for us. Marisol was swallowed up by the crowd as Edison glided me around the room. My feet barely touched the floor as he led completely, his arms propping me up, moving me where I should go.

  “You’re radiant tonight,” said Edison with a satisfied smile. “I’m glad you decided to join us again.”

  There was something breathtaking about basking in that smile—being someone’s dress-up doll. Being the very reflection of what someone craved. And I realized that this was the Leica that Edison had wanted all along. The fighter, yes . . . but broken.

  • • •

  Lying in bed later that night, I let myself wonder when Edison first decided he would have me. Was it while he watched me training out in Pleiades? Or when he heard my voice over the radio? Or when he came back for me in the Indigno camp?

  Then I silenced the questions. I would no longer try to guess Edison’s mind. Instead, I closed myself to it. And like Marisol had counseled that first night, I made myself into the Leica that Edison dreamed of.

  “We should do something to celebrate our reunion.” I kept my voice light, kissing his cheek.

  Edison’s arm was flung around me—heavy, anchoring me to the mattress.

  “What sort of celebration did you have in mind?” Edison ran his hand along my arm, across my fingers.

  “In the fairy tales they always have parties with masks and elaborate dresses.” I knew it was a risk to ask him so soon, but Dia de los Muertos was about a week away. So it was now or never.

  “I always imagined you hated that kind of thing.” There was an indulgent amusement in his voice. I froze, thinking I’d blown it.

  What would this new Leica do? I stuck my lip out a little, making my eyes wide, and said, “It’s just that Dia de los Muertos is coming up and I can’t stand the thought of hearing all those fireworks and not having any fun myself.”

  I was sure the pouting was too much—that he wouldn’t buy it.

  Edison stared at me. Taking in my whole face. And then he smiled. Accepting my lie as the truth he so profoundly wanted to believe.

  “Of course, you shall have your festival. You shall have whatever you want, sweet Leica.” Edison cupped his hand under my chin. “I hadn’t realized how much you missed your home. Anything to make you happy again.”

  • • •

  When I opened my eyes the next morning, Edison was still in my room—but he was staring at me from a nearby chair. I instinctively pulled the covers up to my throat. How long had he been sitting there, watching me?

  “I missed you, Leica.” He was in a much different mood from the night before. He leaned over, tucking my hair behind my ear. “We’re the same, you and I. We were meant to be together.”

  I saw the truth of it in his eyes as he came and sat on the edge of my bed, folding his hand into mine. Our fingers intertwining. He believed what he was saying. I forced myself not to pull away as he kissed my forehead. “I have something for you,” he said.

  “What?” My attempt at excitement came out as a squeak, as I remembered the last “present” he gave me.

  He handed me a long, thin box with a ribbon around it. Inside, lying on a satin cushion, was a syringe with a thick needle. Fear pumped through my veins. Was I about to join Taschen down in the ward?

  “This is Grimm’s tracker,” Edison said. “I want you to have it.”

  “Thank you?” I didn’t mean it to come out as a question, but the image of Grimm’s body lying crushed on my table flooded my mind. Wires and microchips covered with blood. Had Edison killed him for this?

  Riya’s words came back to me: There’s the courage it takes to fight . . . But there’s also the courage to endure. It didn’t matter what happened next. It didn’t matter what was in that needle, I’d do whatever it took to save my sister.

  “Come here. I’ll help you,” Edison said, patting his knees. I got out of bed and obeyed, sitting on his lap. He threaded one arm around my waist, and in the mirrors, I watched him bring the needle up, so it was hovering behind my right shoulder. “Hold still.”

  There was a flash of pain just above my shoulder blade and an ache deep in my neck muscles. Then it was over and Edison was kissing the wound on my back, my blood red on his lips.

  “There now. I’ll never lose you again.”

  CHAPTER 40

  “SURELY MY KNIFE has better things to do than make calaveras.” I sat on the grass cutting strips of gauzy fabric to make papier-mâché skull masks.

  Two days had passed since Edison had inserted the tracker and it was already driving me crazy.

  “But you do it so well!” Oksun gave me her best deadpan look.

  I flung a strip at her. We’d called a meeting of the Kisaeng fighters just before dawn and I’d told them everything. About the missing Kisaengs. The infected Citizens. And the experimentation. Then Oksun told them the plan.

  Now I looked around at the laughing, smiling Kisaengs in the courtyard—it was hard to believe it was the same group of women. There had been a fire to their rage when we told them. Fighting sticks gripped in their fists. Stony faces incised with righteous indignation. And here they were hours later, stringing together bright orange and pink paper flowers. Showing off bits of half-made dresses. I reminded myself that these women specialized in creating fantasy.

  And that was why this was going to work. The courtyard was being transformed into a festival grounds. Kisaengs were already stringing up banners of colorful flags—turquoise, pink, and yellow filling the open space. The reprocessors had been set to synthesize multitudes of twinkle lights. Cheerful orange and yellow marigolds were being constructed from intricately folded fabric, plastic explosives artfully tucked into the pleats of bright cloth.

  June soundlessly glided up to us and started cutting lengths of cloth next to me on the grass. I looked over at Marisol just in time to see her glance away. The sisters had sequestered themselves on the far side of the courtyard.

  I hadn’t even attempted to invite June to the meeting this morning. She was harder to contact because, unlike most of the Kisaeng fighters, who lived in dorms, June had her own small house. And I wasn’t sure how close an eye Marisol or Edison kept on her.

  But it was more than that. I didn’t want to force June’s hand. She’d risked a lot to support me the day after Edison’s attack—regardless of the political fallout—and for that reason, I trusted her. But if she joined the fight, I wanted it to be of her own free will.

  June was the kind of person who noticed everything. I had no doubt that she would see for herself that this was more than a festival. And, as she had done now, would come to us if she wished.

  She worked beside me in silence for a few minutes, making a neat stack of cotton strips. When she finally spoke, it was as if we were in the middle of an ongoing conversation. “Did you know they wanted to kill me when I was born?”

  “The Abuelos?” I’d heard rumors of babies “disappearing,” but I hadn’t believed it. There was a sick twist in my stomach a
s I looked at my friend. And then at my own hands.

  “Yeah. When I was a week old, the Abuelos brought my mother in front of the council and told her to take me out to Tierra Muerta and return me to God. To assure him that we had heard his judgment and vowed to do better.”

  “What did she say?”

  “My mom . . .” June shook her head in disbelieving admiration. “She walked over to one of the guards, who was a friend of the family, and said, ‘Hold June for a minute, will you?’ Then stood in front of the council and said, ‘Do what you want to me, but if God wants my baby, he can come here and take her.’”

  I imagined the scene. A guard cooing at baby June, her mother defiant in front of the council. “They must’ve been . . . uncomfortable.”

  “I would’ve given anything to see it!” June’s eyes shone with a fierce pride. “The Abuelos explained to her that in my Corrupted form, I wouldn’t be able to ‘contribute to Pleiades’ salvation.’ But my mom simply told them I would work in the gardens.

  “And for as long as I can remember, that’s where I was . . . right by her side, weeding and harvesting. In fact, I was particularly well suited for it, being just the right height and all. But no matter how hard I worked, the Citizens never let me forget what I was . . . Corrupted.” There was an undercurrent of rage in June’s voice and I wondered what it had cost her to temper it with sweetness all these years.

  “The Dome is better, but I’ve still never felt like my own person.” June ran her finger around the rim of her ornate seat. “What I’m saying is . . . I can be more than just a novelty.”

  “Can I see it?” I asked, and June scooted herself off the metal seat and handed it to me. “How does it work?”

  “Works on the same magnetized system as the magflys and the flys. While I was sedated in isolation, they inserted a tiny chip into my brain and synced it up with the seat. I think left and it goes left. I think up and it goes up . . . though not very far.”

  “I wonder if that particular limitation could be adjusted.” I looked at her sideways. “How do you feel about reconnaissance?”

  June gave me a slow smile. “Like I was born for it.”

  • • •

  So Riya smuggled the chair into the Complex, and overnight, the Mothers fixed up June’s board so it would go much higher than it was supposed to. I didn’t say so, but I was relieved to have a way to get eyes on what was happening that wasn’t dependent on Ada and the Dome’s systems.

  Riya had more to report from Ada that day as well. “They’ve decided that the most obviously pregnant women will evacuate the children into the tunnels in case things get violent.”

  I nodded. “As long as the wards remain sealed off by the decontamination portals, they should be fine.”

  “The rest of them will dress like Kisaengs in costumes and calavera masks and get into position to detonate the charges around the Dome.”

  Ada herself would be focused on getting control of the Dome’s systems—first from the Mothers’ Complex, then ultimately from the main computer room in the Genetics Lab. The hope was, if we could seize control of its vital functions—power, communications, transportation—then we wouldn’t have to take the Dome by physical force.

  “And you told them, right? Maximum effect . . .”

  Riya finished my mantra with me: “Minimum casualties.”

  I’d repeated the phrase over and over the last few days. Because I’d seen the rage on Ada’s face as she talked about their dead children. I’d seen it on the Kisaengs’ faces after Edison had beat me. On Sarika’s when I told her about Tasch. On Lotus’s, even before she understood the depth of the Curadores’ treachery. And the same rage kindled my own heart.

  But if there was any hope at building a new world, then this had to be a rescue. Not a massacre.

  Reminding people of this was the most I could do. Because even though everyone reported in to me, I could do nothing practical myself. Sometimes I swore I could feel the tracker choking me, like a cord around my neck.

  It didn’t help that Edison was everywhere that week. He stopped by the Sanctum several times a day with his wide smile and his loud voice. And at night, he came to my room. At those times I wasn’t sure if I hated him or myself more.

  But most unnerving was when I took a walk by the lake or around the Promenade—just so I wouldn’t go crazy with waiting—and he came to meet me. Like he wanted to remind me he was watching. At least he’d dropped the ruse of the radio. I was sure I couldn’t focus on circuits and wires with him looming over me.

  On the evening before the attack, I convinced Edison that I needed time to finish up my dress. Channeling Marisol, I smiled coyly. “I want you to be surprised!”

  The rebellion was to have one final meeting at my house. And that night, even Ada risked coming. She sat on the floor of my bedroom, next to Riya, putting the finishing touches on a calavera that had been molded from her own face. The wide grin and painted black eye sockets made the skeleton gaunt and manic at the same time.

  Ada idly added purple petals to the vivid flowers decorating the forehead while we waited for June to come back from the tunnels. It’d been a risk, but we were hoping for some sign of Lotus and the Indignos. Without them, the rest of the plan was moot.

  “Ada, I’m putting in hidden dagger pockets for all the Mothers.” Riya was busy making last-minute alterations, her needle whipping in and out of the fabric. “And I’ve made them all hoopskirts like Leica’s, so no one will notice they’re pregnant. At least . . . not so much.”

  “It’ll be dark, so that’ll help too,” Ada said. “And they’ve all got their masks ready so they can blend in with the Kisaengs.”

  “Should fool people at a distance,” Oksun said from her spot on the bed. The whole mattress was covered with spools and thimbles and tiny props as she ran the scenario again and again. Preparing for different contingencies.

  I felt untethered. In the midst of my friends, I felt completely alone. Longing to hear news that Lotus was safe. Wishing I could see Nik. Just for a second.

  I stood up, heading to the front porch to see if I could spot June coming back. Then changing my mind, I headed out to the back balcony.

  The dark pressed in on me as I peered up, wishing I could see the stars through the hazy glass of the Dome. Ada came out, putting her hands on the railing and stretching her back. “He’s not coming.”

  “I know.” And I did know, but part of me still hoped.

  “But he’s not hiding anymore either.” There was a note of pride in her voice. “He just doesn’t want to take any chances. He understands how important tomorrow is.”

  “What’s he going to be doing? Do you know?” I wanted to be able to picture Nik as he moved through the night. As if that would keep him safe.

  “He’ll go down to LOTUS to see if he can help with the evacuation. He’s come up with something he’s hoping will reduce the shock of taking people off the machines. And he’s the only one that knows anything about that equipment.” Her voice was cautious, tiptoeing around unpleasant realities. Tiptoeing around Taschen.

  “Well, tomorrow I’ll be the same as Nik and Edison. Blood on my hands.”

  “Blood on all our hands. But I’d rather die fighting than live like some kind of livestock. I won’t have whoever’s in here”—she touched her pregnant belly—“grow up to be another Edison.”

  And I realized that Ada had changed since the last time I’d seen her. She’d said who, not what. That was the effect hope had.

  “I’m ba-aaaa-ack!” June’s voice drifted through the door and we hurried in to join the others. “I found the Indignos holed up just inside the entrance from the Reclamation Fields. And I brought back a bit more than news.”

  Lotus walked into the room, combing her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair—looking extremely self-conscious in a low-cut Kisaeng dress
. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so I settled for tackling her.

  “You’re here!” I said, hugging my sister as tight as possible. “How are you here?”

  June looked pleased with herself, swaying a little so her skirt swished in the air beneath her, her long black hair swinging with it. “I brought an extra dress with me and snuck her in through one of the decontamination portals. Figured we could use a firsthand report on the Indignos’ activity.”

  I couldn’t come up with the words, so I just said, “Thank you,” to June. Then to Lotus, checking her over. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

  Lotus had grown another inch or so and was officially tall, like Tasch—though I saw now that some of the other similarities between the two of them had been lost. Lotus’s face was narrower. Dominated by dark eyebrows and fierce eyes. As if the sheer force of Tasch’s death had reshaped Lotus’s countenance. At least she wasn’t quite as thin as last time I’d seen her.

  “I’d be better if I wasn’t wearing this contraption.” Lotus tugged at her dress, trying to get it to cover more of her cleavage.

  I laughed. I couldn’t get over how good it was to see her and I realized that I’d prepared myself for the possibility that I might not ever get to again. I grabbed her close, saying, “I found Tasch.”

  And this time, Lotus stopped messing with her dress and hung on. There were tears in her voice when she spoke. “I know . . . I still can’t believe she’s alive. I can’t even believe you are! All those months and no sign of you. I thought you were . . . I thought it was my—”

  I stopped her. “No, it was my choice. And it was the right one. You were right. And now we’re going to get her back.” And I let myself imagine it. The three of us, a family again.

  She nodded her head, her eyebrows knitting together, clearly trying not to lose it in a room full of strangers. Everyone suddenly got very busy with sewing and masks and anything but Lotus. And when Lotus finally spoke, her voice was calm.