“Vo—uh, the king is Changed?” Ross asked. “What’s his power?”
Min Soo laughed. “His hair went silver when he turned thirteen. Nothing so dramatic as your Change, Ross. You must be very proud of it.”
Her words acted on Ross like salt on a slug. He hunched his shoulders.
Min Soo leaned back, making herself non-threatening, and again deployed the Encouragement Tone. “How old were you? Did anyone in your family have a similar Change?”
Metal scraped against metal. Ross was clenching his fists, the one bare and the one encased in steel.
Min Soo said soothingly, “I know it can be difficult. Not only how people treat you. Sometimes powers themselves can be hard to adjust to. But here, we understand that. You’ll see on Opportunity Day.” She smiled. “Enjoy your day, Ross. We will talk again.”
Kerry leaped to her feet. Ross didn’t know how lucky he was to have been spared a lesson on social skills, followed by an excruciating role-play. But he looked more disturbed than he had since they’d pulled him out of the windowless room.
As soon as they were safely outside, Kerry said, “I could use a workout. Want to spar?”
Her reward was a fleeting moment when Ross’s black eyes met hers, and a hint of a smile. “Sure.”
Chapter Fifteen. Gold Point.
Ross
A guard escorted Ross to his room after the most uncomfortable dinner of his life. The food was wonderful, but he couldn’t enjoy it while he was trapped between Voske and Min Soo. The more they pretended to be friendly, the more Ross worried about what they wanted from him.
He closed the door, relieved to finally be free of spying eyes. Or was he? Well, Voske was welcome to watch him sit on the bed. Ross hoped he’d bore the king to death. As for the bars, he’d test them when it was dark.
A new shirt and pants waited on the bed. He’d been measured before his sparring session with Kerry, but he hadn’t imagined the clothes would arrive this fast. He’d never owned new clothes, much less ones made specifically for him.
The shirt was fine cotton, dyed red. The color reminded him of blood, of the crystal shard he’d cut out of his arm, and the scarlet tree it had grown into. The trousers were black linen. Without even holding them up to himself, he knew they would fit better than anything he had worn in his life. He wished he had Dr. Lee’s old shirt and jeans back.
He concealed the blood-red shirt underneath the pants, then surveyed the room. It was decorated with framed pictures—every one an artifact—of huge towers of glass and metal, and metal carriages on wide, smooth roads. Two whole cases were filled with as many ancient books as they had in the entire library at Las Anclas. They were held in place with wooden replicas of the prehensile-tailed Gold Point horses. The tails curved upward, forming holders for jars of potpourri. The scent of the dried flowers and spices reminded Ross of Jennie’s room. Jennie would have loved the books, too.
He had a sudden, overwhelming sense of something missing. Like there was a hole inside him, and he was falling into it.
He took off his gauntlet and laid it on the table. Since he’d convinced his captors that he needed it to use his hand at all, he had to wear it all the time. He let his left hand hang limp as he walked to the electrical switch and turned off the light.
Hoping the spy thing couldn’t see in the dark, Ross pushed and twisted at the bars on the windows, careful not to make a sound. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t budge.
He returned to the bed, wishing he was in Las Anclas with Jennie and Mia. One girl on each side, the way they’d walked into the town square for the dance. Where were they now? Jennie would probably be with the Rangers, and Mia? Ross liked to think of her in her cozy cottage, working on some weapon from his ancient book.
Mia! Ross remembered the mystery tool she had dropped into his backpack. Though his weapons had been taken, the tool was still there. Voske’s people must not have known what it was, either. In the one glimpse Ross had gotten of it, it had looked like a chunk of steel bar.
Ross tiptoed to his backpack and took out Mia’s tool. The days he’d spent blind had given him lots of practice in memorizing locations.
The tool had a hairline seam, as if Mia had joined two pieces of steel. He tried to twist it apart, but it didn’t budge. Maybe she had intended it as a weight so he could punch harder when he held it. But he couldn’t close his fist over it. When he gripped it like a club, it fit perfectly. But a club that small would be less useful than a rock picked up off the ground—which was undoubtedly why Voske had let him keep it.
But it fit so well. And Mia had measured his hands for the gauntlet. She’d obviously made the tool just for him. Experimentally, he held it as if it was a club, and swung it lightly. It wasn’t quite as heavy as it should be if it was solid steel.
He stepped to the center of the room and swung the tool as if he was trying to hit someone with it. With a soft snick, something snapped within the rod. A set of hidden segments slid out and locked into place. Ross ran his free hand along the steel baton that Mia’s weapon had become. It was as long as his forearm, giving him much more reach than he would have with his fists. He wished Mia was there so he could kiss her.
He gave it a few practice swings, then collapsed it against his palm. The segments slid neatly into place. Ross gave it a twist until it heard a click, and it returned to its original state.
Ross returned it to his pack. He was still smiling when he fell asleep.
*
He awoke to sunlight warming his face. For a glad moment he thought he was back in Las Anclas, under his glass ceiling. Then he saw the bars across the windows.
He pulled the covers over his head. He’d rather go hungry than have another meal with that smiling king who put people’s heads on poles, and Min Soo and her sweet-toned questions prying into things Ross didn’t want to think about.
Someone banged on the door. Kerry called, “Ross? Breakfast is ready.”
Ross was tempted to ignore her. But what would it prove if Voske sent somebody to haul him out of bed? He might as well pretend to cooperate while things were easy. It surely wouldn’t be easy for long.
“Be right there,” he called.
He changed into the new clothes, trying not to look at that blood-red shirt.
Ross opened the door, then froze. Kerry wore the same colors he did, but her outfit was fit for a princess. Her high-collared scarlet blouse and black pants were heavily embroidered and tightly fitted, and she wore high-heeled black boots. A gold tiara encircled her crown of braids, and her ruby earrings sparkled like his crystal tree.
She laughed, gesturing at her clothes. “Do you like them? I designed them myself.”
He’d been staring. His ears burned. “They’re nice,” he muttered.
Her parents were terrifying, but Ross didn’t mind Kerry. Other than the food, the only thing he’d enjoyed in Gold Point had been sparring with her. She was as almost as good as Jennie, though her style was completely different. Jennie liked fancy techniques; Kerry liked simple ones that only worked if they were done perfectly. As long as they sparred, he could almost forget that he was a prisoner.
In Las Anclas, everyone dressed up for dances. “Do you dance at Opportunity Day?”
Kerry’s brows shot up. “Dance?” she repeated, like she’d never heard the word before. “No. Oh, we have our fair share of dances, but those are . . . other festivals.”
Ross knew he’d said the wrong thing, but had no idea why.
In the royal dining room, Voske sat at the head of the table, wearing a long black silk tunic slit up the sides and embroidered in red. His trousers were also black with red embroidery, vanishing into glossy high boots.
Min Soo wore a high-waisted full skirt of floating white silk and a short, wrapped white blouse edged with red. Her bun of black hair was pinned with a gold clip. Three women sat with her. Two wore red trimmed with white. The third was in a military uniform and wore her hair like Jennie did, in short black braids
tipped with beads. Every bead was red or white.
There were seven children at the table, all in red trimmed with black. The oldest three, two girls and a boy, were around eleven or twelve. They stared curiously at Ross, and the smaller girl waved. The younger children didn’t pay Ross much attention after the first look. Ross was hoping he could sit with them when Voske indicated a chair near himself. Kerry sat between them.
Ross wondered uneasily why he’d been given the same colors as the royal family—and even the same split of red and black as Kerry, the crown princess. Voske couldn’t possibly mean to put Ross on the same level. Maybe it was another fake-friendly thing.
“Ross, meet the rest of my family.” Voske introduced everyone not only by name, but by Change. All four of his wives and the three oldest children had powerful Changes, though the toddler girl only had feathered eyebrows and a little boy could make flowers bloom. Two of the younger kids got a fond, “Not Changed yet.”
The table setting had no sharp knives, nor was any food served that would have required one. Everyone had a fork with blunted tines, except for Ross, who was only offered a spoon. Voske wasn’t taking any chances on being attacked at the table. Ross had spent half his life without tableware, so he had no trouble eating. While he dug into the pancakes, he thought up ways to kill Voske with a spoon.
The soldier woman kissed Princess Fiona, the one who had waved at Ross, and stood up. “Enjoy Opportunity Day. I’m off to the garrison.”
“Float me!” squeaked the little princess, who had the same rich brown skin and huge brown eyes as her mother. “I want a float before you go!”
With a laugh, her mother took her hand. Fiona floated off the ground and rose as high as her mother could reach, flapping her free arm and making bird calls. Her braids stuck straight out, as if she were underwater. Her older half-siblings rolled their eyes as if they were far too mature for flying. Ross couldn’t help thinking that it looked fun.
Fiona’s mother deposited her back on the ground, straightened her blouse, and left with a wave.
Voske turned to Ross. “Min Soo has offered to give you a tour of the palace.”
Min Soo beamed at him. “The tapestries in the ballroom alone are worth an hour’s contemplation.”
Voske continued, “Or you could accompany Kerry to her tutors. Which lessons are you having today?”
“Public speaking,” Kerry said.
Ross would prefer the tapestries—but not Min Soo. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do any public speaking.
“Or you could explore the town,” Voske said. “We want you to see what it has to offer. Think about how you’d like to fit yourself in.”
Ross’s anger must have showed. Voske’s lips twitched, but he opened his hands in a friendly gesture. “Yes, you had a rough start, but you have everything you need to be happy here. Don’t worry about the people you left behind. I specifically ordered my scouts not to kill your friends.”
Ross thought bitterly, Am I supposed to be grateful?
Voske went on, “They fought hard to save you, and their loyalty should not be rewarded with death, don’t you think?”
He does expect me to be grateful. Ross wanted to get as far away from Voske as he could, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “I’d like to explore the town.”
“You may ride one of the royal mounts.” Voske lifted his hand casually to a servant. The man vanished out the door.
Horses were almost as bad as public speaking. “I don’t mind walking.”
“Gold Point is far too big to walk through,” Voske replied. “You have to be back in time for the ceremony.”
“How far can I go?”
Voske smiled. “The walls. If you see anything you want in a store, just take it. We know you have nothing to trade. Yet.”
A guard escorted Ross outside. There a servant held the bridle of a shimmering silver horse, like a metal statue come to breathing, tail-twitching life. Ross didn’t much care for horses, but this was the most beautiful animal he’d ever seen. So that was what Voske had meant by the royal mounts. Like the other horses in Gold Point, it had a tail like a cat.
The silver horse tossed its head as he approached, then laid back its ears. Yuki had told Ross that horses did that when they were angry. Hoping that this horse wouldn’t be a repeat of Old Betsy, who had walked him into a saguaro on his first ride at Las Anclas, Ross approached cautiously.
He tried to remember Yuki’s lessons as he swung up into the saddle. But before he could sit down, a glittering silver tail wrapped around his ankle and tried to yank him down the other side. Ross clutched the saddle.
The servant yelled, “Sally! Stop it!” To Ross, he said, “I’m so sorry, sir. She never does that.”
Sir? The guy was his age, but he sounded so anxious that Ross’s shoulders tensed. Remembering something Yuki had told him, he said, “She probably knows I don’t like riding. It’s okay.”
He took the reins in his right hand and tried to close his legs around the horse’s barrel with a sense of authority. Sally snorted and sidled. He wasn’t fooling her any.
Ross tightened his legs. Sally’s ears twitched back, then forward. Ross let his breath out as she began to move forward amicably enough. The servant turned away.
Whap! The tail smacked Ross between the shoulder blades. But he’d been expecting something like that. He ignored it.
Sally broke into a trot. Ross picked up the rhythm, settling into the up-and-down. Sally seemed to sense that he was more comfortable, and didn’t hit him again.
Though he was alone, he had to assume that Voske was watching him somehow. At the very least, anything he said would surely be reported back.
He’d already seen the heavily guarded main gates when he’d arrived with Greta’s kidnap team, but he wanted to see the rest of the walls, and try to sense the singing trees around the ruined city south of Gold Point. But if he rode straight south, Voske would guess he was thinking of climbing the walls.
So he picked a random direction, riding past whitewashed wooden houses with porches and vegetable gardens. Many were bordered by picket fences, all exactly alike. The people seemed ordinary, until they spotted him and gave him a forced smile and a salute. It was as if they knew they were being watched, too. It was eerie.
Ross entered a wide street full of shops and people. A teenager whose skin glowed in patterns like a butterfly’s wings stood with his arm around a girl who looked like a Norm. They were eating tacos and chatting with another teenage girl. If she’d worn bangs, they would have hidden her Change, but her clipped hair exposed a ridged forehead like an iguana’s back.
No one stared or glared at the Changed teens and their maybe-Norm friend, but the teenagers all stared when they spotted Ross. Then they saluted him, with grins that switched on like electric lights.
Ross wanted to run. But where could he go? He waved awkwardly, then guided Sally across the street. Was everyone acting so weird because he wore the royal colors? Or had some order been sent out in advance? He glanced back. The teens had returned to their conversation, but the butterfly boy spotted his gaze. Dropping his taco, he instantly saluted again. The girls followed.
Ross turned hastily away, trying not to look at anyone. The shop windows were a trader’s dream: bales of wool, linen, cotton, and even silk; furniture; leather goods, furs, pots and pans, porcelain and crockery in a vast array of colors; paper goods of all kinds. The only place he’d seen paper for sale in Las Anclas, it was half a shelf at the general store. Here, he saw three shops selling nothing but paper and books.
A stream of kids ran out of a candy shop, sucking lollipops. One had bright orange hair that rippled of its own accord, like the sea anemones in the tide pools at Las Anclas. It took Ross a moment to figure out what was odd about the middle-aged woman who followed them, munching sweets from a paper bag. She walked normally, but her feet hovered several inches above the street.
There seemed to be more Changed people in Gold Point than in La
s Anclas—definitely more people with visible Changes. And there wasn’t any blatant prejudice against them, or against Norms, either, as far as he could tell. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, disliking the idea that anything could be good about Gold Point.
Sally’s tail whipped out and smacked him across the ear.
Ross dismounted by a bookshop. The front window held an ancient book, opened to display a colored illustration of a horseless carriage. There was no hitching post, and he wondered what he was supposed to do with Sally.
A soldier hurried out of a dry-goods shop and saluted Ross. “Shall I hold her for you, sir?” the woman asked.
Ross’s neck tightened at the word sir. “Sure. Thanks.”
As he surrendered the reins, he became aware of every single person on the street watching him. Smiling. The soldiers saluted him. The back of his neck crawled.
He usually avoided fancy shops—the shopkeepers always eyed him like they expected him to steal something—but he had to get away from all those smiles. He hurried into the bookshop.
An old man with a pair of feathery antennae stood behind the counter, talking to a customer. Then Ross entered and everyone fell silent, even the customers who’d been chatting with each other.
The old shopkeeper bustled forward. “May I help you, sir?”
Ross edged up to the book in the front window. “Just looking.”
The man carefully lifted the fragile book. “It’s yours, sir. Shall I wrap it up for you?”
Ross backed away. “No!”
The old man’s antennae twitched in dismay. “There’s no charge. It would be an honor for you to have it. Or any other books you might want.”
Ross knew the value of that book. And Jennie would love it. But tempting as it was, he didn’t want to be beholden to Voske. Besides, the bookseller obviously had no choice. It might as well be armed robbery.
“No, thanks. I—I don’t have anywhere to put it.” Ross fled the store before the man could push the book into his hands.
The soldier waiting with Sally saluted him again. The passersby froze again, staring and then giving him those awful fake smiles. Ross ducked into an alley, then another, until he spotted a park with concealing shrubbery.
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