by Anna Jarzab
“Why does he say that stuff?” Callum asked.
“Not sure,” I said. “They say it’s like his brain is stuck on repeat.”
“So they don’t mean anything, the things he says?” I shook my head. “Are you sure?”
I wasn’t, but if they did mean something, I couldn’t fathom what. “Who am I to argue with the doctors?”
“His daughter, for one. The princess, for another.” He shifted a little in my direction. “Did he call you ‘Juli’ just now?”
I nodded. “It’s what my friends and family call me.”
“Can I call you that?” His voice was low and deep. I was trying not to notice, but Callum had the good looks of someone who ought to be on television, with his tousled brown curls and bright blue eyes. No wonder his Earth-analog was an actor. Up close it was distracting how attractive Callum was.
“Are we friends?” I was flirting and I knew it, but it was hard to resist.
“I hope so.”
I smiled. “Then yes, you can call me Juli. Do your friends call you Cal?”
Callum laughed. “If you mean my family, then yes. But only Sonny.”
“Then that’s what I’ll call you,” I told him. He seemed pleased by this.
Callum appraised the king. “Do you even think he knows we’re here?”
“I just hope he knows he’s not alone.” I might not have been the king’s daughter, but his condition just about broke my heart.
“I’m sorry, Juli,” Callum said. He gazed at me with such tenderness that I had to avert my eyes, embarrassed by the intimacy of the look. “This must be so hard for you.”
He glanced around the room at all the blinking monitors and intravenous tubes. “Almost losing your father, and then seeing him like this, day in and day out. It’s so unfair.” He paused. “They told me it was Libertas that shot him. Is that true?” His eyes returned to me, but this time there was a slyness in his expression that took me off guard. He was fishing for information, something I hadn’t expected out of the sweet, unassuming prince. It was actually a relief, to see that he had hidden undercurrents; the chances of him getting along with the real Juliana were greatly increased by this development. Still, Thomas and Gloria had both warned me not to speak to Callum about Libertas.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Callum said, when several moments had passed wherein I said nothing. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. My father died when I was a kid, from a long illness, and I’ve never really gotten over it.”
“I can imagine,” I said quietly. I couldn’t help but think of my own parents, and how deeply I still felt their loss. Someday, Juliana’s father would also die, sooner rather than later. At least I hadn’t had to watch my parents suffer and fade away. Were Thomas and I the lucky ones, too young to remember the bad as well as the good?
“You think they’re always going to be there,” he continued, rubbing the edge of his jaw thoughtfully. His voice sounded lost and far away. “To protect you. To give you advice. And then they’re not and they never will be again.”
I dug my nails into my palm, determined not to cry. I tried to think of something else, anything else, to get my mind off my parents, but the images of their faces refused to fade.
The door to the room slid open, and I was grateful to see Thomas on the other side of it. Callum turned, and I quickly dabbed at the corners of my eyes with my fingertips.
“Is everything all right?” I asked Thomas.
“Everything’s fine,” he said. “The queen would like to see you in her study; she wants to go over the seating arrangements for the wedding and the ball.”
“You can tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said. He nodded and left the room, but not without first glancing warily over at Callum.
“The ball?” Callum shot me a questioning look. “I thought that was tonight?”
I shook my head. “That’s the concert. Your concert.” Callum rolled his eyes good-naturedly. It had been the queen’s idea to bring in the Columbia City Orchestra to perform on the Rambles, the enormous park that served as something of a backyard for the Castle. Earlier, Callum and I saw the bandshell being constructed from the king’s bedroom window. The orchestra was in honor of Callum’s arrival in the UCC; his love and appreciation of classical music had preceded him.
“The queen is throwing us a pre-wedding gala.” I’d been briefed on all this, but I was careless about wedding details and it had slipped my mind. “It’s in three days. I hope you brought your tux.”
Callum grinned. “Of course.”
“Great. Well, I’d better go. The queen hates it when I don’t come running.” I put aside The Odyssey. “Sorry to abandon you, although I’m sure you have better things to do than sit here all day listening to me stumble over the word Charybdis.”
He laughed. “As it happens, I don’t.” As I passed him, he caught my hand in his.
“In a few days this will all be over,” he reassured me. I stared at his hands. His fingers were long and thin, the better to play the piano with, but his nails were short and uneven—he had a nail-biting habit. “Then we can do whatever we want. We’ll be free.”
“You’re quite an optimist,” I said with a smile. It was refreshing to be around someone so hopeful, even when I knew he was wrong.
“Can’t help it.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “That’s how I was born.”
I wanted to share his faith in the future, but mine was waiting for me elsewhere, in a different world far from this one. Assuming, of course, that I was lucky enough to find my way back to it.
I emerged from the queen’s study two and a half hours later, my brain liquefied by the experience of listening to the queen, Gloria, and half a dozen other wedding planners argue over outstanding details of a wedding I wouldn’t even be there to experience. Not so long from now, I would be back in Hyde Park, far away from all this madness.
Except … I couldn’t keep from imagining what it would be like when I returned. It had been several days since anyone had last seen me; there would certainly be questions, questions I couldn’t answer. They would think I was insane if I’d told them where I’d gone; the only person who might believe me was Granddad, but even that wasn’t guaranteed. There was also the question of Grant: could I really go home before they managed to send him back as well? The thought of leaving him to fend for himself in Aurora twisted me up into guilty knots. Much as I wanted to go back, there was no possibility of returning to my old life; Earth wouldn’t be the sanctuary I desperately yearned for. And I wouldn’t be the same person I was when I left.
Did I even want to leave? Of course I do, I thought. Why would I ever want to stay in Aurora? But I knew there would be things that I missed. After all the time we’d spent together, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that I might never see Thomas again. He’d woven his way into the fabric of my life, of who I was, and the thought of separating from him struck me hard. That’s just because you can’t live here without him, I told myself. Once you’re home, you won’t need him anymore. But no matter how logical it sounded, that didn’t seem quite like the truth.
Where was Thomas? Normally he stationed himself right outside the door of any room I was in, but as I emerged from the queen’s study I didn’t see him anywhere. I waited for a few moments, thinking he may just have gone off briefly and would soon return, but when that didn’t happen I decided to make my way back to Juliana’s bedroom myself. My visions of Juliana had taught me the layout of the Castle well, and I felt confident that I could navigate it just fine.
I’d just rounded the corner when I saw Thomas at the other end of the corridor, deep in conversation with a young man I’d never met before. He was tall, but not as tall as Thomas, lean but slight compared to Thomas’s broad shoulders and muscular physique, with brown hair that had outgrown its short, cropped cut and needed to be trimmed. He was dressed in a black suit, like Thomas, which told me that he was KES, but that was all I
could gather from so far away.
“What are you doing here, Lucas?” Thomas was struggling to keep his voice low, but the acoustics in the hallway were such that I could still hear them from where I was standing. So this was Thomas’s brother, Lucas, the actual biological spawn of the General and Alice Mayhew. Naturally, I was very interested in this conversation.
“I’m here to see Juliana,” Lucas said. The casualness of Lucas calling Juliana by her first name made me wonder just how well he knew her; I’d learned at dinner my first night that the General and the king had been friends most of their lives, so it was possible—even probable—that their children might be acquainted. Thomas had told me in passing that he’d met her a few times in the two years between his adoption and being shipped off to Blackbriar, but Lucas, being the General’s biological son, would’ve had much more time in which to get to know her.
“Princess Juliana,” Thomas reminded him sharply. Lucas rolled his eyes. “We’re not kids anymore. And she’s busy. Since when do you have clearance to just wander around the Castle like this? Aren’t you supposed to keep to the Tower like a good little support agent?”
I wasn’t really sure what all that meant, but I could tell from Thomas’s tone that he was wound up and possibly baiting his brother. Lucas didn’t rise to it, and I remembered that he was four years older. Maybe this was their relationship dynamic—Thomas, the younger, always acting defensive, and Lucas, the elder, looking for ways to defuse him. It didn’t match up with what I already knew about Thomas’s personality and character, but I was well aware of how certain people could bring out a different side of you.
“Then the General didn’t tell you,” Lucas said. I found it telling that even the General’s natural born son didn’t call him “Dad,” or even “Father.” “I’ve been promoted.”
“To active?” Thomas’s eyes widened in surprise, fiddling with his KES ring.
“Not yet. But maybe soon. The General said he might be able to arrange for me to take my trials in October.” Thomas’s jaw tightened; this information wasn’t sitting well with him.
“Don’t be jealous,” Lucas teased. “There’s plenty of action out there for the two of us. If you ever find a way to get yourself reassigned, that is.”
“You assume I want to be reassigned. Maybe I like where I am.”
“Oh, come off it, T, you’re a glorified babysitter. You didn’t blow through the Academy just to end up holding the princess’s train while she traipses around the Castle, did you?”
Thomas shook his head, not in denial but in irritation. “What do you need her for?”
“I just wanted to say a quick hello,” Lucas told him. “And congratulate her on her upcoming wedding. Is that so horrible? You’re acting like you think I’ve got ulterior motives.”
“I’ll give her your message, okay? Just go back to the Tower and do your job, whatever that is.”
“Are you angry with me, little brother?” Lucas asked. “If this is about Mom, I’m sorry I interfered, but I really think—”
“Don’t start with that again,” Thomas warned him.
I’d heard enough of this. I wasn’t just going to hide around the corner and wait for them to come to blows over their personal issues. I stood at the head of the corridor and cleared my throat. They both looked up; Thomas tensed, but Lucas smiled as he turned to look at me and I got my first glimpse of his face.
“The truth is, Juli,” I heard him say, “the Monad isn’t even sure you have anything to tell us.”
I shut my eyes tight as things I had seen in earlier visions elbowed their way back into my mind. The underground bunker where Libertas had been holding Juliana, the wide fabric bracelet with the gold star tetractys the girl had been wearing on her wrist, and then Lucas’s face, peering at me smugly, his features illuminated by the harsh light of the overhead fluorescents. Him.
Oh my God, I thought in disbelief. Lucas is Janus.
“Your Highness,” Thomas said. “Agent Mayhew was just leaving.” He put a slight emphasis on Agent Mayhew, as if he was trying to inform me that Lucas was his brother.
I nodded, swallowing hard and forcing a smile. “Good afternoon, Agent Mayhew.”
I held my breath, anxious to see how Lucas was going to react to me. He knew I wasn’t Juliana. But then why had he been seeking me out? Was he going to expose me? Or did he just want me to know that he knew? Did he think I was just a look-alike, or was he aware of the tandem, and the fact that Juliana and I were analogs, that I was from another universe altogether? And, finally—how much did he know about Thomas’s involvement in my presence in Aurora? He didn’t seem to, from the way he’d been talking to Thomas earlier, but Lucas was a double agent—the god with two faces, Juliana had said, a reference I now understood—and there was no way for me to tell just at a glance what he was thinking or intending to do.
Lucas bowed his head and returned my polite smile. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding to Prince Callum, Your Highness.”
Yeah, I’m sure you do, I thought. “Thank you,” I said. I lowered my voice in a way that implied I was confiding something in him. “Although I have to tell you, I’m looking forward to having it over and done with. You can’t imagine how many boring meetings I’ve had to sit through while the queen and Gloria argue about place settings and flower arrangements and who can’t sit next to who because of what political scandal.” I sensed Thomas relax at my side.
The two-faced god grinned. “But I thought women liked planning weddings.”
“Well,” I said with a wry laugh. “Most women get to choose their husbands.”
“Your Highness, we need to go,” Thomas said. “Gloria wanted you back in your suite at four o’clock sharp for your fitting.”
“Yes, of course. It was good to see you, Lucas,” I said, extending my hand for him to shake. He took it, squeezing just a bit too hard. He looked into my eyes, and I could read his meaning in them: I know who you are. Or, rather: I know who you aren’t. “Thank you for your congratulations.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Lucas said. His eyes lingered on me a moment longer, then he turned, with a farewell nod to his brother, and walked away.
When the sound of his last footsteps had faded, I turned to Thomas, who was still staring after Lucas. I gave him a slight shake to get his attention.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lucas doesn’t usually come to the Castle—support agents don’t have the clearance. He said he’d just gotten promoted, but I can’t think—”
“Forget that,” I commanded. He narrowed his eyes, sensing my urgency. “You and I need to talk, now. Somewhere private.”
“Library?” Thomas suggested. I nodded.
“How’s it going with the prince?” he asked as we made our way.
“Good,” I said, grateful for the momentary distraction from what I was about to tell him. “He’s really nice. I think he’s lonely. Did you know that his mother wouldn’t let him go to school? This is his first time leaving the city he grew up in.”
“Queen Marian gets a lot of criticism from the press hounds about that. They say she does it to make sure that they’re weak and entirely dependent on her.”
“I think Callum might despise his mother,” I said.
“I don’t blame him.” Thomas looked like he was about to say something else, but he refrained. “You brought Callum in with you to see the king this morning. How do you think that went?”
“Callum lost his father when he was little,” I said. “He seems to understand what I’m going through. I mean—well, you know what I mean.”
“And there weren’t any problems with the king?”
“No. He just kept saying the same old stuff over and over again. You know: ‘Mirror, mirror,’ ‘touch and go,’ and that string of numbers …”
“One, one, two, three, five, eight,” Thomas said. “It’s from—”
“The Fibonacci sequence,” I finished for him.
“I know.” After about an hour of seating charts and arguments, I’d started to tune the queen out and for some reason the numbers floated up in my memory and snagged in my mind. They wouldn’t let go until I figured out what they were trying to tell me, which was that they weren’t random at all.
“You’re good,” Thomas said. “I had to look them up.”
“Granddad taught me to recite the sequence when I couldn’t get to sleep,” I told him. “That, and the exact value of pi. I can do that one to twenty-five decimal places.”
“Your granddad is quite the character,” Thomas said. I smiled. My upbringing had been eclectic to say the least, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything—well, almost anything.
“What do you think it means?”
Thomas shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe nothing. Could be just a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” I said.
“Neither do I,” Thomas agreed.
“The king keeps calling me ‘angel eyes,’ ” I continued. “Is that his pet name for Juliana?”
“No, it isn’t.” Thomas frowned. He locked eyes with me, and without even saying a word I knew we were thinking the same thing. Something was up. The Fibonacci sequence wasn’t a string of random numbers; it was an ordered progression that continued infinitely. Granddad called the Fibonacci sequence “magic numbers,” and they were. They occurred in nature all the time: in the spiraled scales of a pinecone, the arrangement of leaves on a stem, the curve of waves, and the ancestry of honeybees.
This was another lesson Granddad had taught me: The world is far less random than it appears. Once you started paying attention, patterns emerged where before you only saw chaos. So what was it that we were missing?
Twenty-Six
“What’s the matter?” Thomas asked, once he’d done a thorough sweep of the library for anyone who might be lurking in corners or behind bookshelves. “Did something happen with the queen?”
