by Krista McGee
“The whole city was worried about her. She was beloved. Our mother was everything Father was not: kind, generous, concerned about the welfare of others. Father knew her death could not come suddenly. Even though he believes in the sovereignty of the king, he recognizes that if the people are too unhappy, they could rebel. That would create more problems for him.”
“He poisoned her?”
“We specialize in pharmaceuticals.” Helen shrugs. “He worked with one of the developers. The developer was killed not long after Mother died.”
I want to ask her to stop. This is too horrible. Unspeakable. No wonder Helen is so sad.
“Alex and I snuck into her room one night when Father was out on a raid. She knew she was dying. She wanted us to know the truth. About everything. She was so sick. I think she was just holding on until she could see us.” Helen pauses, too emotional to continue. “She died the next day.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Helen uses her fingertips to wipe the tears from her eyes. “What could we do? I was fifteen; Alex was thirteen. We were so scared of the king. But at least we were allowed to grieve. And the whole city grieved with us. She had a beautiful funeral.”
“I am so sorry.”
Helen looks at me, her expression serious. “This is the family you are marrying into, Thalli. The king killed his own wife; he was willing to kill me. He is planning to kill you. And he won’t stop unless someone stops him. Alex and I agree on most things, but on this we are divided: The king will not be persuaded into any kind of peace with New Hope. He wants to conquer it. And he will stop at nothing—nothing—in order to accomplish that goal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I am standing on the most ornate transport I have ever seen. Alex called it a chariot. It is gold with huge wheels supporting a platform that is open in the back and closed in the front. A massive black horse is in front of it, with two golden ropes going from the back of the horse to my hands. I am nervous about being in control of such a large animal. I worry that he will run so fast I will topple over, the chariot crushing me.
But even that thought is more pleasant than thinking of the reason I am in this transport. It is my wedding day. The day I marry a boy I do not love to trick a king whom I fear. So much could go wrong. If Helen is right, we have to convince those in Athens to rise up against the king. If Alex is right, the king might be willing to listen to reason if it is couched in the right terms. But either way, we have only seven days to earn the people’s trust and come up with a plan. The feast held in our honor will begin here in Athens seven days after our wedding. Seven days from today.
I have avoided thinking of the wedding. It has not been difficult, considering all the other circumstances I have been forced to consider. But standing here, wearing the gown Alex’s mother wore, surrounded by palace guards, the reality of this suddenly comes into clear view.
I am going to be married. In a matter of hours. And John says that marriage is a promise to the Designer and it is to last until one of us dies. Weeks ago, I had imagined that if I ever got married, it would be to Berk. And it would be years from now. After we had settled in New Hope, established our lives there. I had dreams of teaching music to children. Learning more from John about the Designer. Never did I have dreams of becoming the princess of a city where the ruler is a tyrannical murderer.
“It is time.” The guard beside me motions for me to slap the ropes against the horse to begin the procession.
I almost fall as the horse moves forward, taking my arms with him. I relax my arms and bend my elbows as Alex advised me. It is hard to do. The horse is so strong. But we eventually find a rhythm. I keep one foot planted in front of the other so I don’t lean forward.
“Smile at the subjects.” Another guard motions toward the people.
This is an exciting day for them. A royal wedding does not happen often. I have been reminded of that several times this week. “Smile at the people. Nod. Accept their praise. Keep your elbows bent.”
Sometimes I think this is a dream—induced, perhaps, by the drugs Athens is famous for. It seems even less real than the simulations I was placed under at the State with the Scientists. I want to feel the back of my head to see if a hole is there, the way I tested to see if I was under their control. But I cannot spare either hand.
I wish this were a dream. The closer this chariot takes me to the palace, the less I want to go. I am not as brave as I thought. And I am not nearly as selfless as I pretend to be.
I have hardly seen Alex the last few days. I have gone through “beauty treatments” that seem much more like torture than treatment. All sorts of oils and vegetation have been placed on all parts of my body. My hair has been curled, straightened, and curled again. Hundreds of pins hold it in a beautiful style that, combined with all the pencils and powders layered on my face, makes me look less like myself than I have ever been.
They all tell me this is part of the royal treatment so I will be beautiful on my wedding day. But beauty is not worth all of this pain. Whatever I was before is just fine with me. Will Alex even recognize me under this façade?
I look around after being prodded once again by one of the guards. People are shouting, crying, throwing flowers. Alex says this wedding tradition dates back to the ancient Athens his grandfather was so enamored with. This isn’t like the wedding John spoke of. We are not in a church. I am not in white. And the Designer has not even been mentioned.
I think of the words John showed me, about a table being prepared in the presence of my enemies. Is this what that meant? But these people—smiling, crying, waving—they are not my enemies. Alex and Helen are certainly not enemies. It is just the king—their ruler. What would this city be like if he was removed from power? I look around at his guards. They will do whatever he says. Even kill people. Removing him from power will be impossible. He is far too protected. I close my eyes for a moment. Surely, the Designer has a plan.
“Greet your people.” The guard interrupts my prayer.
We reach the palace. Guards line each side of the entrance. Their swords are held above their heads to create a type of arch. It is an uncomfortable feeling, riding beneath these swords. What if the king instructed one of them to drop a sword on me? He could say that guard was a spy from New Hope, begin the war that way. I hold my breath until that danger is past. But the thought is there. What is to stop the king from killing me today? And what better time than now, when all the people are gathered to see it?
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” I feel the Designer with me, beside me. I will not fear.
The chariot stops. Alex is below me, dressed in purple from head to toe. He looks very handsome with his golden hair curling just above his shoulders and his smile directed at me. I am suddenly thankful that the king has a son my age, not twenty years older. I am sure I would not be feeling nearly so willing were that the case. He holds out his hand. He is smiling, but fear flickers in his eyes. I hand the ropes to a guard and step down, careful not to trip over the long skirt.
Music plays, but it is recorded music. It sounds stale. I imagined majestic sounds—brass and strings together. But this music matches the ceremony: forced, unnatural, fake.
Alex and I walk together toward the king. He is in full regalia: robes, a crown, even a scepter. If it were not so formal and frightening, I would laugh at the arrogance of it all.
“You look beautiful,” Alex whispers into my ear, his hand caressing my arm.
I need to remember that this is my wedding day. It might not be what—or when—I imagined. But I need to enjoy it. I will not get another.
“You look very handsome yourself.” I smile at my soon-to-be husband, meaning it.
The king opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Instead, we hear the sound of shouting from behind us. One voice in particular stands out from the others.
“Stop this now.”
Berk.
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br /> He is here.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Let her go.” Berk stares down the guards with all the swords.
Myriad emotions battle for space in my mind and heart. Anger seems to be winning. I have a plan. Alex and I have a plan. Berk has ruined it. He will reveal the truth of who I am. He will ruin the chances that we had to come to New Hope and negotiate peace. Once again, Berk has assumed the role of rescuer. But I do not need his rescuing.
“Who are you?” The king steps forward, between Alex and me.
“My name is Berk.” His voice is strong, angry. I have never heard him like this. “I escaped the State to find refuge in New Hope—”
“Then you are an enemy.”
“I came alone,” Berk says. “Unarmed. I came only for Thalli.”
I try to look past the throng of people. I was sure he came with others. But the voices I heard were not those of the men of New Hope. They were Athenians protesting. Berk is alone. He walked into Athens alone.
“You have interrupted a royal wedding, Berk.” The king waves his hand and the crowd parts. I see Berk now. His shoulders are slumped—he is exhausted. But he holds his head high.
“The bride cannot desire this wedding.” Berk steps forward and the king tenses beside me.
“To marry the future king of Athens is a great honor.”
“To be forced into any marriage is dishonorable.”
The crowd gasps. The king slams his scepter on the ground. Berk is close enough for me to see his eyes. They are on me. Gentle, concerned, questioning.
“Guards.” The king barely contains his anger. “Arrest this man.”
“No.” I grab the king’s sleeve, almost falling to my knees in the process. He will kill Berk. He will kill him and think nothing of it. I cannot allow that to happen. “Please. He means no harm.”
“He means no harm?” The king’s voice is so loud in my ear that I feel its vibrations deep in my skull. “He dares to enter my city uninvited, interrupt my son’s wedding, make demands of me?”
“He does not know the laws of this city.” I dare to look into the king’s face. It is red, his eyes bloodshot. “He only means to help.”
“We will deal with him later.” The king motions to the guards. “After the wedding.”
“No.”
I look at Berk. He has not spoken. His mouth is a thin line as the guards yank his hands behind his back.
“Father.” It is Alex. He is speaking low, moving closer to the king. “The moment has been sullied. I do not want this memory of my wedding day. Please allow us to postpone the festivities.”
Berk looks at me. He is asking me with his eyes if I am safe. I smile and nod, wanting him to know I have not been harmed, that I am concerned for him, not for me. I try not to think of what his appearance means to our plans. I try not to think that his appearance may mean we will both die. I cannot think that. The king is whispering to Alex. I catch only a few words of their exchange. Those words, though, give me hope.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The king’s voice is still loud, but it has changed in tone. No longer short, staccato, and angry; it is warm, legato. I still hear the anger underneath, but the people seem oblivious to it. “I apologize for this unwelcome interruption to this most special of days. My son has requested that his wedding be postponed. He wants to look back on his wedding day with nothing but fond memories of his people rejoicing and his bride glowing with love.”
Berk pulls away from the guards, but he is pulled back by his hair. His eyes close and he steps back once again. I cannot move.
“Therefore I have decreed that the festivities begun today will resume tomorrow.” The king motions to the crowd. “Enjoy today with your own families and return tomorrow at this same time to watch your prince marry.”
The people clap—a slow, tentative clap at first, turning into boisterous applause with shouts and whistles. Are the people drugged here to obey this king the way I was drugged earlier? How is it that so many people would so blindly follow this man unless they were drugged? Then I think of the State. We blindly followed the Scientists. But we were designed to do that. It was part of our makeup. Or was it? Perhaps it was simply conditioning. Like these people. If all a people ever know is blind obedience, perhaps this is the only response they are capable of giving. And perhaps just like in the State, anomalies are here too. Those who secretly refuse to obey.
“Take the prisoner to the holding chamber. I will deal with him personally.”
I want to run and throw myself between the guards and Berk, but I do not. If I do, I will lose any chance of being able to save him. So I stand and watch him be taken away, my chest heaving with unshed tears.
I will fear no evil. I will fear no evil. I repeat those words over and over, wanting them to be true. But I am failing. I am afraid, so very afraid. Deliverance seems impossible. Did the person who wrote those words ever experience anything like this? I wish John were here to tell me, to help me. But he is not here.
I have never felt so alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Please let me see him.” I am in Alex’s room now, begging him to take me to Berk. “I can’t let your father kill him. I can’t.”
Alex walks over to me, his eyes full of compassion. He places his hands on my shoulders and forces me to look in his eyes. “We can do nothing right now. But be assured—my father will not kill him.”
“How can you know?”
Alex removes his hands and looks at the ground.
“How, Alex?” It is my turn to force his gaze to mine. “How can you know that?”
Alex takes a deep breath. “He does not kill in secret.”
“What?”
“Punishment is very public here. Everyone must watch.”
“But your mother and Diana’s father?” They were not killed publicly.
“Father did not want their crimes discovered.” Alex moves to his couch and sits. “It would have been an embarrassment to him. But when his power is challenged—he goes to great lengths to ensure the people understand that will not be tolerated.”
I recall what Peter said about his parents—burned to death. I shudder at the thought. “What will he do to Berk?”
“We’ll think of something.” Alex looks at me again, pain in his eyes. “I promise.”
“Tell me the worst that could happen.”
“No, Thalli.” Alex rubs his face with his hands.
“I need to know the worst that could happen.”
“Why?”
I pause. “Because . . . I’d rather be prepared than be surprised.”
A small smile appears. “You’d make a good ruler.”
I will not allow him to change the direction of our conversation. “Tell me.” I move to sit next to Alex so I can hear the next words clearly.
“Father prefers torture. It isn’t enough to simply kill an enemy. He believes the people must be educated. They must know that disobedience comes at a high cost.”
“I thought perhaps they were drugged and that was why they were so compliant.”
“No, not drugged,” Alex says. “Not often, anyway. Fear is a far greater and longer-lasting method of maintaining control.”
“What kind of torture?”
“Please, Thalli.” Alex looks away. “There are some images that will never be erased from my mind. I don’t want you to be forced to imagine them.”
I want to press him, but he is right. He is trying to protect me. “How much time then?”
Alex pauses. “I don’t know. Sometimes Father makes the prisoners wait, starves them, makes them beg for death. Other times he wants them to come fighting.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Not often,” Alex says. “Once every five or six years, I suppose. People try to rebel. He finds their leader and . . .”
“What do you think he will do with Berk?”
I can see him debating within himself what to say. “He wants the wedding to take plac
e soon. When he has a plan in place, he doesn’t want that plan thwarted in any way.”
“So he will try to kill Berk soon?”
Alex looks at me. “I will not let him.”
“Can I see Berk?”
“Absolutely not. You must appear to be complying with the king’s wishes.”
“Or he will kill me too?” I fold my arms across my chest. “He’s already planning that anyway.”
“He will drug you again.” Alex raises his eyebrows at me. “I have convinced him you do not need the drugs. But if he feels you are being too troublesome, he will insist.”
I think of how I felt under the influence of those pharmaceuticals. My mind was foggy, my emotions changed. I do not want that. “All right. But I have to do something. Please.”
“Act like everything is fine, like you want to get married. Try to win my father’s affections. That will make it harder for him to have you killed. I am trying to convince him you are more valuable alive than dead.”
“Try to win his affections?” I think I might rather die. This barbaric tyrant who is willing to kill his own wife, to torture Berk? Pretend that none of that matters? I do not think I am capable of that.
“He is not all bad.”
I forget this is Alex’s father. I do not even know what that would be like, to have parents who raised you, whom you love. Our Monitors were the closest things to parents we had, but they rotated out every few months. We never bonded with them. Never bonded with anyone but those in our pod.
“He truly believes this is the right way to rule people. He wants to be feared, it is true, but he is convinced that fear is the only way to reach our goals for this city.”
“And killing people? This helps reach your goals?”
