by Rebecca Rode
Vance hadn’t told me much about the night he almost died. The one time I had pushed for details, his eyes clouded over with pain and he changed the subject. It was enough to know I had almost lost him twice—once on that terrible night and again on the day he was supposed to be executed.
His people had raised him as their leader instead of killing him. At least they were smart enough for that.
Everything had changed afterward. He was different now, easily distracted and overly concerned. Once, his eyes had tracked me as I crossed a room, and he had looked at me as though I was the morning sun in a snowy wasteland. But today there was an edge of pain to his smile.
“I’m just glad my dad didn’t have to see me wearing this,” he said ruefully. “He always said I’d understand the need for dressing up someday, but I didn’t believe him.”
“I bet he never thought you’d be attending the Nations for Peace convention in Liverpool. He’d be so proud of you.”
A flash of pain crossed his face. He fixed his gaze on a painting behind me. “I wish my mom could have come. She kept some old books about Europe and showed me the pictures when I was a kid.”
“Oh, Vance.” I moved to where he stood in the doorway, slid my arms around him, and rested my head against his chest. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”
His hand pressed against my hair, and then his arms encircled me. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Or yours,” I said, pulling back to look at him. The regret on his face was so intense I wondered how he could stand it. I grabbed at anything to distract him. “So you talked to the settlement, then? Are your sisters okay?”
I’d taken Prince Augustus’s offer and requested a communication tech last night. The woman had connected us to Vance’s settlement by rerouting through NORA. Vance didn’t like NORA having power over his communications, but we had little choice. He’d disappeared early into his room last night and spoken in a voice so low I couldn’t hear.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled me more tightly against him. I looked up expectantly, but instead of kissing me, he cocked his head and examined me. “You’re trembling again.”
“I am not.”
He chuckled. “You are. You’re scared to death, aren’t you?”
“Vance, these are the most powerful people in the world. I have the right to be a little nervous.”
“Sure, they have power, but they’re still people. They have families and homes and probably tiny pet dogs. And they’re probably all agonizing over their hair right now too.”
“I don’t know about the dog part, but you’re probably right.” Owning animals had been deemed cruel in NORA and banned twenty years before, but I knew other countries still kept animals in their homes. It was still hard for me to understand. What animal wanted to be caged like that?
“Hey, now. I wouldn’t mind having a dog someday.”
I pursed my lips. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“It’s working, isn’t it?”
I glared at him for a moment, and he shot me a wicked smile. In that moment, the Vance I loved was back. Whatever darkness had kept him from me dissipated in the banter. I missed this. I missed him. Our training sessions in the morning, the innocence of our first kiss in the stairwell. That day when he’d put off leaving NORA and come back for me instead. Those moments were lights in the darkness of the past few months. I still couldn’t believe he’d left everything behind to come with me.
Vance placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the mirror again. “Look at yourself. What do you see?”
I’d prepared for this moment for months, but despite that, I felt completely inadequate. I was barely seventeen. I was supposed to be at the Academy right now, studying late into the night and attending dorm parties, not traveling overseas to save a country. “Honestly? A terrified girl who has no idea what she’s doing.”
A knock sounded at the door, and the warmth that surged through my body turned cold. It was time.
Vance must have seen the terror on my face because his smile tightened. He placed a finger under my chin and raised my face to his.
“You are clever, stunning, and delightfully unpredictable,” he whispered, his breath on my face. “You’ve survived bombs and assassins. You may be young, but you have more experience than most of those people in all the ways that count.”
I pulled his head down to mine, and he responded instantly. My trembling limbs heated once again, my body melting against his. My hands slid upward and tangled in his neatly combed hair. My breath came faster, more strained, but our mouths moved together insistently. And then he pulled away, leaving a trail of kisses down my jaw, then my neck.
“Ahem,” a voice said.
We pulled apart like we’d heard a gunshot.
Finley stood there, frowning. “Um, I did knock. Your transport has arrived.” She eyed Vance with a cool expression. “Would you like me to accompany you, Madam Ambassador? It seems your security captain is a little distracted.”
The rare openness Vance had just displayed closed off, and he was all business again. He straightened his shirt and turned toward her, clearing his throat. “Thanks, Finley, but that’s not necessary. I’ve already assigned Carter and Wyles to join us today.”
“Is my father coming?” I asked her, my own voice wobbly, my body still pulsing with want. Jasper and Chan had stopped by for a visit last night just to inform me they had a separate apartment in town and would report as needed. Vance and Jasper had agreed that investigating Prince Augustus took priority, overruling my insistence that we needed to know more about the other ambassadors.
“You can’t do any good here if you’re dead,” Vance had said as if it ended the matter. I was a little irritated that Jasper was encouraging him. I was seeing glimpses in Vance that reminded me far too much of good old Precious back in NORA.
Finley’s words brought me back to the present. “Jasper said something about exploring a historical landmark a few hours ago, but he hasn’t returned, so I would assume that’s a no.”
Historical landmark, indeed. That was his code for spy work. Seems he hadn’t wasted any time in his investigation. “Thanks. We’d better go.”
Vance put his hand on the small of my back and guided me through the door while Finley looked on in disapproval. I straightened and took a deep breath as we headed past the giant tree toward the door. Everyone on my team had performed their duties beautifully so far, but now the hard work was about to begin.
Now it was my turn, and five million lives were depending on me.
“Access cards?” a woman asked as we approached. The double doors to the convention center stood wide open, and a few guards stood around, but their presence seemed to be more of a formality. A crowd of reporters—probably the same ones who’d assailed us on the docks—captured footage of us speaking to her.
I held out the card they’d sent with my invitation and looked uncertainly at Vance. “This is my head of security. I’d like him to accompany me.”
“No security inside, Ambassador. I assure you the globe is perfectly safe. He’s welcome to watch from the screen room like the others.”
The globe? What was that supposed to mean? “But the other ambassadors have people with them.”
The woman looked up. “Assistants and runners, yes. Not security. You can understand why having hundreds of trained soldiers in a room full of royalty and politicians is an issue.”
“I’ll be her assistant, then,” Vance said. “Surely that would be appropriate, as she has nobody else here.”
“I’m sorry, Ambassador Dowell,” the woman said, ignoring Vance completely, “but if you wanted an assistant, you should have obtained an access card for him as well. We do background checks in advance to ensure our guests’ safety. There’s nothing I can do for you now.” Her eyes flicked to the side, but her smile didn’t budge. Those eye implants were so disconcerting. What was she telling the network right now?
Something flas
hed behind us, and I gritted my teeth. I really, really didn’t want to go in there alone, but I wasn’t about to make a scene, either. Not with reporters taking note of everything we did.
Vance saw the discomfort on my face and touched my arm. “I’m still with you. I’ll just be watching from the other room. Nothing has changed. The moment it ends, I’ll be waiting right here for you. All right?”
“Okay.” I straightened and released a long breath. “Thank you, Vance.”
“For what?”
“For coming. For believing in me.” I glanced at the reporters chattering across the room. They made me even more nervous now that I knew my embarrassment was probably being transmitted across the world at this very moment. “For being the only person in the world who genuinely thinks I can do this.”
“You’re making history today, Ambassador Dowell. Knock them off their feet.” He leaned in close to my ear, and the door greeter pulled back and looked away to disguise that she’d been listening intently. “And by the way, you look stunning.”
The ambassador cleared his throat behind us, and I felt my smile wobble slightly. I nodded and fingered the shoulder bag containing all my evidence, then marched inside like a soldier going to war.
I found the screen room quickly. It was standing-room only, packed with reporters, all of them staring at a giant screen in the wall. Hundreds of smaller screens lined the sides, their cameras zoomed in on specific individuals.
I pushed through the crowd and found Treena’s screen. She was just getting seated, her back straight, her head held regally. She was the only person without an entourage of guests, and the chair she now occupied was far too large for a normal-sized girl. She looked so small compared to the others.
“Hey, look,” a slender man called out, pointing to Treena. “That girl showed up all alone. Trying to make us feel sorry for her, she is.”
A woman laughed. “This’ll be a laugh. Who brought the popcorn?”
“Eighty pounds says she’ll break down and cry during the introductions.”
“Nobody’ll take that bet, you dimwit,” the woman said. “Looks like she’s about to bawl already.”
I bit back a retort. Arguing with these ridiculous people would only get me kicked out, and Treena was counting on me to be there. Besides, this was simply how reporters related to each other. They acted interested and attentive until they got their stories, then tore their interviewees apart in private. And probably a whole lot of other people, too.
I rubbed at the headache forming behind my temples. I was used to insomnia, but the nightmares running through my mind last night were more disturbing than usual. I’d relived my mother’s murder again, no surprise. Ju-Long and his stunner. Mom jumping out to shield me just as he shot. Her contorted body flailing on the ground. The look of terror in her eyes. Her body going still.
But this time was different. As I moved closer to brush her face, her features changed. I put a gentle hand on her cheek and turned her face toward me, then recoiled in horror. The corpse on the floor, twisted in wordless agony, wasn’t my mother.
It was Treena.
Tearing my thoughts from that terrible image, reminding myself it was just a dream, I examined the other screens. A pale-skinned man in a dark-gray suit drummed his fingers on his desk, glaring at his neighbor. Then he leaned over and whispered to one of his assistants, an overly attentive man who kept nodding his head. The words across that screen read “Federal Chancellor Andreas Ziegler, Germany.”
I studied the others. A lot of frowning, whispering, and distrustful looks. Only two ambassadors talked to each other, but I could tell by their expressions that they were only trying to appear amiable.
Ironic that this gathering was called Nations for Peace. It was like they’d thrown a hundred hungry tigers into the same den. I hoped they wouldn’t see Treena as the rabbit.
An empty desk caught my eye. The title read “President Chiu, Eastern Continental Alliance.” If the Chinese president had declined his invitation to attend, why was there a place for him?
The introductions dragged on for over an hour, and my thoughts wandered to home. I’d finally made contact with my settlement last night. Ruby had assured me my sisters were fine and having fun, but Lucy’s refusal to speak with me confirmed what Ruby didn’t have to say—she knew I’d broken my promise. No amount of explaining could help her understand why I needed to be here.
Selia had insisted they were fine, but her voice held a reluctance I found concerning. She wasn’t telling me everything. Something was wrong, and I had a feeling I would be the last to know about it. Our call ended abruptly when interference finally took hold of the line.
I’d call them again tonight. I would force Selia to tell me everything.
Just as introductions were wrapping up in the “globe,” as they called it, the double doors slammed open and a man stalked in. Six others marched after him. They wore civilian clothing, but it was too obvious by the smoothness of their gait that these were no assistants.
The man sat at the empty desk and folded his hands, then looked down at the gathering like a ruler upon his subjects. Both rooms had gone silent.
President Chiu had arrived.
Thirty minutes. Only thirty minutes had passed since I left Vance at the door, and it seemed like an eternity.
“President Abioye Okar, of the African provinces,” the spokesman continued with forced enthusiasm. A dark-skinned woman with intricately braided hair stood. She looked over the room as if she’d just noticed we were there, then gave a slow nod. She sat delicately, gracefully.
Mexico’s and Canada’s leaders were introduced one after the other, a fact neither seemed too happy about. They glared like siblings who despised one another. I tried to memorize their faces. Getting to know NORA’s neighbors would be wise, especially if they seemed willing to take in refugees.
I looked upward at the dome overhead. It was strange, these people’s obsession with round buildings, but it least it gave me something to look at. The main room extended high overhead. The walls weren’t privacy glass like my residence but were instead an interconnected network of stained-glass windows, steel, and wood. It was like they’d combined three centuries of architecture into the same building, and I couldn’t stop staring.
Clear tables stood in a circular pattern around me, all containing an electronic screen in the center. Most of the people sitting at those tables stared down at their screens, some swiping and typing, ignoring the man conducting the introductions. He stood at the very center of the circle. I wondered if the circular floor was supposed to represent the world. It was certainly appropriate today.
Most of the people being introduced were in their fifties and sixties. They’d probably led their countries for longer than I’d been alive. Tall and short, thin and round, and wearing a rainbow of skin colors, these people came in a beautiful variety of packages. That was something NORA lacked. Thin and muscular counted for the most appearance points, so everyone looked pretty much the same.
I fingered the screen in front of me. There was virtual paper for note taking, but it seemed ridiculous when they were recording the proceedings anyway. The four large screens positioned around the bottom of the dome proved that much. I wondered if this meeting was being broadcast throughout the world. Another wave of nerves made my stomach lurch.
“The honorable Ferdinand Albrecht, leader of the Eastern European States.”
A tall man with a pointy chin stood, gave a bow, and sat again.
I tapped on a picture at the bottom corner of my screen. A name and image of the man who had just stood popped up. I skimmed through his biography. The Eastern European States was a union of several smaller countries. While NORA had struggled to put down roots, it seemed many of the world’s countries had combined forces with their neighbors. We were decades behind.
I pulled up each person and scanned through their information as the spokesman continued the introductions, but there was so much to remember
. I’d tried to study up on international news in NORA, but it was like trying to catch individual drops of water in the shower—the moment I grasped something, it moved on. Besides, NORA had been designed as a protection from the world outside. We only knew what travelers said, and those were few and far between.
The spokesman paused and put a finger to his ear as if listening, then whirled to face the doors, watching them in surprise. A moment later, the double doors swung open to admit a dark-haired man wearing a sharply-tailored suit, an entourage of men stepping in time behind him.
I gripped my chair. Fates. It wasn’t him.
There was no way.
The Asian man made his way to the last empty table and sat, back erect and head held high. Then he scanned the crowd until his dark eyes settled on me. And bored into mine.
There was no doubt about it. This was the man who wanted to destroy my people.
The speaker looked flustered as he gestured toward the unexpected newcomer. “The honored President Chiu, of the Eastern Continental Alliance.”
The room filled with quiet whispering. At least everyone else seemed as surprised as I was.
The Asian man didn’t stand when his name was called. He simply nodded and turned to the screen in front of him. His assistants stood with their hands rigidly at their sides. When it seemed everyone else had looked away, the president glanced up at me once more. There was a slight smirk, and then his face went smooth again.
“The respectable Ametrine Dowell, Councilwoman of Foreign Affairs, New Order Republic of America.”
I stood and forced a smile. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry.
The room barely seemed to acknowledge me. The few who glanced up from their screens frowned, squinting at me as if confused by what they saw. Others stared for a moment, then furiously turned back to their screens. I wondered if they were looking me up. I could see the questions in their quizzical expressions. How old is that girl? Are there even people left where she came from?
