by Marie Lu
I look back one more time at Tess, who’s watching the soldiers unclip the shackles from her wrists. Then I head out with June. Eden rushes over to me, nearly colliding with me in his hurry, and I take his hand back in mine.
Anden stops us before a group of Republic soldiers. I frown at the sight. Four of the soldiers are kneeling on the ground with their hands on their heads. Their eyes stay downcast. One weeps silently.
The remaining soldiers in the group have their guns pointed at the kneeling soldiers. The soldier in charge addresses Anden. “These are the guards who were in charge of Commander Jameson and Captain Bryant. We found a suspicious communication between one of them and the Colonies.”
No wonder he brought us out here, to see the faces of our potential traitors. I look back at the captured guards. The crying one looks up at Anden with pleading eyes. “Please, Elector,” he begs. “I had nothing to do with their escape. I—I don’t know how it happened. I—” His words cut off as a gun barrel cuffs him in the head.
Anden’s face, normally thoughtful and reserved, has turned ice-cold. I look from the kneeling soldiers back to him. He’s silent for a moment. Then he nods at his men. “Interrogate them. If they don’t cooperate, shoot them. Spread the word to the rest of the troops. Let it be a lesson to any other traitors within our ranks. Let them know we will root them out.”
The soldiers with the guns click their heels. “Yes, sir.” They haul the accused traitors to their feet. A sick feeling hits my stomach. But Anden doesn’t take back his words—instead, he looks on as the soldiers are dragged, shouting and pleading, out of the bunker. June looks stricken. Her eyes follow the prisoners.
Anden turns on us with a grave expression. “The Colonies have help.”
A dull thud echoes from somewhere above us, and the ground and ceiling tremble in response. June peers closer at Anden, as if analyzing him. “What kind of help?”
“I saw their squadrons in the air, right beyond the Armor. They’re not all Colonies jets. Some of them have African stars painted on their sides. My generals tell me that the Colonies are confident enough to have parked an airship and a squadron of jets less than a half mile from our Armor, setting up makeshift airfields as they go. They are ramping up for another assault.”
My hand tightens around Eden’s. He squints at the swarms of evacuees crowded near the subway, but he probably can’t see anything more than a mass of moving blurs. I wish I could take that frightened look off his face. “How long is Denver gonna hold?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Anden replies grimly. “The Armor is strong, but we can’t fight a superpower for long.”
“So what do we do now?” June says. “If we can’t hold them off alone, then are we just going to lose this war?”
Anden shakes his head. “We need help too. I’m going to get us an audience with the United Nations or with Antarctica, see whether they’re willing to step up to the plate. They might buy us enough time for . . .” He glances at my brother, quiet and calm beside me. A stab of guilt and rage hits me. I narrow my eyes at Anden—my hand clamps tighter on my brother’s arm. Eden shouldn’t have to be in the middle of this. I shouldn’t have to choose between losing my brother and losing this damn country.
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” I say.
As he and June launch into an in-depth conversation about Antarctica, I look back at the room where Tess and the Patriots are being held. Through the window, I can see Tess tending carefully to the girl with the bleeding shoulder while the soldiers look on with uneasy expressions. Don’t know why all those trained killers should be scared of a little girl armed with a handful of bandages and rubbing alcohol. I shiver as I think of the way Anden ordered those accused soldiers out of the bunker and killed. Pascao looks frustrated, and for a moment, he meets my stare through the glass. Even though he doesn’t move his mouth, I can tell what he’s thinking.
He knows that trapping the Patriots inside a room during the middle of a battle, while civilians and soldiers alike are getting killed aboveground, is a total goddy waste.
“Elector,” I suddenly say, turning back to face Anden and June. He pauses to stare at me. “Let them out of this bunker.” When Anden stays silent, compelling me to go on, I add, “They can help your effort up there. I bet they can play the guerrilla game better than any of your soldiers, and since you won’t be evacuating the poor sectors for a while, you might need all the help you can get.”
June doesn’t say anything about my little jab, but Anden folds his arms across his chest. “Day, I pardoned the Patriots as part of our original deal—but I haven’t forgotten about my difficult history with them. While I don’t want to see your friends shackled like prisoners, I have no reason to believe that they’ll now help a country that they have terrorized for so long.”
“They’re harmless,” I insist. “They have no reason to fight against the Republic.”
“Three death-row prisoners just escaped,” Anden snaps. “The Colonies have launched a surprise attack on our capital. And now my would-be assassins are sitting a dozen yards from me. I’m not in the most forgiving mood.”
“I’m trying to help you,” I fire back. “You just caught your traitors, anyway, didn’t you? Do you really think the Patriots had anything to do with Commander Jameson’s escape? Especially when she threw them to the dogs? Do you think I like the idea that my mother’s killers are on the loose now? Unleash the Patriots, and they’ll fight for you.”
Anden narrows his eyes. “What makes you think they’re so loyal to the Republic?”
“Let me lead them,” I say. Eden jerks his head up at me in surprise. “And you’ll get your loyalty.” June shoots me a warning glare—I take a deep breath, swallow my frustration, and will myself to calm down. She’s right. No point getting angry at Anden if I need him on my side. “Please,” I add in a lower voice. “Let me help. You have to trust someone. Don’t just leave people out there to die.”
Anden studies my face for a long moment, and with a chill, I realize how much he looks like his father. The similarity is only there for an instant, though—and then it vanishes, replaced by Anden’s serious, concerned gaze. As if he suddenly remembers who we are. He sighs deeply and tightens his lips. “Let me know what your plan is,” he finally says. “And we’ll see. In the meantime, I suggest you get your brother on a subway.” When he sees my expression, he adds, “He’ll be safe until you join him. You have my word.”
Then he turns away and motions for June to accompany him. I let my breath out as I watch a soldier lead him and June toward a cluster of generals. June looks over her shoulder at me as they go. I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. She’s worried about what this war is doing to Anden. What it’s doing to all of us.
Lucy interrupts my thoughts. “Perhaps we should get your brother on the evacuation train,” she says. She gives me a sympathetic look.
“Right.” I look down at Eden and pat his shoulder. I try my best to have faith in the Elector’s promise. “Let’s head over to the train and get the details on how to get you out of here.”
“What about you?” Eden asks. “Are you really going to lead some kind of assault?”
“I’ll meet up with you in Los Angeles. I swear.”
Eden doesn’t make a sound as we make our way over to the train platform and let the soldiers escort us toward the front. His expression has grown serious and sullen. When we’re finally in front of the train’s closed glass door, I bend to his eye level. “Look—I’m sorry I’m not going with you right away. I need to stay here and help, yeah? Lucy’s got you. She’ll keep you safe. I’ll join up with you soon—”
“Yeah, fine,” Eden grumbles.
“Oh.” I clear my throat. Eden is sickly and tech-minded and occasionally obnoxious, but he’s rarely angry like this. Even after his blindness, he’s stayed optimistic. So his bluntness throws me off. “Well, that’s good,” I decide to respond. “I’m glad you’re—”
“You�
��re hiding something from me, Daniel,” he interrupts. “I can tell. What is it?”
I pause. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Eden pulls himself out of my grasp and frowns. “Something’s up. I could hear it in the Elector’s voice, and then you said that weird thing to me the other day, about how you were afraid the Republic’s soldiers would come knocking on our door . . . Why would they do that all of a sudden? I thought everything was fine now.”
I sigh and bow my head. Eden’s eyes soften a little, but his jaw stays firm. “What is it?” he repeats.
He’s eleven years old. He deserves to know the truth.
“The Republic wants you back for experimentation,” I reply, keeping my voice low so that only he can hear me. “There’s a virus spreading in the Colonies. They think you have the antidote in your blood. They want to take you to the labs.”
Eden stares in my direction for a long, silent moment. Above us, another dull thud shakes the earth. I wonder how well the Armor’s holding up. Seconds drag by. Finally, I put a hand on his arm. “I won’t let them take you away,” I say, trying to reassure him. “Okay? You’re going to be fine. Anden—the Elector—knows that he can’t take you away without risking a revolution among the people. He can’t do it without my permission.”
“All those people in the Colonies are going to die, aren’t they?” Eden mutters under his breath. “The ones with the virus?”
I hesitate. I never asked much about exactly what the plague’s symptoms were—I stopped listening the instant they mentioned my brother. “I don’t know,” I confess.
“And then they’re going to spread it to the Republic.” Eden turns his head down and wrings his hands together. “Maybe they’re spreading it right now. If they take over the capital, the disease will spread. Won’t it?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat.
Eden’s eyes search my face. Even though he’s nearly blind, I can see the unhappiness in them. “You don’t have to make all my decisions, you know.”
“I didn’t think I was. Don’t you want to evacuate to LA? It’s safer there, and I told you—I’ll catch up with you there. I promise.”
“No, not that. Why’d you decide to keep this a secret?”
This is why he’s upset? “You’re kidding, right?”
“Why?” Eden presses.
“You would’ve agreed?” I move closer to him, then glance around at the soldiers and evacuees and lower my voice. “I know I declared my support for Anden, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what the Republic did to our family. To you. When I watched you get sick, when the plague patrols came to our door and dragged you out on that gurney, with blood blackening your eyes . . .” I pause, close my eyes, and shut the scene out. I’ve played it in my head a million times; no need to revisit it again. The memory makes the pain flare up at the back of my head.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Eden fires back in a low, defiant voice. “You’re my brother, not our mom.”
I narrow my eyes. “I am now.”
“No, you’re not. Mom’s dead.” Eden takes a deep breath. “I remember what the Republic did to us. Of course I do. But the Colonies are invading. I want to help.”
I can’t believe Eden’s telling me this. He doesn’t understand the lengths the Republic will go to—has he really forgotten their experiments? I lean forward and put my hand on his tiny wrist. “It could kill you. Do you realize that? And they might not even find a cure using your blood.”
Eden pulls away from me again. “It’s my decision to make. Not yours.”
His words echo June’s from earlier. “Fine,” I snap. “Then what’s your decision, kid?”
He steels himself. “Maybe I want to help.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. You want to help them out? Are you just doing that to go against what I’m saying?”
“I’m serious.”
A lump rises in my throat. “Eden,” I begin, “we’ve lost Mom and John. Dad is gone. You’re all I have left. I can’t afford to lose you too. Everything I’ve done so far, I’ve done for you. I’m not letting you risk your life to save the Republic—or the Colonies.”
The defiance fades from Eden’s eyes. He props his arms up on the railing and leans his head against his hands. “If there’s one thing I know about you,” he says, “it’s that you’re not selfish.”
I pause. Selfish. I am selfish—I want Eden to stay protected, out of harm’s way, and screw whatever he thinks about that. But at his words, my guilt bubbles up. How many times had John tried to keep me out of trouble? How many times had he warned me against messing with the Republic, or trying to find a cure for Eden? I had never listened, and I don’t regret it. Eden stares at me with sightless eyes, a disability the Republic handed to him. And now he’s offering himself up, a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter, and I can’t understand why.
No. I do understand. He is me—he’s doing what I would’ve done.
But the thought of losing him is too much to bear. I put my hand on his shoulder and start steering him inside. “Get to LA first. We’ll talk about this later. You better think this through, because if you volunteer for this—”
“I did think it through,” Eden replies. Then he pulls out of my grasp and steps back through the balcony door. “And besides, if they came for me, do you really think we could stop them?”
And then his turn comes. Lucy helps him step onto the subway, and I hold his hand for a brief moment before he has to let go. Despite how upset he seems to be, Eden still clutches my hand hard. “Hurry up, okay?” he says to me. Without warning, he throws his arms around my neck. Beside him, Lucy gives me one of her reassuring smiles.
“Don’t you worry, Daniel,” she says. “I’ll watch him like a hawk.”
I nod gratefully at her. Then I hug Eden tight, squeeze my eyes shut, and take a deep breath. “See you soon, kid,” I whisper. Then I reluctantly untangle his fingers from mine. Eden disappears onto the subway. Moments later, the train pulls away from the station and takes the first wave of evacuees toward the Republic’s west coast, leaving only Eden’s words behind, ringing in my mind.
Maybe I want to help.
I sit alone for some time after his train leaves, lost in thought, going over those words repeatedly. I’m his guardian now—I have every right to keep him from harm, and hell if I’m going to see him back in the Republic’s labs after everything I’ve done to keep him from there. I close my eyes and bury my hands in my hair.
After a while, I make my way back to the room where the Patriots are being kept. The door’s open. When I step inside, Pascao quits stretching out his arms and Tess looks up from where she’s finishing the bandaging of the wounded girl’s shoulder.
“So,” I say to them, my eyes lingering on Tess. “You guys came back to town to give the Colonies some hell?” Tess drops her gaze.
Pascao shrugs. “Well, it won’t matter if no one lets us back up there. Why? You have something in mind?”
“The Elector’s given his permission,” I reply. “As long as I’m in charge, he thinks we’ll be good enough not to turn against the Republic.” What a stupid fear, anyway. They still have my brother, don’t they?
A slow smile spreads on Pascao’s face. “Well. That sounds like it could be fun. What do you have in mind?”
I put my hands in my pockets and put my arrogant mask back on. “What I’ve always been good at.”
51.5 HOURS SINCE MY FINAL CONVERSATION WITH THOMAS.
15 HOURS SINCE I LAST SAW DAY.
8 HOURS SINCE THE COLONIES’ BOMBARDMENT OF DENVER’S ARMOR CAME TO A LULL.
WE’RE ON THE ELECTOR’S PLANE HEADED TO ROSS City, Antarctica.
I sit across from Anden. Ollie’s lying at my feet. The other two Princeps-Elects are in an adjacent compartment, separated from us by glass (3 × 6 feet, bulletproof, Republic seal carved on the side facing me, judging from the edges of the cut). Outside the window, the sky is brilliant blue and a
blanket of clouds pads the bottom of our view. Any minute now, we should feel the plane dip and see the sprawling Antarctican metropolis come into view.
I’ve stayed quiet for most of the trip, listening on as Anden takes a stream of endless calls from Denver about the battle. Only when we’re almost over Antarctican waters does he finally fall silent. I watch how the light plays on his features, contouring the young face that holds such world-weary thoughts.
“What’s the history between us and Antarctica?” I ask after a while. What I really want to say is, Do you think they’ll help us? but that question is just silly small talk, impossible to answer and thus pointless to ask.
Anden looks away from the window and fixes his bright green eyes on me. “Antarctica gives us aid. We’ve taken international aid from them for decades. Our own economy isn’t strong enough to stand on its own.”
It still unsettles me that the nation I once believed so powerful is in reality struggling for survival. “And what is our relationship with them now?”
Anden keeps his gaze steadily on me. I can see the tension in his eyes, but his face remains composed. “Antarctica has promised to double their aid if we can draft a treaty that can get the Colonies talking with us again. And they’ve threatened to halve their aid if we don’t have a treaty by the end of this year.” He pauses. “So we’re visiting them not just to ask for help, but to try to persuade them not to withhold their aid.”
We have to explain why everything has fallen apart. I swallow. “Why Antarctica?”
“They have a long rivalry with Africa,” Anden replies. “If anyone with power will help us win a war against the Colonies and Africa, it’ll be them.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. His gloved hands are a foot away from my legs. “We’ll see what happens. We owe them a lot of money, and they haven’t been happy with us for the past few years.”
