by Rosiee Thor
“Then why the secrecy?” Eliza asked, eyes narrowed. “You took her title without a proper hearing, without due course. There’s no record of you assuming the Commissioner’s duties, and yet here you are.”
“The Queen’s doing. She wanted me in power, but the council never would have allowed it. My wife died under dubious circumstances, and we couldn’t have them investigate.” He shuddered. “The Queen arranged for a brand-new council and cemented me as their leader without a confirmation hearing. I simply became Commissioner Fremont, as if there had been no change.”
Nathaniel fought the urge to shiver. This was not the answer he’d expected. If his father hadn’t seized power out of greed, was he truly the monster Nathaniel thought him to be, or was there something worse waiting in the wings?
“What do you mean, dubious circumstances?” Eliza asked. “If you didn’t kill her, who did?”
The Commissioner shook his head. “You misunderstand—my wife wasn’t murdered.”
Anna stepped forward, withdrawing the vaccine from her pocket, the golden liquid catching the light. “It was Tarnish, wasn’t it?”
The Commissioner nodded. “She wanted to make the world,” he said, choking on the words. “That’s what she told me the first time we met. The first cases of Tarnish had only just been discovered in the first generation of planetary children, and she thought she could find a cure. Infants were dying, and she wanted to save them.” He shook his head, pressing his palms against his eyes. “We never expected our own son to fall ill.”
Nathaniel tensed. He’d never heard this story from his father’s own lips. He’d woven his own narrative, imagining the desperation that forced his father to let tech save his only son. If Nathaniel had asked, his father would only have lied to him. But his father did not appear to be lying now, absorbed in a web of memory and melancholy.
“I’ll admit, it demoralized me, but it only spurred your mother on. She spent so much time pouring over alchemy bottles, studying compounds, and testing theories. I always knew she’d succeed eventually, but alchemy is dangerous, and the chemicals she worked with even more so. The compound she found running through the very core of the planet was unstable and toxic.” He shrugged, letting his hands fall from his face, eyes finding his son’s. “By the time she’d invented a vaccine, it was too late. She was too far gone, Earth Adjacent’s natural poisons tearing her apart from the inside.”
Nathaniel surveyed his father, searching for some tell. His father had painted him a world filled with truths as compelling as lies, and Nathaniel didn’t know how to tell the difference anymore.
“Say her name,” Nathaniel said finally, voice shaking.
“What?” the Commissioner asked.
“Say her name. You always call her your wife or my mother. You never say her name. Say it, and then maybe I’ll believe you.”
The Commissioner looked at his feet, and Nathaniel thought he might refuse, but then he gripped the edge of the desk, and opened his mouth.
“Isla.”
Her name rolled over him like warm blanket, like a missing puzzle piece, like a single note of a melancholy song.
“I didn’t realize how long it’s been—I almost forgot what her name sounds like.” His father’s voice hitched as he said her name again. “Isla.”
This time, her name drove through him, a word made steel, each syllable a stab to the gut.
“Why keep her work a secret?” Anna asked. “Why let Mechan suffer? If you had the ability to save us, why didn’t you?” She slammed her fist on the desk. “Why hunt us like prey, why tear us apart and leave us to stitch ourselves back together?” Tears speckled the corners of her eyes. “Why let us die, when you could have let us live?”
The Commissioner gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles, his lips pressed together into a thin line. “Because—”
“Because of me.” A smooth, familiar voice sounded through the room.
The Queen had come to call at last.
Anna had never before seen the woman standing in the archway, but she knew immediately who she must be. Of medium build with wide, imposing skirts, she was Eliza’s shadow, menacing and majestic. Black velvet sleeves caught the light like scales, and a whisper of a veil fell past her chin.
“Your Majesty,” Eliza breathed, her words so quiet Anna thought she must be the only one to hear them.
“That’s what you were going to say, is it not, Commissioner?” The Queen’s words languished like a wilted flower. “You were about to blame your cruel and unnecessary practices on me. How rude.”
The Commissioner, who had shrunk beneath Eliza’s scrutiny, became even smaller, if possible. He gripped the arms of his chair, white-knuckled and wide-eyed.
Eliza said she wanted to unravel him. Well, now he was a tangle of loose thread, a nervous boy in the body of a man. Anna saw a familiar flicker of despair in his eyes, a twitch in his lip—just like Nathaniel. But Nathaniel had found a way to stand where the Commissioner still sat.
Anna nearly felt sorry for him.
Nearly.
“Y-you forced my hand,” the Commissioner stammered, but then he looked up, meeting the Queen’s gaze. “I can’t let you take credit for work you didn’t do.”
“Let’s not spin delusions, Commissioner. Neither of us deserves the credit.” She laughed.
Anna traced the invisible pathways between the Commissioner and the Queen. Before, it had been simple: three against one. Now with the Queen added to the mix, Anna couldn’t be sure of anyone. She didn’t understand the lines connecting them all.
The Queen turned her covered face toward Eliza, crossing her arms, her fingers wrapping around her elbows. “And here you are, my wayward pupil. Your time has quite run out. Do you have the cure or not?”
Eliza didn’t move. Anna couldn’t be sure she was even breathing. The only sign that she was alive was her hand still firmly gripping her knife.
Anna couldn’t rely on Eliza to corral the players in the room anymore. She had only herself. If she wanted to know the truth, she’d have to ask for it.
Stepping forward, Anna balled her fists. “What do you want with the cure?”
The Queen turned her head a fraction, as if she’d only just noticed Anna’s presence. “I want to save the human race. Isn’t that a worthy goal?”
Anna swallowed. The Queen’s words were too sweet to be true. If the Commissioner was to be believed, his wife had wanted to save the world, and so, too, had he. It hadn’t stopped him from hunting her people like prey. Wanting to do the right thing wasn’t enough to be righteous, and Anna was running low on trust.
“He won’t let you?” Anna jabbed her thumb back at the Commissioner, who stood.
“Wait just a minute,” the Commissioner spat. “Saving the human race is all well and good, but I won’t let you trample over my—”
“Trample? Truly, Commissioner, you must try harder if you wish to retain the high ground.”
“You think yourself righteous because you sit above us on your throne among the stars.” The Commissioner stepped out from behind his desk, squaring his shoulders. “But you’re nothing more than a thief, stealing glory from those who’ve earned it.”
Anna crossed her arms. “If this is just about pride—”
“A girl like you wouldn’t understand the intricacies of politics,” the Queen snapped, inclining her head ever so slightly, as if to measure Anna’s worth.
“I’m guessing you haven’t met many girls like me.”
The Queen adjusted her shoulders but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to Eliza. “Come now, Eliza. The cure. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
Still Eliza didn’t respond.
Anna didn’t have time for nonsense, either. One way or another, she would get the answers she wanted. She would get her cure, she would get her grandfather, and she would get out. But with the Queen and the Commissioner in her way, she’d have to think like Eliza; she’d have to devise a plan.
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Anna held up the golden liquid for the Queen to see. “This cure? It’s the last vial, you know.” She bent down, placing it beneath the toe of her boot. “Now, how about you clarify—unless you’d rather not explain to a girl like me.” She made as if to lower her foot onto the vial, hoping her gamble would pay off.
The Queen didn’t move. “You won’t.”
Anna shrugged. “It’s a simple trade. Give me answers, I don’t crush this vial. Give me answers I like, maybe I’ll give it to you, and you won’t even have to fight me for it.”
The Queen settled back on her heels. “Who are you?”
Anna let a small smile creep across her lips. “The Technician—maybe you’ve heard of me?”
The Commissioner’s gaze snapped to her. “The what?”
Anna couldn’t help herself. She grinned. “You heard me.”
“But that’s impossible! I captured the Technician!”
Nathaniel coughed. “I think you’ve got the wrong outlaw.”
“But she’s so young!” The Commissioner’s brow wrinkled in frustration.
“Really.” Anna sighed, glancing from the Commissioner to the Queen. “If you continue to underestimate me, you’ll regret it.”
“Very well.” The Queen nodded. “The Commissioner wants to hold that cure over your heads. As long as he controls the cure, he controls the Tarnished. If you submit to him and his laws, your future generations can benefit from better health than you. But, of course, you and your people will still be considered criminals. The cure won’t save you from the law.” She laughed coolly. “Generous, my son.”
The Commissioner made a sound of protest, but whether he disagreed with her assessment or her calling him her son, Anna couldn’t tell, nor did she care.
Anna clutched her TICCER through her clothes. The cure wasn’t really a cure. Her heart condition, no matter its cause, was irreversible. To conform to the Commissioner’s laws, they’d have to lose their tech, and for most of them, that meant a quick death. Without her TICCER, Anna’s heart wouldn’t beat properly. It wouldn’t matter if Ruby’s child could be born without a heart condition if the rest of them had to die for it.
Anna would never risk all Mechan just so one person could have a chance to live without tech. Life with a TICCER was still a life, and life outside the law was still better than death inside it.
“Not a chance,” Anna growled, shooting the Commissioner a glare. But the man who’d terrorized her village, who’d haunted her by night, who’d hunted her by day, looked almost defeated rather than deadly.
“Good girl,” the Queen said, taking a step forward. “Now for my offer—if you give me the cure, I won’t withhold it. I want the entire planet to be safe, for those who live on it, and those on my Tower who hope to finally join you.”
It sounded too good to be true. “Why would you do that?” Anna asked, but still she withdrew the vial from beneath her boot, ready to hand it over.
“Because,” the Queen said, voice airy as though she floated rather than walked toward Anna, “I am a magnanimous queen, I am a righteous queen, and I am the queen who will bring about the next planetary age.”
As the Queen’s fingers reached for the vial in Anna’s hand, Anna felt the urge to give it to her, the Queen’s vision for the future acknowledging, if not aligning with, Anna’s. Better a queen who would do right by her people than a commissioner who would wrong them—no matter how egocentric her reasons.
“But you didn’t,” Nathaniel said, stepping between them.
Anna snatched the vial back toward her chest.
“You didn’t bring about the planetary age.” Nathaniel’s voice gained stability, but his eyes darted from the Queen to his father. “You didn’t discover the vaccine—my mother did. If anyone deserves credit, it’s her.”
The Queen laughed. “Your mother was only a scientist with no brain for politics or leadership. She didn’t deserve anything except the death she got.”
“Do not speak ill of the dead,” the Commissioner growled, eyes alight with fury. “Apologize to my son.”
Anna’s throat constricted. Here was a man demanding recompense—not for himself, but for his son, whose every day he’d haunted with abuse. The contradiction twisted inside her, her hatred for the Commissioner warring with her agreement with his words. Nathaniel deserved an apology, but more than that, he deserved to be truly loved.
“Careful, Commissioner, or I’ll send you the same way as your wife.” The Queen turned to Nathaniel. “I am sorry, you know, that neither of your parents had enough sense to stay out of my way. Your mother, at least, died without a struggle—poison goes down easily.”
The Commissioner lunged, letting out an animalistic sound.
“No!” Nathaniel grabbed for the Queen but missed.
The Commissioner recoiled, falling back over his feet toward the ground, hand clutching his throat.
Anna didn’t see the knife until it was too late.
“A pity.” The Queen shook her head, wiping the blade on her skirt, a large star adorning its hilt. “I thought my own son would meet death with more dignity.”
Anna’s stomach rolled as she inhaled, the air metallic and sharp with the telltale scent of freshly spilled blood.
The Queen spoke, and Eliza’s world changed. She was no longer the rebel spy who’d corralled her allies into a coup; she was a child again, the Queen’s pupil working for the smallest scrap of approval. She’d spent so much of her life with the Queen at the center. It was foolish to think one little rebellion could break such a strong orbit.
When Anna launched herself at the Queen, Eliza had no choice but to move. The Queen was in danger, and it was Eliza’s duty to protect her. The Queen came first, before country, before self. But Eliza paused as memory overtook instinct. She’d left the Queen’s service, promised to do better, to earn Anna’s trust. She ought to be rushing to help Anna, but her body betrayed her, itching to fight the hands that assaulted her Queen.
Instead, Eliza stalled halfway between steps.
“How dare you!” Anna cried. “You made him an orphan! You pretend to have a conscience, pretend to care about my people, but you don’t care about anyone, do you?”
The Queen gasped for air, managing to rasp, “Are you going to kill me, then?”
If Anna hesitated, the Queen would turn the tables on her. The Queen was older now than she had been when she’d trained Eliza, but she was still a formidable opponent, and against Anna’s inexperience, she would surely win.
Anna let go, and Eliza’s heart sank.
“I’m not a killer.” She took a step back, and another.
The Queen laughed, a coiled, weak thing. “Anyone can be a killer if you teach them how.” And she turned her veiled face on Eliza.
Eliza shuddered under her eyeless gaze. This wasn’t about Anna or the Commissioner; it had all been about Eliza. She had refused an order—and no one refused the Queen. Every Eyes before her had died in the Queen’s service. Would Eliza be the first to die by her hand?
“Eliza, take the vial from her.”
Eliza made it halfway across the room before she processed the Queen’s words. She glanced at Anna, whose eyes grew wide. Her hands were balled at her sides, her legs shaking beneath her.
She clearly thought Eliza was going to attack her.
Eliza was going to attack her.
The Queen’s words drummed a militant beat through Eliza’s veins, instructing her limbs without her consent. She’d been acting on orders so long, she’d forgotten how to act on her own. It was easier to listen than to think, easier to do as she was told.
The Queen had forced her hand once before, and now Eliza would let her do it again.
Anna raised her fists, her lips a thin line. Determination radiated from Anna’s eyes, solid and secure in her position, her soul hardened stone.
“Give me the vial,” Eliza whispered, the words forming half a question, half an answer.
“Don’t do t
his,” Anna growled. “Not again.”
She meant Eliza’s betrayal, when she’d taken the vial from her by force. She couldn’t know about Marla—it wasn’t possible.
Not again.
Anna’s words drilled a hole through Eliza’s heart, and suddenly it was three years ago and the Queen was ordering her to kill Marla, not Anna.
It was the final test. In the end, Eliza and Marla were the last ones standing in the Queen’s competition. They’d reached the end together, but they couldn’t both win. One would become the Queen’s Eyes, and the other would die.
The Queen had given her the order, but it was Eliza who’d chosen to break her promise to run away with Marla, Eliza who’d shut the door between them, and Eliza who’d detonated Marla’s ship as it flew toward freedom.
Eliza had chosen her Queen over her heart.
We are made or unmade by our choices.
“Do it, Eliza,” the Queen hissed.
Eliza moved with precision, hitting Anna to demobilize but not to hurt her.
Anna hit back, her fists pounding against Eliza’s ribs, her arms, her stomach. The bruises, Eliza could bear, but if she did to Anna what she’d done to Marla, Eliza knew she could never trust herself to love again. Neither medic nor mechanic could heal that wound. She did not deserve to recover from a heart she’d broken herself.
With as much force as she could muster, Eliza rushed Anna toward the wall, slamming her against the racks of alchemy instruments and bottles. Anna shoved back, spilling a vial of dark liquid onto the floor.
“Don’t do this,” Anna said, eyes pleading.
“I won’t,” Eliza whispered, her voice so quiet, she wasn’t sure even Anna could hear it. Raising her voice, Eliza said, “Give me the vial, or I’ll take it from you.”
Anna’s eyes widened and she thrashed against Eliza. It was exactly the distraction Eliza had been hoping for. As she half-heartedly fought Anna’s limbs, she slipped her hand behind Anna’s body and snatched another vial from the shelf, then backed away.
“Eliza?” The Queen beckoned, her hand moving through the air with urgency.
