by Kevin George
Paige scrambled toward Love, staying low, calling for everyone to stop, that they were scaring Love, that he didn’t know what he was doing. In the brief moment when all guards backed away—or were forced back—Paige hurried forward and wrapped her arms around Love’s midsection, the side of her head pressing against his chest, feeling the fluttering of his heart within.
“You have to calm down,” she urged. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”
Love nodded, the tension easing from his body. The guards remained on edge and Ryo called for the guards to restrain him, but nobody made a move to follow that command. In the chaos of yelling, Paige stood straighter and leaned closer to Love’s ear.
“You can’t let them know who you are,” she whispered, “or what you are.”
Zander and his men slowly backed out of the elevator, giving Paige enough room to guide Love into the QZ hallway. Just when she thought the situation had settled and they could discuss a peaceful resolution, Love looked down the hallway, screeched the word ‘Jonas!’ and flexed his back, his giant wings bursting through his heavy clothing.
The wings knocked Paige to the floor. They stretched from one wall of the hallway to the other side, unable to spread out completely. Paige was afraid of the trouble Love was making for himself, but she couldn’t help marveling at the incredible sight. The guards felt the same way, at least at first, gasping in awe and terror as Love flapped the wings and lifted off the floor. He tried to fly forward, but his wings hit the walls and the ceiling, his body careening from side to side. Blood spurted from his injured wing and shoulder, spraying the guards below him, but that didn’t stop Love from trying to fly past them.
The guards didn’t remain shocked for long. A few stabbed up with their spears, striking Love in the legs, causing him to squawk in pain and veer more wildly to the side.
“Stop!” Paige yelled, pushing past several guards in her way. “He’s already hurt! It doesn’t have to be like this!”
Love continued fighting, managing to stay aloft until one of the guards dropped his weapon and leapt, wrapping both arms tightly around Love’s leg, dragging him to the floor. Love and the guard ended up in a tangle of arms, legs and flying feathers, at which time the rest of the guards charged forward, kicking and punching Love and anyone else that ended up in the scrum.
Paige tried to intercede but was immediately knocked back. Her head smashed against the wall and her vision swirled. She still found the strength to crawl toward the beating, where Love lifted his head and squawked the name ‘Jonas’ a final time before being kicked in the face and collapsing into silence. . .
CHAPTER FOUR
Emma Weller greeted every citizen of The Third by name, whether they were in line to leave The Third or whether they were returning—filthy and bloodied and caked in dirt—from long shifts ‘scratching rocks’ in The Fifth. She thanked her people for remaining calm and promised to figure out how to make their lives better. Her very presence provided the Weller leadership that had been glaringly absent and she calmed the chaos that had been brewing in the Main Tunnel.
Emma shielded her people from the One guards with whom they’d been fighting, many of those guards just as relieved that she’d interceded to prevent injuries and certain death among both sides of the rioting. Not only had she stopped a potential war from breaking out—likely ending in what would’ve been massacre for so many Thirders—she’d also saved the life of the one person she hated most of all.
Prince Oliver realized that without Emma’s help—without her stopping The Third’s citizens from overwhelming him and the guards on duty—he wouldn’t be alive right now, on his knees, recovering from the onslaught of rioting Thirders that had nearly overwhelmed him. A few parts of Oliver’s body were sore, but he felt like his ego should’ve been wounded most of all. Somehow, it wasn’t. Not only did Oliver harbor no ill feelings toward the Thirders who’d intended to kill him, he looked at the people in a whole new light.
One person, in particular, he couldn’t look away from. He couldn’t help but watch and marvel at the way he’d been so wrong about her for so long. Oliver recalled a moment in the tunnels when he’d seen true strength and grit from Emma, but he’d since convinced himself that that hadn’t been the true side of her, that she’d merely had a few brave moments while facing dire circumstances. Now he realized how wrong he’d been, not just of his opinion on Emma Weller but about a lot of things in life. He adjusted his helmet, glad it hid his eyes well enough so she couldn’t see him staring at her.
Not that she’d given him a second glance since saving his life, nor had she paid attention to any of the One guards licking their wounds from the riot. The guards had turned to Oliver for guidance, but he’d waved them away, allowing Emma plenty of room to deal with her people. Though Emma took the time to speak to any Thirder that approached, Prince Oliver watched her head turning toward The Third’s entrance, her eyes looking toward her section with great longing. Knowing how long she’d been stuck in The Second—and knowing how badly she’d wanted to return home—made Oliver even more impressed that she didn’t race inside the moment she had a taste of freedom.
Instinct told Prince Oliver to stand up, race back to his hovercraft and return to One, where he could rally a larger squadron and return to squash any hint of a rebellion. He had no doubt his father would do just that. But despite not being out of danger just yet—Thirders continued to outnumber One guards and could turn on them at any moment—Oliver stood and walked toward the entrance, where two lines had melded into one large group and Thirders no longer marched toward The Fifth. He didn’t make it a few steps before being cut off.
“Their behavior is unacceptable, Your Illustriousness,” said the leader of the guards.
“How do you expect them to act after the way you’ve treated them?” Oliver asked.
“Your Illustriousness. . . my orders—”
“Are to leave them alone for now,” Oliver snapped.
“But The Fifth. . . the work that needs to be completed. . . the schedule is very specific. . . the number of needed workers is very specific. . .”
“The Lord has decreed that I will handle that from now on,” Prince Oliver said.
The guard opened his mouth but only managed a gasp before fading back with the rest of his men. Despite the glares from The Thirders, Oliver continued forward, stepping close enough to hear Emma’s conversations with the men and women of her home section. A particularly filthy woman hobbled through the pack, falling to her knees when she reached Emma.
Emma kneeled in front of the woman, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder, her eyebrows lowering with concern. Normally, Oliver would’ve viewed Emma’s empathy as weakness, but there was something about the way people gathered around her, the way they rallied to her side, the way she inspired confidence and a sense of calm. It was unlike any reaction he’d ever seen his father receive from his subjects, and it made Oliver question every decision he’d ever made, every feeling he’d felt, every direction in life he’d ever considered taking.
“Please, rest, ma’am,” Emma told the woman. “And can someone please get her some—”
The woman shook her head, raising a hand to stop Emma. Emma’s frown lowered until her eyes narrowed on the woman. A spark of recognition flashed in Emma’s eyes and her hands slowly moved to her mouth.
“Professor Phillips?” Emma asked, receiving a nod from the woman. “They took you, too?”
“And. . .”—the woman coughed wildly, causing a tiny storm of dust to rain down off her hair—“. . . and Ford and Stark and Bernard, too. Except none of them made it.”
“But the university. . . without the professors. . . who’s been teaching classes?” Emma asked.
She looked around at other faces, recognizing more teachers, more students, more leaders of different project teams, men and women whom she’d once dreamed about working for on projects she’d once studied for endless hours.
“And they aren’t the onl
y ones that went to dig and never made it back,” Professor Phillips said. “There were others. . . many others.”
“I’m sorry for your losses,” Oliver said, stepping closer to the crowd. “The Lord and Jonas would never wish such a fate upon—”
“Fool,” a Thirder snapped.
“Liar,” another accused.
In a matter of seconds, the crowd whipped itself into a frenzy and a few stomped in his direction, ready to finish the job they’d started before. Prince Oliver stood his ground, not retreating a single step, not glancing back at the guards he knew were watching closely. He did aim his palm back at the guards, hoping to stop them from interceding. Emma raised her hands high, waving for her people to see.
“Please, everyone, don’t make this situation worse than it’s already been,” she called out. “Prince Oliver is ignorant when it comes to matters involving reality versus his precious Lord.”
A few chuckles swept through the crowd, but even more Thirders looked to the prince for his reaction. Oliver’s hands quivered and he felt the others staring at him, expecting him to snap at Emma for the way she dared to question him. But the thought of defending the Lord and Jonas—the thought of defending everything his father stood for—made Oliver want to be sick. He remained quiet, the extent of his disapproval coming from his crossed arms.
“The Lord and Jonas insist on hard work from every citizen of the City Below, regardless of which section they’re from,” said the leader of the guards.
When the guard looked to Oliver for agreement, the prince barely managed a nod. Emma snorted, her people watching her reaction, when Professor Phillips suddenly collapsed to the floor. The lead guard rushed toward the downed professor, ordering her to stand up, but didn’t make it within ten feet when a wall of Thirders formed and blocked his path. Emma hurried to the professor and kneeled beside her, draping the woman’s arm over her shoulder, lifting her to her feet.
“Can’t you see she’s suffering from exhaustion?” Emma asked the guard, though Oliver wondered if those words had been meant for him. “Can’t you see how many of them are suffering the same? She needs food and water and rest.”
“Everyone needs that, including me and my men,” the guard snapped. “But all workers receive equal shares of all three. We can’t shut down expansion of The Fifth for everyone to sleep.”
“Not everyone, just Professor Phillips,” Emma said before looking around at dozens of other exhausted faces and beaten bodies. “Actually, anyone that’s too tired to work safely. We can’t have my people too exhausted to focus. There’s no need to put them in danger.”
Emma hooked her arm with Professor Phillip’s and began to lead the woman toward The Third’s entrance. Others followed, while order organically formed in the line for those heading to The Fifth, though not as many joined the line as had been in it before. One guards finally sprang into action, retaking their posts at The Third’s entrance, blocking Emma’s path and insisting that nobody was allowed to choose their time off. More words were exchanged between the guards and the Thirders, threats escalating, tones angrier, the threat of violence and rioting growing.
When Emma spoke again, the entire crowd quieted, and her eyes locked on Oliver.
“I think the prince can better attest to what the Lord and Jonas has to say about this situation,” Emma said.
Oliver headed toward the entrance. His personal guards tried to follow, but he held up a hand to stop them. He sensed their hesitancy to let him head off on his own a second time, but they knew better than to disobey an order.
“Let her in,” Oliver said to the surprise of One guards at the entrance. “Let anyone who’s not physically capable of working back into The Third so they can get proper rest.”
A hint of a smile formed at the corner of Emma’s mouth, but it quickly disappeared. She nodded to him before starting back in, but she found her path still blocked.
“But Your Illustriousness,” the entrance guard began, “we received explicit instructions to never allow—”
“Your instructions are coming from me now,” the prince said, stomping forward, the glares he received from the guards now matching those still received from Thirders. “My father put me in charge of The Third and Fifth from this point forward, so I’d suggest doing as I say unless you want to help with the digging. . . or if you want to take a trip Beyond the Light.”
The entrance guard’s eyes went wide and he bowed his head.
“It would be an honor to travel Beyond the Light, but I hope to keep contributing to the City Below however the Lord and Jonas wants,” the guard said.
The guard raised his head and nodded for his men to step aside. With The Third’s entrance wide open, exhausted workers began to pour in, clearing out the Main Tunnel in a matter of minutes. Emma started to bring the professor inside but hesitated, asking a nearby Thirder to assist. Though Emma gazed longingly toward her home, she turned to Oliver before the prince could take a single step into The Third.
She placed a hand on his chest to stop him. Her touch made his skin tingle and he suddenly found it difficult to take a breath within his helmet. In a way, he hated her for having this effect on him. He tried to remind himself of all the reasons they’d never gotten along, but he couldn’t think of a single one. Shame filled him when he saw her up close, when he saw the faint outlines of scars that hadn’t quite healed from the time he’d had to punish her. . .
But she’s able to forgive me, Oliver thought, relieved she’d taken so kindly to his attempts at helping. Her lips might be frowning and her eyebrows doing the same, but why else would she be coming to me? Why else would she have saved me?
“I meant what I said about me being in charge,” he said, trying to reinforce his desire to make things right with her and her people. “Things will be different. I promise I’ll make better decisions.”
“Things will be different as long as I’m helping make those decisions for The Third,” Emma said, slowly nodding.
“Oh,” Oliver said. “I think. . . yeah, sure, we can talk things over.”
Emma’s frown dipped deeper. She didn’t need to voice her doubt for Oliver to know what she was thinking.
“I understand your hesitations,” Oliver said. “This is all so. . . new. But I plan to prove every promise I make, as long as you keep an open mind.”
“I don’t have any other choice,” Emma said, lowering her hand.
Prince Oliver began to walk toward the entrance again when Emma cut him off.
“You can start proving your trustworthiness to me now,” she said. “Let me go into The Third alone. Let me handle my people alone, at least until they’re better rested and fed and ready to have an open mind to your changes.”
Oliver looked over her shoulder and into The Third. The lighting was dimmer than anywhere else he’d ever seen in the City Below, but he still saw the shadowy outlines of schools, buildings and walkways. Deeply ingrained in him was a general annoyance for The Third and its people and their way of life and their way of thinking, but he realized those feelings had been fostered in him by his father. Now that he saw the way Thirders stuck up for each other—even in the face of certain death at the hands of One guards—Oliver witnessed something in Emma’s people that he’d never seen before.
For years, he’d watched One guards at each other’s throats, literally trying to pound each other senseless in the combat trenches, all for a chance to improve their standing among the hierarchy of guards. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized strength came in other forms and that Emma’s people would die for her. He’d never felt such a yearning in life as he did then to prove himself to the Thirders.
“If I let you in there on your own, how do I know you’ll ever come out?” the prince asked. “How do I know you’ll ever let me in? Or that you—”
“Guess we’ll have to learn to trust each other,” Emma said.
With a final gaze toward The Third, Oliver nodded and stepped back, afraid that he’d ne
ver see Emma again, but pleased that this decision would no doubt enrage his father.
“I’ll go to The Fifth to see firsthand how the expansion is running,” the prince said. “Then I’ll return here so we can figure out the best ways for The Third and Fifth to work in harmony. . . safely.”
Oliver started to leave but stopped when Emma called out his name. He fought the urge to smile, expecting her to thank him or praise him or offer words of appreciation for how he’d changed the course of her life. But when he turned to face her, he saw her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed.
“I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing—”
“No game,” Oliver interrupted.
“—but I’ll never believe that anyone but King Edmond is in charge until all One guards are gone from this section of city,” she said. “Until they’re gone from The Third and The Fifth and the Main Tunnel in between. That’s the only way you and I will ever be in charge the way you described.”
Oliver glanced toward the One guards huddled together on the opposite side of the tunnel. They watched his every movement, but the prince didn’t know if they were waiting to protect him or waiting to watch with pleasure if the Thirders decided to attack again.
“I’m not sure the guards will ever go away completely,” he admitted to Emma.
Her jaw clenched and she shrugged. “If anyone can make it happen, it’s you. . . if that’s what you truly want to happen.”
Emma turned and left before Oliver could say another word. He watched her go, walking into The Third at first before breaking into a run, merging with the rest of her people until Oliver no longer saw her in the crowd. He stood in place for nearly a minute, the noise from the tunnel becoming a distant echo, only the sound of his guards muttering nearby. He finally turned toward The Fifth, knowing it was the only place left to go. Knowing it was miles to The Fifth, he started toward the hovercraft parked nearby but didn’t take two steps before stopping.
