I shrug my dinner jacket on over my shoulders and look at myself in the mirror. I’m in my bedroom—not at my flat, but at my parents’ house, the chancellor’s estate. My hair is still sticking out over my ears, so I drag a comb through the brambles to try to tame it. The picture of composure, elegance, and confidence. Marvelously deceptive. How fortunate I am that no one can see what thoughts lay beneath my pressed evening wear and calm visage.
I put my hand into my jacket pocket to check that it’s still there. The compass. I found it earlier this morning when I was going through my room to see if there was anything else I wanted to take. Tucked away in a box I hadn’t opened in years. It was Tai’s; before that, her grandfather’s. Tai used to carry it around like a talisman, and I always admired it. It’s a beautiful old thing, definitely pre-Famine craftsmanship. Just like Soren’s knife. It’s encased in gold, and the initials engraved on the bottom are elegant and stately. Remy gave it to me after Tai died, since I had been friends with Tai as well. She insisted Tai would have wanted me to have it, even though I protested. Of course, all that was before Remy decided she hated me. For good reason.
“Valerian?”
I start and turn around sharply, shoving the compass back into my pocket. My mother stands in the doorway, looking at me with an odd, furrowed expression on her face. I don’t want her to see the compass. When the Alexanders disappeared and public opinion turned against them, I knew my mother wouldn’t like it if I had an old heirloom of theirs hanging around. That’s when I hid it. And I certainly don’t want her to know I’ve got it in my pocket now.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yeah, of course,” I say. I want to ask them about—about everything, but I’m not going to confront them until we get into the airship. That way, if things go to hell, I can get out and dodge through the throng of people at the Solstice Celebration.
I look her over—she is dressed in a floor-length, deep purple evening gown with diamonds sewn into the v-neck. Even at forty-five, she’s beautiful. I smile falsely and look into her dark brown eyes, her heavy lashes, and wonder how many crimes those lashes have batted away in the last twenty years.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I say, though I doubt she picks up on the sarcasm in my voice.
“Why, thank you, dear,” she says, coming over to kiss me on the cheek and straighten my collar. “The airship is ready.”
I look back at the mirror one last time. “I’m ready, too.”
I am ready, but my mother has no idea what I mean by that. Stashed inside my Sarus are two lightweight, waterproof backpacks with several sets of spare clothes, a week’s worth of food, a water purification bottle, our Bolts, a two-person tent, a month’s supply of mission-ready contact lenses, a Geiger counter, several lengths of thin, lightweight rope, and a hunting knife. And, of course, I’ve also got Soren’s knife, the one I took from him during the raid. Together, Miah and I have enough supplies for a week in the Wilds. With any luck, the celebrations, the speeches, the hashish, the alcohol, and the subsequent hangovers will give us at least eight hours to get as far away from the city as we can. We have no plans, no destination, and nowhere to go except out. Jeremiah wants to head for the nearest Resistance base, but I’ve been lobbying for tracking down an Outsider encampment. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. After tonight, we’ll be hunted. Traitors. Just like Remy and Soren.
My mother smiles and turns to leave, and I give my unruly hair one last pat-down before I follow her out. I take a deep breath. Can I do this?
I trace her steps, walking behind her as we head out the back door to where the airship bay is. My heart is pounding, and I wonder if I’ll be able to bring myself to ask the questions I need to ask. Or to talk to them at all. At this point, I’m not even sure I can look them both in the eyes.
Outside the night is chilly and crisp, but golden lights atop the buildings have already begun to glow, marking the solstice. At midnight, hundreds of thousands of candles will be lit outside of individual homes, illuminating the whole city as a tribute to the Blackout that set off the tailspin of destruction that almost wiped humans off the planet. That night, almost two hundred years ago, neighbors and small communities banded together to support each other and lit candles for light on a night of global darkness. We call it the “Blackout.” They called it the “Apocalypse.” Now, we memorialize it with candles, golden lights, and an enormous party.
I step into the chancellor’s official airship and follow my mother to the lounge. My heart catches in my throat as my father glances over and smiles at me. My palms are sweaty, and I’m sure my cheeks are flushed. My father either doesn’t notice or chooses not to mention it. Instead, he just clasps my arm and says, “Looking sharp, Vale.”
I give him a shaky smile in return and sit down across from him. He beckons my mother to sit next to him, and I try to keep my smile plastered on, even as it threatens to dissolve and run off my face like water.
Neither of them have mentioned my temporary removal from duty two nights ago, although I was reinstated as director of the Seed Bank Protection Project once Aulion was satisfied there was nothing linking me to Remy and Soren’s escape. Despite my few mishaps getting out of the OAC building and my suspicious exit of Sector HQ during a Code Red, no one has yet managed to connect me to the security breaches. Reluctantly, Aulion reported to my father that there was no evidence of my involvement. When my father first learned the two prisoners had escaped, he was enraged. I’ve never seen him so furious. He demanded I conduct a full investigation into their disappearance and that we dispatch soldiers and drones to every corner of the Sector to search for them. His rage was bearable. It’s my mother’s silence that eats at me. She hasn’t said a word on the subject since I heard her speaking to Chan-Yu. Aside from Jeremiah, only my mother and I know that Chan-Yu was supposed to kill Remy and Soren that night. Only we know how thorough his betrayal of the Sector was. And no one—yet—knows that I was complicit as well.
But that’s about to change.
I don’t have much time. It’s only a few kilometers from the chancellor’s estate to the Solstice Ball, and it will only take a few minutes for the airship to make the trip. I clear my throat nervously, and my father’s happy smile changes to one of mild concern.
“Are you okay, Vale? Your face is flushed,” he says, leaning forward to get a better look at me. “You don’t have a fever, do you? Hell of a night to get sick.” My mother instinctively reaches out to feel my forehead as if I were a toddler.
“No, I’m fine.” Some part of me wants to brush her hand away, but another wants to hold it, press it against my cheek one last time. The airship’s engines thrum beneath me, and a few seconds later we lift off. I close my eyes briefly, and Demeter whispers soothingly in my ear.
“You owe them this, Vale.” I nod, trying not to grimace. I wish I could have her by my side as Jeremiah and I make our own escape tonight, but her networking capabilities won’t work once we get outside the Sector. And since she’s just a tool to link to the OAC database, for all intents and purposes, she doesn’t exist without networking. I’m keeping the earpiece with me though, just in case. Maybe just for nostalgia’s sake.
“Mom,” I say, my eyes still closed, forcing the words bodily out of my chest. “I was the one who broke into OAC headquarters the other night.” I open my eyes. My parents are staring at me dully, as though without recognition. “I overheard your conversation with Chan-Yu.” I can’t bring myself to say the second part: when you ordered him to kill Remy and Soren. Suddenly my mother’s face is frozen, too still, too stony. “And … I know about Tai, too.” I think of the compass pressing against my chest, tucked into my jacket. “And Hawthorne.” I turn to look at my father. “Were you a part of all this, Dad?”
A vague, uncomfortable smile surfaces on his face briefly, and his eyes flit back and forth between me and my mother. “A part of what, son?”
“A part of the plan to kill—”
“Stop!” Her voice is low and hot, her body is tense, her hands wrapped so tightly around each other that her knuckles are bone white. Her face, normally so serene and beautiful, is knotted and afraid. But her next words come out in a whisper: “Don’t tell him.”
I gape at her. No words come to me. The smile has fallen off of my father’s face. He squeezes my mother’s knee a little too tightly, and his jaw clenches.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I respond quietly, meeting her eyes. But I say no more, because nothing more has to be said. She knows. She knows what I’ve done and why. Sadness is scrawled across her pale face, her eyes are downcast, and tiny beads of sweat dot her lip. She sets her mouth in a firm, unhappy line and nods at me slightly. It’s an acknowledgment, maybe, that we’ve found ourselves on opposite sides of a bitter decision. But to her left, my father’s eyes are narrowed. They are a window to a brewing storm and for the first time in my life I recognize the steely, grey anger that makes people cower before him, that makes people afraid. He pulls his hand away from her knee as she squeezes her eyes shut, and tears sparkle beneath her lashes. She won’t look at him. He doesn’t know.
My father leans back and casually stretches his arm out behind my mother’s shoulders. His voice is calm but with a harsh edge. “One of you is going to tell me exactly what you’re talking about.” The threat attached to that statement goes unspoken. But I’m not going to further incriminate my mother—she’s done that well enough herself.
Below us, the airship extends its landing gear, and I know the door will soon open. I summon up another smile from the depths and think maybe this will save her. “Dad, we can talk about it tomorrow, after the party. I’m sorry I brought it up.” The airship settles down, and I hear the engines shut off. “Forget it,” I say. “Let’s just have a good time.”
“Too late.” He stands, straightens his tie, holds his hand out for my mother, and with a twisted look on his face, says: “Everyone smile for the cameras.”
The door whooshes open, and I step down off the airship into the cool winter air and let the flashbulbs drown my senses. I pose, laughing, answering idiotic questions, as my mother steps out delicately from the ship and I offer my hand to her, the tears gone already, wiped away, replaced by the cool confidence she always shows the cameras. I kiss her on the cheek and everyone wants a recording, microphones are shoved into our faces, careless eyes and dull people, and it seems as though maybe sound has disappeared from the world and we are living in a vacuum. My mother speaks less than usual and her mask falters once or twice, her lips quiver, her eyelashes blink away liquid that shouldn’t be there, but then the chancellor steps out of his airship, and all eyes turn to him. My mother leans in and whispers in my ear, so quietly I almost don’t hear, “I’m sorry, Vale, but it had to be done.”
There is nothing to say to that. I turn and leave them behind. I stalk away from the cameras, the photographers, the politicians who are now swarming the dock waiting to greet the chancellor and the director general. I’m sure the photographers will be confused about my abrupt departure, but I don’t care. I turn away from it all and head into the party, looking for sympathetic faces, searching for people who don’t believe that murder is the only answer.
For the governors of the Okarian Sector, high-level researchers and administrators at the OAC, and the very, very wealthy citizens, the Solstice Celebration is held every year at a building called Kingsland. It’s an ancient building that managed to survive the Religious Wars and even the Famine Years, despite that it had already been over three centuries old on the day of the Blackout. In our history classes, we learn that Kingsland is actually where the Okarian Sector was properly born. The soldiers and the governors who fought for unity in the Sector and established an aggressive plan to colonize and develop farms in the surrounding areas held their meetings here. Eventually, it became the temporary home for the new government, but it was too small to last for long. Now, restored using modern and recovered technology, we use it for weddings, celebrations, inaugurations, and the like.
Inside, the ballroom is beautiful. Polished black-and-white marble floors are complemented by glowing chandeliers that appear to be floating. The dome is an enormous blue and green stained-glass window, and during the day the sunlight dances through it, shimmering in a way reminiscent of the sunlight playing off of the Great Sea to the east of us. The solemn austerity of the place is offset by thousands of colorful bouquets, all arranged with a bright sunflower in the center.
A waiter approaches with a plate of fresh oysters and scallops in tiny glasses, but I have no appetite tonight. I wave her away and scan the room looking for Jeremiah. I spot him off to one side of the dance floor, talking to Moriana. I’m just heading off in his direction when I’m cornered by a reporter waving his camera in his hands.
“Valerian! Could I get a photo?” He grins at me wildly, flashing two rows of absurdly perfect teeth. I give him a thin-lipped smile and turn towards him, knowing that I am already being watched. Any suspicious activity on my part will make it impossible for me and Jeremiah to get away. The light flashes several times, and then he leans around the side of it. “So, Vale, how do you like your directorship?” This must be one of those rogue photographers, some no-name working for a low-budget publication, trying to get gossip on the politics and celebrities of the Sector.
“It’s great. Really great.” I stare around the room, stretching up on my tiptoes, looking for someone to pull me away from this event.
“Any big plans for the future?”
Does getting away from you as fast possible count?
He ducks behind his camera again and the flash almost blinds me.
“Oh, yes, but I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it. It’s all classified information.” I head off to the left, but he’s back in my face in seconds.
“Do you feel like you’re living up to your parents’ expectations for you, Vale?”
“Meeting and exceeding,” I say breezily, trying to dodge past him. Suddenly, I get an unexpected blessing: To the right of the reporter, I spot Linnea Heilmann, dressed in a marvelous blue floor-length gown, watching us with a faint, almost hopeful smile on her lips. Thinking fast, I give a broad smile to the reporter.
“I’m so sorry, err—buddy—but I’ve just spotted my girlfriend. Would you like to get some photos of us together?” As the reporter’s mouth drops open, no doubt thinking of what price he could get for breaking the story that Valerian Orleán has a mysterious girlfriend, I push past him and boldly stride towards Linnea, smiling at her brightly. She looks just as surprised by my enthusiasm as the reporter, but hers shows only in slightly arched eyebrows and an upward curl of her lip. She stands stock-still, watching me as I approach, and half the guests I pass on my way turn to get a glimpse as well. I reach out to take Linnea’s hand and I bring it delicately to my lips, wondering what this will cost me. She accepts and smiles at me, wiping all traces of surprise from her face. After all, she must have known that I couldn’t hold out against her charms for too long. Indeed, how could I not? I’m sure she’s just wondering why it took me so long.
“Linnea, you are without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the Okarian Sector tonight,” I say, surprised to find that I mean those words sincerely. I rest my hand on the small of her back, and a quick glance around confirms there are at least a dozen onlookers. The flash on the reporter’s camera is going off over and over again. Linnea always was a media darling.
“Thank you, Vale,” she says, giving me a seductive smile. “You look quite dashing yourself.” I wonder how long it will take my mother to find out I’m “dating” Linnea, and if that will make her think I’ve somehow forgiven her for her crimes. Remembering Linnea’s connection to Corine helps remind me who I’m dealing with. Linnea’s hardly trustworthy in this game.
“I’m sure everyone in here is looking forward to finally seeing us together,” I say, out of the corner of my mouth. I can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice, and Linnea looks up at me sharply and her smile fades a little. She’s not an idiot. I feel bad using her as a distraction, but I’m committed to this ruse now, and she’s going to figure out what I’m up to sooner rather than later.
A few minutes later, Linnea and I have fended off several reporters, and I have steered her to the dance floor for our first “formal dance as a couple,” as she put it to one of the reporters. The chilly edge in her voice told me she knew something else was up. As the music begins and I lead her river of blond hair around the other couples, her piercing blue eyes slice my façade to pieces. She sighs enormously, and I almost laugh—she always did have a flair for the dramatic.
“Okay, as happy as I was when I thought you might actually want to spend the evening in my company, I can see now that you want something from me.”
Guilt resurfaces in my gut. Am I legitimately hurting her? Am I no better than my parents, manipulating people to suit my needs? I put my hand on her hip and try to conjure up a look of sincerity and concern. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremiah and Moriana staring at us, obviously disturbed by this turn of events.
“I do want to spend the night in your company, Linnea. But bigger things are happening than you and me tonight.” Her eyebrows arch and her eyes widen. “I’m sorry if you think I’m using you, so I’m going to be completely frank. I need a favor.” Her face settles into a cold, judgmental stare.
“What makes you think I have any interest in helping you?”
“Maybe you don’t. But I can give you something in return.”
“It had better be worth my while.”
“It’ll more than compensate for the tragedy of letting Valerian Orleán slip through your fingers tonight,” I respond, maybe too harshly. I’m not happy about the possibility that, to her, I really am, as Moriana said, just a few rungs from the top of the power ladder, and Linnea is using me just as much as I’m using her. We are pawns in each other’s games. “You were asking about Elijah Tawfiq….”
She stops moving. Still as a statue, eyes as wide as the sea. Does she really care about him that much? If she does, I’ll feel a lot less guilty about not going along with her romantic whims. “I can tell you where he is, but in return, you have to provide a diversion for me tonight.”
“Eli?” She shakes herself back into action, and I can see her mask slide back into place after that brief moment of astonishment. “And what, precisely, would I do with that information?”
I shrug. I know she’s already gone for it. I don’t have to persuade her.
“What do I care? Use it to track him down, if you’re still in love with him.” Her mouth purses ever so slightly. “Or sell it to an interested buyer. You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you can put valuable information like that to good use. If you cover for me—and don’t even pretend that lying would be difficult for you—”
“What are you doing tonight,” she interrupts, “that’s so desperate you’re willing to sell me highly classified information?”
“I can’t tell you that, Linnea. I just need you to cover for me.” Her eyes narrow. But when she responds, I know I’ve sold her.
“How do I know you’ll follow through on your end of the bargain?” I pause. Good question. I haven’t thought this through yet. Then again, I haven’t thought any of it through. I’m playing this game moment by moment.
“You don’t,” I say. “You’ll just have to trust me. But I’ll give you something else. I don’t want you to give some throwaway diversion—I want you to tell everyone we spent tonight together. That we slept together. That way you get both the big conquest and Eli’s whereabouts, and if I don’t follow through, at least you’ll have the first part.”
I feel her eyes flicker over my face. I’m sure she’s wondering what on earth has driven me to this point. Of course, what she doesn’t know is that neither of the things I’m offering mean anything to me anymore.
“Okay,” she acquiesces, casually tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’ll do it. But I want you to prepare the message right now. Instruct your C-Link to send me a message at 0600 hours in the morning with all the available information on Eli’s whereabouts.” When I hesitate, she snaps. “Now, Vale!” I can see why she and my mother get along so well.
“Demeter,” I say cautiously, looking around to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “Prepare a message to auto-send to Linnea Heilmann at 0600 hours in the morning. Include in the message all the information about the whereabouts of Elijah Tawfiq—” of course, she doesn’t know that we don’t know exactly where Elijah is, but I guess she’ll find out in the morning, “—including last sightings, verified location, and association with the Resistance.” I pause and look Linnea in the eyes, still speaking to Demeter. “Make the courriel untraceable. And make its release conditional upon Linnea’s release of a public statement tonight between eleven and midnight saying that she’s going home with me.”
“Done,” Demeter responds. “You’ve gone insane, haven’t you?” I bite back a laugh. Strange how I will miss an AI program more than almost anyone else I know.
Linnea smiles at me with a trace of real happiness. She’s won her prize. For a moment I almost allow myself to forget the game we’re playing. She is beautiful, especially when she smiles. I find myself wishing that circumstances were different, that I really could spend the night with her, that we could genuinely enjoy each other’s company. But I remind myself that if circumstances were different, I might not be about to run away from everything I’ve ever known. My mother might not be a murderer; Remy might still be here; Tai might still be alive. So many things could be different. So I smile back at Linnea and take the earliest opportunity to duck off the dance floor and find Jeremiah and Moriana, desperate to get away from this tragicomic masquerade.
When I find them, Jeremiah grabs my shoulder and glares at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You are so not going to go out with her … are you?” Moriana asks.
“I don’t know; maybe I’ve decided I need a diversion.” I look at Jeremiah. “After all, I think this is going to be a long night and declaring my undying love for Linnea might just be the thing I need to get everyone off my back.” Jeremiah stares at me, his brows furrowed, mouth terse, his face creased in suspicion.
“Okay, I get it,” he says finally.
Moriana punches him in the arm. “You can’t seriously think it’s okay for him to be hanging out with her?”
“No, I don’t think that, but I do think it’s time everyone stops telling Vale what to do.”
“Well, she’s bad news, and don’t expect me to stop telling you that anytime soon.”
I reach out and give her a hug. “You don’t need to worry about me spending time with Linnea.”
A pang of regret rolls through me. Moriana is my oldest friend. I hate deceiving her, and I hate leaving her behind. Miah and I debated whether or not we should tell Moriana, but ultimately we decided against it. First of all, she’d want to come with us, but Moriana Anderson in the Wilds? She’d hate it after day two. And second, she idolizes my mother. If Moriana continues working in Mom’s lab, there’s a chance she could learn something that would be valuable to us later. But only if she’s not under any suspicion. Only if my mother is convinced that Moriana knows nothing about our disappearance. And that means we can’t tell her. It almost broke Miah’s heart to know that he’d be breaking hers. But it’s the only answer, the only way to keep her safe.
“Now stop worrying about my love life. You two need to go have fun. Get out on the dance floor or find a dark corner. The evening will be over before you know it.”
Moriana looks at me and then at Jeremiah whose face is set in a grim smile. “I’m not an idiot. What is going on with you two?”
He pulls her close and kisses the top of her head. “Nothing’s going on except that I’m with the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing, most—”
“Okay, okay,” Moriana laughs. “You’ve already told me that about a dozen times tonight.” She pulls Miah toward the dance floor, and I watch them go and wonder what tomorrow will bring for all of us.
Left to wander the floor until my father gives the celebration address, I schmooze with politicians, ask researchers and professors for details on their work, and even do a few more photo ops with Linnea just to boost my alibi and keep her happy. I determinedly avoid being in my mother’s presence, even in her line of sight. She makes no effort to find me, whether out of shame or fear of another confrontation. A few times I catch my father trying to corner me, but each time I manage to drag Linnea into the spotlight again, in front of the cameras, or to find some bigwig to talk to, making it impossible for him to confront me. But for the most part, he’s too preoccupied to find me. There’s too much else going on tonight.
In some small, superficial way, Linnea and I actually manage to enjoy each other’s company, telling little jokes about General Aulion and Evander Sun-Zi, admiring the decorations, and commenting sarcastically on the absurd fashion pieces the partygoers have chosen for the evening. At one point she catches my eye and gives me a small, narrow smile, and I wonder if maybe I’ve misjudged her. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.
****
About two hours later, I lean tiredly against one of the columns bordering the dance floor. The pianist picks out a slow song, and all I can think of is how his timing and rhythm is off—he’s tripping over the harmony on the left hand, and while it doesn’t sound awful, both Soren and I could play this song asleep.
I see Jeremiah and Moriana dancing together, her head against his shoulder. She barely comes up to his chin, and she looks tiny in his arms, like a fawn in a grizzly’s embrace. His eyes are closed, and I can see his hand playing in her hair, coiling slender tendrils around his fingers. It hits me—for the first time, it truly hits me—that we’re leaving. Maybe forever. And if not, whatever we come back to, it won’t be the same. We won’t be the same. I feel weak, hollowed out as if everything I’ve ever thought about myself has crumbled and wafted away like dust. I steady myself against the column behind me, leaning my head back and staring up at the ceiling. Flashes of memories dart through my mind like silver fish, strange and unfamiliar as though viewed through a distorted lens. Everything looks different now that I am leaving it all behind. But I can’t stay. That much is clear. Not after what I’ve done. Not after what I’ve learned.
Suddenly the song is over, and a new song, excited, anticipatory, begins. It’s the announcement that my father is about to begin his speech. The crowd turns towards the podium, set up at the very front of the great hall, and a spotlight trains on him as he ascends the dais, smiling and waving. He stands for a few seconds, grinning for the cameras before he begins. I wonder what it’s costing him to keep his composure now.
“Friends, fellow citizens of Okaria,” he starts at last, “We’ve gathered here tonight to celebrate another important milestone in the history of our Sector. Tonight is the one hundred and sixth Winter Solstice Celebration since the formal incorporation of the Okarian Sector, and tonight marks the beginning of a new year!” There are cheers and applause, loud, raucous noise, and as I look up at my father’s strong, handsome face, I wonder who it really was who raised me to believe in the right thing, to treat people decently and fairly, and to believe in myself. What is in store for him and my mother? Will he feel just as betrayed as I do? Or is he guilty of crimes as terrible as hers?
“We are gathered here tonight for a ritual and a celebration. The solstice marks the beginning of a new growing season, and this year, that has a special significance: Thanks to the dedication of the Farm workers and the OAC scientists, this annum marks seven full years since the Sector has seen a death from starvation!” Huge roars of approval meet with ringing cheers at my father’s triumphant announcement—after all, that’s something that is definitely worthy of celebration.
“After the Religious Wars destroyed the old world, and the Famine Years consumed vast swaths of human civilization, we who have fought with our parents and our grandparents—and now our children—recognize how powerful a victory that is. And fought we have.” Philip’s expression turns grave and his eyes cloudy, as if remembering the battles himself. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. His acting skills clearly haven’t been compromised, despite his anger and confusion from earlier. “We have fought to unify the Sector—to bring the northeastern quadrant together under a combined, cohesive system of government, so that we may work together to protect ourselves from threats from the outside and from starvation on the inside. We have fought every year to plant and grow enough food to feed every single citizen of this nation. We have fought to increase crop production and nutrient production through the dedicated work of our scientists.” A smattering of applause.
I feel a light touch on my shoulder and turn to see Jeremiah.
“Now’s the time. She’s in the bathroom.”
“—as we celebrate the solstice, we must remember the violent, tormented history that shadows our society and do everything in our power to prevent a—”
I close my eyes and shut out my father’s words.
“Vale. Let’s go,” Jeremiah says. His jaw is set, his eyes steady and determined. “If we wait, we’re going to miss our opportunity.”
“You first,” I mutter. “Take off your jacket and go out the service door.” We’d both studied the Kingsland blueprints before packing today, just in case we had to dodge security staff or escape through a side route. “I’ll tell Demeter to bring up the Sarus, and I’ll meet you up there. But first, I’m going to put on a show with Linnea, and I don’t want her to see the two of us together.”
He nods and mutters a gruff okay and then disappears through the crowd.
“—never forget the deaths, the disease, the terror and the bloodshed behind us, and fight against those who would return us to those days—”
I catch Philip’s subtle jab at the Resistance. What would you think if you knew what I’m doing tonight, Father? Would you try me for treason? Starve and imprison me the way you did—the way we did—Remy and Soren?
I catch Linnea and sweep her up for one final romantic kiss before I smile at her and whisper that she had damn well better uphold her end of the bargain. She pretends to look shocked at what I’m saying and then titters nervously. I hope everyone thinks I’ve invited her back to my flat tonight. How many layers of lies will I paint on my face? What would Remy think if she heard I’m sleeping with Linnea? She probably wouldn’t care. I depart just as the crowd begins clapping at whatever charming statement the chancellor has just made. I slip out the service door, and as best as I can tell, everyone is too focused on watching and listening to my father’s speech to pay any attention to me. I hear the door swing shut behind me and my father’s words, the murmur of the crowded hall, and my former life fades behind me like a dissipating dream.