Language is a weapon in the hands of Haters. What we consider to be right and true and good, they twist for their own evil purposes. It does not follow that just because a citizen uses the right words, they are therefore speaking with the right intent. Haters know Approved Lexicon just as well as faithful citizens.
(Elite Watcher Training Manual, 51st edition, page 92)
When I try to explain Wil’s absence, Melody throws her hands in the air.
“If I get my hands on that boy—oh, never mind. The manager is on his way to check you out.” She looks around. “Have you got the . . . ?”
Fishing the memory stick out from under my seat, I nod. Melody hurriedly pulls back the covers of the bed, messing the sheets in a way that leaves me blushing.
“The manager is already suspicious about two Apprentices using the . . . facilities,” Melody says with an embarrassed smile. “Don’t want to make him call in the Squad.”
I pass her the small media player, which she zips into a pocket under her apron. We exit the room.
At the end of the hall, Melody stops beside a housekeepers’ cart, a metal contraption equipped with cleaning supplies, towels, and a bright yellow trash bag.
She waves me toward an open door. “This is the room I’m cleaning right now, so you can hide in here until he’s gone.”
Mute with worry, I step into the vacant space. The heavy curtains are open, and a white beam of sunlight filters through the privacy screen onto the neatly made-up bed. This faces the opposite view from my room. From here I can see the street below, crowds of citizens milling in all directions.
Melody guides me around a corner into an armchair and picks up the nozzle of her vacuum cleaner. With a flick of a switch, we’re surrounded by a humming whine. She looks at me and puts a finger to her lips.
I’ll be right back, she mouths silently. Then she bustles out.
Down the hall, she speaks with a man, their voices reduced to nonsense by the vacuum cleaner’s drone. But I can tell the man is angry as Melody’s apology disappears under his aggressive intonations. A few minutes later, she waddles back into the room.
“Dealt with him. Now we just have to get you somewhere safe.”
“Are we going without Wil?” I ask, feeling a vague flutter of panic.
“Just follow me, and we’ll be okay.” Melody’s face is set, and my vague flutter of panic solidifies into a solid, rising wave.
We hurry back down the corridor to the fire stairs. Propping the door open, Melody places another warning finger over her lips and then ushers me through to the stairwell. We descend. By the time we reach the bottom, Melody’s breath is labored, and her face is sweaty and red. She leans against the wall.
“This . . . is . . . where . . . you go,” she puffs, waving me ahead. Doubtful, I glance at her before pushing through the exit door. It makes an echoing clank and opens onto a wide loading dock lined with laundry bags and folded cardboard boxes.
“This . . . way . . .” huffs Melody, pointing me toward a darkened recess where rows of shelving line the walls. I hang back.
“I don’t . . .”
“No need for that,” says a voice from the street.
I spin around. Wil skips up the steps of the loading dock, a wide smile on his face. “I was on my way to meet you. How did you get here?” His uniform looks ruffled, and there’s a mark on the side of his face.
“Where were you?” My anger wells up from the depths of my fear.
“No time,” Melody says, ushering me toward him. “You should both be gone.”
Wil smiles with a relaxed confidence I don’t feel, and reaches for my hand.
I brush past him, indignant. “We should be getting back.”
“Of course, my lady,” Wil replies, a quirk at the corner of his mouth. Before I know it, he has swept my arm under his own and leads me away from the hotel, whistling an unfamiliar tune as we walk into the sunshine.
We’re in a city park when my impatience gets the better of me.
“Where were you?” I demand, looking nervously around us for any sign of eavesdroppers. Wil eases off the pressure on my arm, and I take a step back to be able to breathe again.
He runs a hand through his hair and gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. My business took longer than expected.”
“What business?” I press. “We were on an errand together. You were supposed to—”
Wil places a single finger on his lips, and I stop mid-sentence. “I was going to wait, but now seems like the right time,” he says. His eyes don’t leave my face. “I know you’re angry and you probably won’t want this, but . . .”
He lifts his hand, and a small silver locket on a fine chain drops from his fingers, dangling in the air in front of me. The small necklace gleams in the afternoon sunlight, a perfect orb of metal. I stare at it, dumbfounded.
Wil’s face looks crestfallen. “I was right. You don’t want it.” He pulls the locket back, scrunching it into his fist.
Ashamed, I make a sudden grab for his hand. “No!” I stammer. “I don’t . . . I mean . . . I mean, you just caught me by surprise. What is it?”
Wil’s crooked smile sends off a wild fluttering in my insides. “It’s for you. I know it’s not much. I don’t have much. But I just wanted to give you something that showed how I feel about you.” He opens his palm where the locket sits like a pool of silvery liquid.
Openmouthed, I gape at him then at the locket. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you like it,” Wil quips. He toys with the chain’s clasp and then holds it up, open in front of me like an invitation. “It will fit under your uniform, and nobody but me will know it’s there. It can be our secret.”
At my wordless nod, Wil links the clasp behind my neck.
“There,” he says with a satisfied smile. “My secret girl.”
My hand trembles as I hold the locket up. It is an oval shape, no bigger than my thumb. I fit my fingernail into the ridge that runs around the edge, ready to flick it open.
Wil’s hand closes around mine. “There’s nothing inside. But I hope that you’ll think of me when you see it,” he says.
He rests his hands on my shoulders, forcing my eyes to meet his. Green eyes, unblinking. Pools of color so deep I could drown in them. Somewhere in the distant reaches of my mind, a small voice of warning cries out, but I ignore it, transfixed by the Apprentice before me.
Wil’s face is solemn. “You are important to me, Kerr. Do you know that?”
“I’m nobody special,” I say awkwardly, staring at my feet.
Wil cups my chin in his hand, lifting my face again. “That’s rubbish, and you know it. If we weren’t in public, I’d . . .” He is suddenly transfixed by something over my shoulder.
“We have to go,” he says abruptly. Instinctively, my head begins to turn to see what grabbed his attention, but he immediately pulls me away.
“Come on,” he says, all businesslike again. I only have a few seconds to shove the locket inside my uniform before we’re nearly jogging along the path toward another street in the distance. “The overcar will be waiting for us.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.
He just shakes his head. “Not here.”
I hurry to keep up. We pass through the stone gate of the park and emerge back onto the street. Wil looks behind us and speeds our pace.
“The overcar is on the next corner,” he says. “We need to move.”
As we turn onto the path, I take the opportunity to look behind me. At first glance, the park looks normal. Small groups of linen-clad citizens mill around, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Nothing looks out of place, as far as I can tell.
Using my Watcher instincts, I search again. In the distance, I see them: two men at the far end of the park. Dressed in the normal white linen uniform of the business class, they stroll along the path as if they are out for an afternoon walk. But their steps are a little too fast for a relaxed walker, and the way they cast glances at us leaves a cold, prickling fear at the back of my neck.
“Who are they?”
He silences me. “Don’t look suspicious.” He throws his arm around my neck, propelling me forward along the pavement.
I catch sight of a passerby watching us, one eyebrow raised. “This is worse,” I yank away. “Two Apprentices fraternizing? What were you thinking?”
“Never mind.” Wil is tense. “We’re almost there.”
In the distance ahead, a silver blob idles beside the path. A small red light gleams on the roof, indicating that it’s booked. Our ride is waiting. I glance back again. The two men have thrown off all illusions of being out for a stroll. They’re running.
“Wil.” I grab his wrist. “They’re gaining.”
Wil lets out a string of curses that shock me. He pulls me into a run. We reach the overcar as the two men burst from the park onto the pavement. Panting heavily, Wil rips the door open and leaps in behind me.
With a swift swipe of his ID on the panel, he turns to the driver, pasting on a polite smile that doesn’t quite work. “We’re running late to get back to our Academy. Any chance you could make it a quick ride? Please?”
The driver nods and speeds off, throwing me backward into the seat. The two men have stopped near the corner, frustration written large on their faces. They watch us drive away, eyes never leaving us until we turn a corner, out of their sight.
I start to ask again but am silenced by a warning scowl from Wil. His face is pale, and beads of sweat have broken out across his forehead.
“They’ll know we’re from the Academy,” I whisper.
“Shut up! Can you just let me think!” Wil’s voice so harsh that I shrink back. Seeing the expression on my face, he calms. “I’m sorry.” It doesn’t sound sincere.
My hand floats up toward the locket hidden beneath my uniform. I almost want to rip it off and throw it back at him. But the image of those two men staring after us leaves me frozen in fear, so I just clasp the locket against my skin.
The ride continues in a tense silence. Wil has become a stranger, ashen-faced and shaking.
In the silent opulence of the overcar’s plush interior, I have questions that find no answers.
“In Lyric’s country, we may sing
free of fear or threat or woe.
In Lyric’s country we are known
And so in his name we go.
“Sing for joy, children sing,
Lyric’s country is our home.
You are known, chosen, loved,
With the Composer as your King.”
Akela leans back in her chair. The last echoes of the song fade from the concrete bunker walls. Her face glows.
“You have done well, Cadence,” she tells me with a wide smile. “That was exactly what I had hoped you’d bring to us. It was so good to hear it again.”
“Thank you, Dorm Leader.”
“Tomorrow I will have you sing it to our Sirens. Then we will prepare for your next field trip.”
My heart stills. “When?”
“In three days. Crucible has picked another location for you to visit, and I found a nearby Siren cell. They have much of the same material as us, but there are some additional pieces we haven’t been able to hear for some time. Your cover will be that you’re investigating life in the industrial zones.”
“How do you know where these people are?” I ask curiously.
Akela shakes her head. “The less you know, the safer it is.”
“Is . . . is Wil coming too?”
“Is there a reason he shouldn’t?”
I swallow nervously. “No, I just wanted to check. That’s all.”
“She needs me to hold her hand.” Wil remains jovial. The back of his hand brushes mine in a way that sends all of my nerves zinging. I fight back the impulse to clutch at the silver locket again.
Akela’s glare darts at him. “None of that, Wil.”
“What?” Holding his palms up, Wil’s face is a mask of wounded innocence.
The concern on Akela’s face deepens. “I know it’s Triumph of Love season and the rules are relaxed. But priority number one right now is to find the Song. Don’t get distracted.”
“Well, you did put the two of us in a room together.”
“And I can remove you both just as easily. So behave.”
“You know me.” Wil grins. “I always behave.”
“Until recently.” Akela looks from Wil to me and back again. “But now I’m thinking you need a chaperone.”
“But—” I blurt out, feeling my face flushing with embarrassment.
“Akela, that’s not necessary,” Wil says.
“Those responses don’t make me feel any more confident.” She gives us a distinctly suspicious look.
We share an anxious glance. “Look,” Wil says. “It’s true that we . . . we do enjoy each other’s company.” Akela’s eyes narrow but Wil rushes on. “I know what you’re going to say, but we can be trusted. When we’re on mission, we’re on mission. We wouldn’t risk everyone’s lives just to fraternize. Elites focus on the goal, not the game, remember?”
The sincerity in his voice rings around the room, and even I begin to feel convinced. His words seem to have an effect on Akela, too.
After a few more tense seconds, she reluctantly nods. “All right. But this is your final warning. The mission comes first. If I get even a whiff of misbehavior or distraction from either of you, I will find someone else to escort Cadence.” She eyes us sharply. “Do you understand?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes, Dorm Leader.”
“Of course,” Wil assures her.
“That means here on campus, up in your rooms, out there in Love City—everywhere,” Akela says pointedly. “Don’t do anything that will make me regret trusting you. Okay?”
“Okay,” we both say together.
“The Composer be with you both.” She rises, dismissing us.
Later that night, I hide in my bunk, scooting back against the wall as far as I can to avoid the surveillance camera. Then I pull the chain up around my neck to take a closer look. The silver is smooth against my fingers. Tiny white spots from the ceiling lights are reflected on the curved silver face like stars. I tilt the locket back and forward, watching the light dance across the surface.
“Why would he give me something like this?” I wonder. The answer brings a flush of heat to my face.
“You are important to me, Kerr. Do you know that?”
I fit a fingernail in the thin groove around the edge of the locket, looking for a way to open it. But it remains shut as if soldered together. Resigned, I give up. He told me it was empty, so I guess that’s proof.
Apart from my parents and the regular Triumph propaganda merch, nobody has ever given me a present. It must mean that I am special to Wil. The thought warms me from the inside out, and I let myself replay the day in my head. It feels good to remember the soft, warm glow of hearing the Song. I push aside the little voice of concern and deliberately ignore the memory of the two men who pursued us. I must have imagined it. It wasn’t real. Only the locket and Wil’s words mean anything right now.
“My secret girl.”
Clasping the locket in my fingers, I fall asleep. That night, I dream irrational and wildly romantic dreams of a future where Wil and I get to grow old together. But every time we settle, two mysterious shadows hunt us, turning the dream into a nightmare.