Prodigy (16 page)

Anden nods back. “Good,” he says, his voice muffled through the glass. “Continue,
please.” The Senators keep their arms crossed and their lips tight.

Dr. Sadhwani’s questions are ceaseless, drowning me in their never-ending torrent.
When will the assassination attempt take place?
On the Elector’s planned route to the warfront city of Lamar, Colorado.
Do you know where the Elector will be safe?
Yes.
Where should he go instead?
A different border city.
Is Day going to be a part of this assassination attempt?
Yes.
Why is he involved?
He’s indebted to the Patriots for fixing his injured leg.

“Lamar,” Dr. Sadhwani murmurs as she types more notes into her black device. “I guess
the Elector will be switching his route.”

Another piece of the plan falls into place.

The questions finally come to an end. Dr. Sadhwani turns away from me to talk with
the others, while I let a breath out and sag against the detector machine. I’ve been
in here for exactly two hours and five minutes. My eyes meet Anden’s. He’s still standing
near the glass doors, surrounded on both sides by soldiers, his arms crossed tightly
over his chest.

“Wait,” he says. The examiners pause in their deliberations to look over at their
Elector. “I have a last question for our guest.”

Dr. Sadhwani blinks and waves at me. “Of course, Elector. Please.”

Anden walks closer to the glass separating us. “Why are you helping me?”

I push back my shoulders and meet his eyes. “Because I want to be pardoned.”

“Are you loyal to the Republic?”

A final collage of memories comes into focus. I see myself holding my brother’s hand
on the streets of our Ruby sector, our arms raised in salute to the JumboTrons as
we recite the pledge. There’s Metias’s face, his smile and also his strained look
of worry on the last night I saw him. I see the Republic flags at my brother’s funeral.
Metias’s secret online entries scroll past my eyes—his words of warning, his anger
at the Republic. I see Thomas pointing his gun at Day’s mother; I see her head snap
backward at the bullet’s impact. She crumples. It’s my fault. I see Thomas clutching
his head in the interrogation room, tortured, blindingly obedient, forever captive
to what he did.

I’m not loyal anymore. Am I still loyal? I am right here in the Republic’s capital,
helping the Patriots assassinate the new Elector. A man I once pledged my allegiance
to. I am going to kill him, and then I’m going to run away. I know that the lie detector
is going to reveal my betrayal—I’m distracted, consumed with the conflict of needing
to make things right with Day, but hating to leave the Republic at the mercy of the
Patriots.

A shudder runs through me.
They’re just images. Just memories.
I remain silent until my heartbeat steadies. I close my eyes, take a deep breath,
and then open them again. “Yes,” I say. “I am loyal to the Republic.”

I wait for the lie detector to flare red, to beep, to reveal that I’m lying. But the
machine is quiet. Dr. Sadhwani keeps her head down and types in her notepad.

“She’s telling the truth,” Dr. Sadhwani finally says.

I’ve passed. I can’t believe it. The machine says I’m telling the truth. But it’s
only a machine.

*   *   *

Later that night, I sit on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. Shackles still
hang from my wrists, but otherwise I’m free to move around. I can still hear the sounds
of occasional muffled conversation outside my room, though.
Those
guards are still there.

I’m so exhausted. I shouldn’t be, technically, since I haven’t done anything physically
straining since I was first arrested. But Dr. Sadhwani’s questions whirl in my mind
and combine with the things Thomas had said to me, haunting me until I have to clutch
my head in an attempt to ward off the headache. Somewhere out there, the government
is debating whether or not they should pardon me. I’m shivering a little, even though
I know the room is warm.

Classic signs of an oncoming illness,
I think darkly.
Maybe it’s the plague.
The irony of that sends a hint of sadness—and fear—through me.
But I’m vaccinated.
It’s probably just a cold—after all, Metias had always said I was a little sensitive
to changes in weather.

Metias. Now that I’m alone, I let myself worry. My last answer during the lie detector
test should have thrown a red flag. But it didn’t. Does that mean I
am
still loyal to the Republic, without even being aware of it? Somewhere, deep down,
the machine could sense my doubts about carrying out the assassination.

But if I decide not to play out my role, what will happen to Day? I’ll need a way
to contact him without Razor finding out.
And then what?
Day’s certainly not going to see the Elector the way I see him. And besides, I have
no backup plan.
Think, June.
I have to come up with an alternative that will keep us all alive.

If you want to rebel,
Metias had told me,
rebel from
inside
the system.
I keep dwelling on this memory, although my shivering makes it hard to concentrate.

Suddenly I hear a commotion outside the door. There’s the sound of heels clicking
smartly together, the telltale sign of an official coming to see me. I wait quietly.
The doorknob finally turns. Anden steps in.

“Elector, sir, are you sure you don’t want a few guards with you—”

Anden just shakes his head and waves a hand at the soldiers outside the door. “Please,
don’t trouble yourselves,” he says. “I’d like a private word with Ms. Iparis. It’ll
only take a minute.” His words remind me of the ones I spoke when I’d visited Day
in his cell at Batalla Hall.

The soldier gives Anden a quick salute and closes the door, leaving the two of us
alone. I look up from where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. The shackles that bind
my hands clink in the silence. The Elector isn’t in his usual formal garb; instead
he wears a full-length black coat with a red stripe that runs down the front, and
the rest of his clothes are elegantly simple (black collar shirt, a dark waistcoat
with six shining buttons, black trousers, black pilot boots). His hair is glossy and
neatly combed. A lone gun hangs at his waist, but he wouldn’t be able to draw it fast
enough to shoot me if I decided to attack him. He’s genuinely trying to show his faith
in me.

Razor had told me that if I was to find a moment when I could assassinate Anden on
my own, I should do it. Take the opportunity. But now here he is, unexpectedly vulnerable
before me, and I don’t make a single gesture. Besides, if I try to kill him here,
there’s zero chance I’ll see Day again—or survive.

Anden sits down beside me, careful to leave some distance between us. Suddenly I’m
embarrassed by my appearance—slouched and weary, with undone hair and nightclothes,
seated next to the Republic’s handsome prince. But I still straighten and tilt my
head up as gracefully as I can.
I am June Iparis,
I remind myself. I’m not going to let him see the chaos I’m feeling.

“I wanted to let you know that you were right,” he starts. There’s genuine warmth
in his voice. “Two soldiers in my guard went missing this afternoon. Ran away.”

The two Patriot decoys have escaped, as planned. I sigh and give him a rehearsed look
of relief, just in case Razor is watching. “Where are they now?”

“We’re not sure. Scouts are trying to track them.” Anden rubs his gloved hands together
for a moment. “Commander DeSoto has instated a new rotation of soldiers that will
accompany us.”

Razor.
He is putting his own soldiers in place, gradually moving in for the kill.

“I’d like to thank you for your help, June,” Anden goes on. “I want to apologize for
the lie detector test you had to undergo. I know it must have been unpleasant for
you, but it was necessary. At any rate, I’m grateful for your honest answers. You’ll
stay here with us for a few more days, until we’re sure the danger of the Patriots’
plans is past. We may still have some questions for you. After that, we will figure
out how to integrate you back into the Republic’s ranks.”

“Thank you,” I say, even though the words are completely hollow.

Anden leans in. “I meant what I said at our dinner,” he whispers, his words rushed
and his mouth barely moving. He’s nervous. A sudden paranoia seizes me—I tap a finger
against my lips and give him a pointed look. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t shy away.
He gently touches my chin, then pulls me toward him as if he were going to kiss me.
He stops his lips right beside my own, letting them rest ever so slightly against
the skin of my lower cheek. Tingles run down my spine and along with them, an undercurrent
of guilt.

“So the cams don’t pick it up,” he whispers. This is a better way to talk in private;
if a guard were to poke his head inside the door, it would seem like Anden’s stealing
a kiss instead of whispering with me. A safer rumor to spread. And the Patriots would
just think I’m going along with their plans.

Anden’s breath is warm against my skin. “I need your help,” he murmurs. “If you were
pardoned of all crimes against the Republic and set free, would you be able to contact
Day? Or is your relationship with him over now that you’re not with the Patriots?”

I bite my lip. The way Anden says
relationship
makes it sound like he thinks there was once something between Day and me. Once.
“Why do you want me to contact him?” I ask.

His words have a quiet, commanding urgency that gives me goose bumps. “You and Day
are the most celebrated people in the Republic. If I can form an alliance with you
both, I can win the people. Then instead of quelling rebellions and trying to keep
things from falling apart, I can concentrate on implementing the changes this country
needs.”

I feel light-headed. This is sudden, startling, and for a moment I can’t even think
of a good response. Anden is taking a huge risk talking to me like this. I swallow,
my cheeks still burning from his proximity. I shift a little so I can see his eyes.
“Why should we trust you?” I say, my voice steady. “What makes you think Day wants
to help you?”

Anden’s eyes are clear with purpose. “I’m going to change the Republic, and I’m going
to start by releasing Day’s brother.”

My mouth turns dry. Suddenly I wish we were talking loud enough for Day to hear. “You’re
going to release Eden?”

“He never should have been taken in the first place. I’ll release him along with any
others being used along the warfront.”

“Where is he?” I whisper. “When are you—”

“Eden has been traveling along the warfront for the past few weeks. My father had
taken him, along with a dozen others, as part of a new war initiative. They’re basically
being used as living biological weapons.” Anden’s face darkens. “I’m going to stop
this mad circus. Tomorrow my order will go out—Eden will be taken from the warfront
and cared for in the capital.”

This is new. This changes everything.

I have to find a way to tell Day about Eden’s release, before he and the Patriots
kill the one person with the power to free him. What’s the best way to communicate
with him?
The Patriots must be watching all of my moves from the cams,
I think, letting my mind spin. I’ll need to signal him. Day’s face appears in my
thoughts and I want to run to him. I want so much to tell him this good news.

Is
it good news? My practical side pulls at me, warning me to take this slowly. Anden
might be lying, and this could all be a trap. But if it was just another attempt to
arrest Day, then why wouldn’t he just threaten to kill Eden? That would bring Day
out of hiding. Instead, he’s letting Eden go.

Anden waits patiently through my silence. “I need Day to trust me,” he murmurs.

I put my arms around his neck and move my lips closer to his ear. He smells like sandalwood
and clean wool. “I’ll need to find a way to contact him, and convince him. But if
you release his brother, he
will
trust you,” I whisper back.

“I’m going to win your trust too. I want you to have faith in me. I have faith in
you.
I’ve had faith in you for a very long time.” He’s quiet for a second. His breathing
has quickened, and his eyes change abruptly. Gone is that sense of distant authority,
and in this moment he’s just a young man, a human being, and the electricity between
us is too much. In an instant, he turns his face and his lips meet mine.

I close my eyes. It is so light. Barely there, yet I can’t help but want a little
more. With Day, there’s a fire and a hunger between us, even anger, some deep desperation
and need. With Anden, though, the kiss is all delicacy and refined grace, aristocratic
manners, power, and elegance. Pleasure and shame wash through me. Can Day see this
through the cams? The thought stabs at me.

It lasts for mere seconds, then Anden pulls away. I let out a breath, open my eyes,
and let the rest of the room come back into focus. He’s spent enough time here—any
longer and the guards outside might start to worry. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he
says, bowing his head slightly before standing up and straightening his coat. He’s
pulled back into the shelter of formality, but there’s a slight awkwardness in his
stance, and a faint smile on the edges of his lips. “Get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Once he’s gone and the room has fallen back into a thick silence, I curl up with my
knees at my chin. My lips burn from his touch. I let my mind wrap around what Anden
just said to me, and my fingers run repeatedly over the paper clip ring on my hand.
The Patriots had wanted Day and me to join them in assassinating this young Elector.
By assassinating him, they claimed, we’d be stoking the fires of a revolution that
would free us from the Republic. That we could bring back the glory of the old United
States. But what does that
mean,
really? What will the United States have that Anden can’t give the Republic? Freedom?
Peace? Prosperity? Will the Republic become a country full of beautifully lit skyscrapers
and clean, wealthy sectors? The Patriots had promised Day that they would find his
brother and help us escape to the Colonies. But if Anden can do all of these things
with the right support and the right determination, if we won’t
need
to flee into the Colonies, then
what is this assassination accomplishing
? Anden isn’t remotely like his father. In fact, his first official act as the Elector
is undoing something his father had put in place—he’s going to free Eden, maybe even
stop the plague experiments. If we keep him in power, would he change the Republic
for the better? Wouldn’t he be the catalyst that Metias had wished for in his defiant
journal entries?