The Legend Trilogy Collection (41 page)

“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?

There’s a bigger problem I can’t wrap my head around. Razor
must
know, on some level, that Anden isn’t a dictator like his father was. After all, Razor’s high enough of a rank to hear any rumors of Anden’s rebellious nature. He’d told Day and me that Congress disliked Anden . . . but he never told us
why
they were clashing.