“It’s too bad we don’t have any music,” Carlos remarked.
Kerry hadn’t yet learned what he did. But maybe it was something useful. She smiled at him, created a pair of hand cymbals, and clinked them together. A soft chime rang out.
Meredith began a complicated dance, her feet kicking up dust. More people joined, dancing in a group. Carlos snapped his fingers, and Kerry tapped out a syncopated beat.
Kerry couldn’t talk to anyone while they danced. But providing music for it would make people see her as harmless, helpful, and fun, so she kept the chimes going. Then Henry leaped on to the rickety table. It collapsed, sending apples bounding.
“You idiot, Henry!”
“Shush!”
The dancing stopped as everyone looked nervously at the door. But no one barged in.
“At least we already ate the tacos.” Becky began picking up the apples.
“It’s too hot, anyway. We can dance at Luc’s.” Yolanda Riley wiped her forehead on her sleeve. “I love your power, Kerry. It’s the coolest I’ve ever heard of.”
“Are you Changed?” Kerry asked.
Yolanda’s smile vanished. She brought up her hand. A wind whipped through the barn, bathing Kerry’s face.
“That’s a great power,” Kerry said sincerely.
“Yeah, I like it, too.” Yolanda sighed. “But when I Changed, my parents kicked me out of the house. None of my blood relatives talk to me any more.”
Kerry had seen how prejudiced Norms could be here, but that shocked her. “That’s horrible.”
Yolanda gave Kerry a wistful smile. “I bet when you Changed, people congratulated you.”
“They did, and that’s how it should be,” Kerry replied. “I was born Changed, but my power was weak until I got older. When I was five, I created a tiny sword and cut down one of my mother’s rose bushes. I thought she’d be angry, but she hugged me instead. My father put the best rose in a golden vase, and said, ‘Someday you’ll be the pride of Gold Point.’ Yolanda, your parents should have told you that you’d be the pride of Las Anclas.”
Yolanda’s chin came up. “My new parents do.”
Alfonso Medina, a boy with gecko-like fingers and toes, appeared at Yolanda’s shoulder. “Does everyone in Gold Point feel that way?”
If anyone didn’t, they didn’t dare say so.
“Yes,” said Kerry firmly. If Alfonso wanted to flee Las Anclas, she’d be happy to help him. He could probably carry her over the wall. “In fact, in Gold Point, people compete for the chance to Change.”
“The chance to Change?” echoed Mia. “The Change is inherited. You can’t just decide that you want it.”
“If you inherited the potential, my mother has the power to activate it.” Kerry spoke carefully, aware of her enthralled audience. “We have a monthly festival called Opportunity Day, when we offer citizens that chance. Though there’s no guarantee what you’ll get. One guy couldn’t even figure out what his power was, until he passed a pond on the way back home. It turned out that he had the ability to summon turtles. ”
Everybody laughed, and Kerry laughed with them. But she couldn’t help thinking of Luis, and of the girl Sean had picked, who died right there on the dais. Even some powers that seemed good at first hadn’t turned out to be so wonderful in the end. Deirdre had been ecstatic when she became a stormbringer, but when she gained the ability to control the weather, she’d lost the ability to control her emotions. Six months later, her power killed her.
“I’d try it,” Sujata said. “I’d love to have a power.”
Kerry brought out the Encouragement Tone. “I’m sure you’d get a wonderful power, Sujata. Much better than turtles! Which one would you like?”
As Kerry had hoped, everyone immediately began talking about the powers they’d like to have. She was uneasily aware that she’d also left out the fact that nowadays, there were hardly any volunteers. Santiago had been the only one in that entire year. Again, she saw Sean’s horror as his friend fell dead on the dais. What had her name been? Guilt pulsed through Kerry when she couldn’t remember.
It was a relief when the door opened. The slanting late-afternoon sunlight outlined Father’s distinctive profile. Kerry gasped. Then the barn door closed, and she recognized her half-brother, Paco.
Here was her ally. Preston had obviously been keeping him from her. But her brother had finally managed to slip his leash.
“Paco,” she called out. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
Everybody had gone silent. Kerry turned to the bug-eyed crowd. “Do you mind? I’d like to have a little private time with my brother.”
Paco stood absolutely still, watching as first Yuki, and then everyone else walked to the other side of the barn. Mia backed up too, but not very far.
As Kerry passed her, Mia said, “I won’t eavesdrop.” Her round face was solemn behind those winking glasses.
Kerry forced a smile. “I know. You’re just doing your job.”
She walked up to Paco. He took a step back, staring unnervingly at her face. Kerry stayed where she was, trying not to crowd him. She didn’t want to stare back, but she couldn’t help it. Out of all her half-siblings, Paco looked the most like Father. And the most like her.
Kerry dropped her voice as low as she could. “You know we can’t talk here.”
She waited for a response, but he just stood there. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Though he had Father’s face, his expressions were totally different. But she knew what she had to offer. As Min Soo had said, what boy wouldn’t want to wake up and find himself a crown prince?
When the bounty hunter returned from Gold Point, Preston would kill her. She had to seize this chance.
“Meet me at Mia’s cottage after the party,” she whispered. “Mia won’t interfere. Then we can talk.”
She searched his face on each word, her nerves chilling when his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted with hatred. Of course. He thought she had stolen his rightful place.
She leaned closer. “I promise, I won’t try to usurp your position. I know you’re the crown prince.”
“Shut up!” Paco yelled. He flung himself away from her, his back banging into the door. “I am not a traitor! Mia’s not a traitor! And you—you’re just like your father!”
The barn door slammed behind him. Yuki ran after Paco, and the door slammed again.
Kerry turned around to a sea of open mouths. Mia looked like she’d been punched in the gut. Kerry raised her hands so fast the chain jerked tight, locking her wrists together.
Brisa’s voice cut through the ringing silence, “What did you say to him?”
Kerry hastily recalled her words. Whatever she told them now had to match with whatever Paco said later. Letting her surprise and dismay show in her voice, she said, “He must have totally misunderstood me. I asked him if we could talk privately, but I only wanted to get to know my brother without so many people around. I said Mia wouldn’t mind if he came to her cottage to talk to me.” She turned to Mia. “You wouldn’t, right?”
Looking bewildered, Mia shook her head.
Kerry said quickly, “Oh, I realize now what he must have thought. I said that I’d heard so much about Paco, the crown prince. My father always wished he could meet his son. I mean, if things were different.” Her voice wobbled. She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. “I know it’s never going to happen. I wish I could take it all back.”
For once, Becky’s soft voice was easily heard. “Let’s all pretend this entire party never happened.”
“Excellent idea.” Felicité Wolfe stepped forward with the ease of one used to giving orders. “Let’s get things cleaned up, shall we?”
Chapter Thirty-Two. Las Anclas.
Yuki
Yuki swam empty-handed out of the sea cave, and glanced back at the crack in the cliffs that led to it. With Ross gone, he’d limited himself to exploration and mapping, not daring to try to move anything. But the ocean creatures weren�
�t so cautious. Fish swam in and out, and barnacles and sea anemones had begun to attach themselves to the walls and wrecked furniture.
Paco tapped Yuki’s shoulder and made a throat-cutting sign: he was running out of air. Yuki gestured to him to surface, and started to follow.
A sea magpie swam out of the cave, with something shiny grasped in its tentacles. The eyes on the tips of its stalks swiveled as it spotted Yuki, and it darted toward the open sea.
Yuki arrowed after it, intent on its prize. The sea magpie dove deeper. Yuki followed, slipping past a strand of grasping kelp, down to the base of the cliff. Here the light was dim and blue-green, and the weight of the water pressed on his eardrums. Tightness banded his chest, and his pulse galloped loud in his ears.
But he was closing in on the creature. He grabbed a trailing tentacle. It slipped out of his hand, but the startled sea magpie dropped the shiny thing. Both it and Yuki dove for it. Yuki was faster. He grabbed the chunk of metal, then swam for the surface, his lungs burning.
Beneath the cliffs, he took a long breath of air and pushed up his goggles. Treading water, he held out his find. “Look!”
Paco barely gave it a glance. “A metal . . . lump.”
“It’s an artifact,” Yuki said. “See? It’s got plastic attached to it.”
The boys swam back to the beach. Yuki sat on the sand and examined his find, a corroded metal thing with a yellow plastic switch. He flipped the switch, but nothing happened. Then he tugged on a metal tab. A yellow tape with writing on it spooled out.
Excited, Yuki held it up to read. Then he saw what it was, and laughed.
Paco sat back, looking disappointed. “A tape measure.”
“An ancient artifact tape measure. Think about it, Paco. Hundreds of years ago, some person used this to build their home. And we’re holding it now.”
The idea of all those years awed Yuki, but Paco only shrugged. Yuki couldn’t remember him smiling once since he’d found out who his father was— certainly not since his confrontation with Kerry.
Yuki fished for something that might catch his enthusiasm. “I wonder if I could train a sea magpie to help me prospect?”
That caught Paco’s attention, but not in a good way. “Train a sea magpie? They’re fish! You can’t train a fish!”
Yuki decided not to point out that technically, they were mollusks. “You never know until you try.”
Paco stood up. “I have to get back. See you.”
Yuki scrambled to his feet. “Ranger training isn’t for hours. We only did one dive.”
“What’s the point?” Paco nudged the ancient tape measure with his toe. “How’s that going to defend us against Voske?”
Yuki felt as disoriented as when he’d gotten trapped in the sea cave, drowning in ink-black waters. Usually Paco was the one person in town who would choose flowers over dumplings, as they said on the Taka: someone who looked beyond the practical and everyday. Paco’s contemptuous gaze at the artifact made Yuki feel betrayed.
“There’s more to life than fighting,” Yuki retorted. “How’s music going to defend us?”
Paco straightened up. “It isn’t. That’s why I quit the Old Town Band.”
“What?” Yuki exclaimed.
Paco shrugged, as if what he’d said had no significance. As if he hadn’t practiced for years to get good enough to be invited into that band. “I have more important things to do.”
Yuki was too surprised to think before he spoke. “What could be more important to you than music?”
“What do you think?” Paco shouted. “Getting stronger. Protecting this town. Voske’s coming back. We all know it. And I mean to be the one to take him down.”
He stalked off.
Yuki watched him, hurt and frustrated. Unable to think of anything else to do, he dove into the ocean, swimming down.
Usually, underwater, he felt free—free of gravity, free of worries. His entire being was focused on perceiving his surroundings and where he was in space. He had no attention to spare for anything else.
But not even diving could distract him now. Paco was right that the town was in danger, but was giving up everything else that he loved really going to help? At best, it was driving a wedge between them, as Paco systematically rejected everything that had attracted Yuki to him to begin with. Or was Yuki being selfish and shallow, to expect Paco to remain unchanged after all he’d been through?
Yuki dove deeper, trying to force himself to concentrate, but his thoughts pursued him. He’d abandoned Ross. Paco had changed until Yuki barely recognized him. And Yuki was still trapped in Las Anclas, since there was no way he’d leave while the town was in danger. Even if he was willing to go, Paco wouldn’t come with him. After everything Yuki had done, he’d gotten absolutely nowhere.
His lungs screamed for oxygen, forcing him to surface. Maybe Paco was right, in a way. Wasn’t the tape measure—wasn’t everything in the sea cave—wasn’t prospecting itself—nothing more than a distraction from what Yuki had lost? He’d been born to rule a city that no longer existed. Anything else he did with his life would always, inevitably, be nothing more than a consolation prize.
Yuki floated beneath the cliffs, feeling as lost as he had when he’d first come to Las Anclas, watching the empty horizon line for the rescue that never came.
Chapter Thirty-Three. Gold Point.
Ross
Ross paced around the palace garden, with two guards following close on his heels. Santiago was still at home with his eyes swollen shut, no doubt bored out of his mind.
Voske had looked puzzled when they’d emerged from the crystal forest so soon after they’d entered. But when they’d come close enough for him to see their swollen faces, he’d ordered everyone to keep their distance. Ross had scrubbed off in the stream while Santiago reported to the king. When Santiago was done, Voske ordered them all back to Gold Point.
“Santiago knows not to touch anything without your permission now,” Voske said to Ross as they mounted up, then added, “As soon as the swelling goes down, you can return.”
Ross prowled the garden, trying to come up with an escape plan. He’d hoped being outside would make him feel less trapped, but it didn’t. There were so many electric lights in Gold Point, shining from windows and atop the poles that lined the streets, that the night sky glowed an eerie purple-gray. He couldn’t see a single star.
He was so used to navigating by the stars that the lack of them made him feel disoriented, almost dizzy. The sky seemed low and looming, as if he could destabilize it with a touch, and send it toppling down . . .
Ross yanked his gaze downward, his heart pounding. He couldn’t start getting afraid of the sky. He’d lose his mind. He lifted his head deliberately, scanning the jagged black line of the mountains against that dim sky. High mountains. Plenty of air. Lights winked at the distant dam that supplied all that electricity.
He walked on, the guards’ footsteps a steady beat behind him, until he came to Luis’s guest house. The windows were dark. Ross hoped that meant he’d learned to control his powers and has been returned to his garrison.
But the front door stood wide open. The moonlight from the window outlined a silhouette sitting alone at a table, like a scene from one of Bankar’s ghost stories.
“Luis?” Ross asked.
The silhouette jerked upright. “Ross?”
Even at his lowest, Ross had never in his life felt as utterly miserable as Luis sounded.
“I’m sorry, Luis.” He’d already ruined Luis’s life. He didn’t need to pester him as well.
Ross backed away.
“Wait. You can come in. Just don’t get too close.” To Ross’s guards, Luis said, “I just want to talk.”
The guards saluted, then took up positions, one outside each door. Ross came in, and Luis closed the door behind him.
Ross said, “I guess the experiments aren’t working?”
“I stopped,” Luis said.
Ross grimaced, trying not t
o imagine what had happened. But the memories of five crystal trees gave him a vivid picture of Voske’s smiling face presiding as Luis touched prisoners and burned them to the bone.
“That is, the king let me stop while he was gone. I’m sure he’ll have more for me to do now that he’s back. But they’re not experiments any more. It’s obvious that I’ll never be able to control my power. If it wasn’t for Sophie—” Luis looked around furtively.
Ross knew Luis was about to say something fake-cheerful, rather than whatever honest thing he’d been about to disclose. He couldn’t stand hearing one more sentence spoken for the benefit of Voske’s eavesdropping. Besides, Ross owed him.
He touched his finger to his lips. Luis glanced curiously at him, but stayed silent. Ross pulled down the shades. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see shapes, he returned to his seat.
Ross lowered his voice. “The king’s eavesdropping thing doesn’t work inside a dark room.”
Luis’s breath hitched. “Are you sure? How do you know?”
Ross hesitated. “I can’t tell you exactly. But if I could . . . Well, I wouldn’t still be in the palace. You’d have seen me in the hell cells when Voske sent you to ‘experiment’ on prisoners.”
Even in the dim light, Ross saw Luis flinch.
Luis spoke softly. “The king doesn’t allow anyone to escape from Gold Point. He specifically told me that he considers suicide to be a form of escape. If I kill myself, he’ll execute Sophie. I want to die, but I can’t.”
Ross could imagine how terrible it must be to be unable to touch anyone without hurting them, but he couldn’t fathom that depth of despair. He’d risked his life plenty of times, but always with the hope that he’d survive and succeed. He couldn’t imagine deciding that he’d prefer death.
He had to convince Luis that there was some other way. “What sort of experiments have you tried? Real experiments, I mean.”
“The king wants me to be able to kill with a single touch. But I’ve been trying to make myself not hurt anyone—to make it so I only burn people when I’m trying to. But it happens no matter how hard I try.”
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