by Caroline Wei
“Okay, what is it?”
Oliver frowned, but it was the kind of frown that was contemplative. “Would you like to help me sabotage the Experiment?”
I blinked once, then twice. “You mean …cross the queen?”
“Yes.”
I guessed that this was so unheard of in the culture that I grew up in that I forgot monarchs could challenge other monarchs. I was just another rat in the palace.
Oliver tilted his head, waiting for an answer.
“Of course,” I blurted. It felt good to defend Alle, for once.
“Good.” Oliver nodded briskly, once. “I’m thinking we can sneak into the control room. I can’t really overstay my welcome, since Carlen isn’t here to kick me out. It’s not like Hernandez has the guts to confront me.” His eyes slid over towards me. “Do you know how one goes about sneaking into the control room?”
I bit my lip. “Only fingerprints from authorized personnel can open the door.”
“Easy,” Oliver said with conviction. “We’ll just—”
“No, but after that, there’s face ID and voice recognition and a password. If you fail any of them, the system is programmed to give you a near-lethal electric shock and notify the palace guards, plus Adella Hernandez.”
Oliver blew air out from his lips. “Oh.”
I imagined that a prince didn’t have a whole lot of experience trying to wiggle around rules. But then I remembered that this was Alle’s prince, who was so used to escaping restrictions that I’d watched a whole love story unravel before me. He was everything I admired—brave, true, and just a little bit impulsive.
“But there is a way.”
Oliver looked up with interest, his hair falling into his eyes. I took in a shaky breath and nodded once.
18
OLIVER
Yale reminded me of before.
She seemed vaguely familiar, with her shock of fiery hair and her round face, the golden glitter under her eyes and on her cheeks. She was like a piano, I thought. One of those old, silent ones in grand ballrooms, with dust on the ebony skin, crinkly, aged music sitting on the stand. She wouldn’t sing until someone decided to sit down and actually play the keys. And maybe then, she’d need a little bit of tuning.
I used to love music.
Yale was out of breath by the time we’d reached her destination. There we stood, on the third floor stairs, the balcony overlooking the second floor.
“If you’ll give me a hand,” Yale said, hitching up her skirts a little bit. Decisively, she hoisted herself onto the balcony railing and stood up, wobbling.
“Whoa,” I said, holding out an arm to brace her. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“More than sure. Alle and I used to use these to—” she stopped and swallowed. “We used to use them to spy on the palace.”
‘Them’ turned out to be a vent in the ceiling. Yale promptly removed the cover and tried to lift herself up, grunting.
After a full thirty seconds, I said, “I can give you a lift. Step on my hands.”
“It’s fine, I can do this,” she puffed. The vent was pretty high up. I didn’t think Yale, with her shorter stature, could make it, unless she had an impressive six-pack.
“Nrrrrrggggghhhhhhhh.”
“Somebody’s going to come,” I said dryly.
“Shut up.” Her face went red for a moment, like she wasn’t used to speaking back to royalty.
“You shut up,” I said, smirking, and her face relaxed.
Cords in Yale’s arms stood out, green under her skin, as she strained. I constantly looked over the balcony and down the halls to check we weren’t going to get caught. Yale had assured me that everyone was either on break or cleaning the fourth floor bathrooms, but I had my reservations.
“You know if you fall, you could get seriously hurt on the second floor?” I asked, peering over the railing at the drop.
“You’re making me lose my focus,” Yale retorted.
“Okay, Yale, you’re—”
“Aha!”
I looked up and saw she was balanced precariously at the opening of the vent. “See? You doubted me but I—”
I saw it before it happened. Yale’s foot swept out from underneath her, and she tipped back toward the opening, her body following suit, slowly, like a scene in a movie. Without thinking, I reached out my arms to prevent her from getting into the accident I had described only seconds ago.
Yale fell hard, her head knocking into my shoulder, her dress fanned out. My hands were gripping her thighs, both of us nearly toppling over the railing.
There was one small issue.
My hands were on her thighs.
Under her skirt.
Accidentally.
Yale immediately flushed the same color as her hair, and I awkwardly pulled my hands away. She stumbled away from me and smoothed out her uniform.
Both of us said nothing for a very, very long time.
Then, “Sorry.” From Yale.
“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” I swallowed. “Um, you want to try again? I’ll give you a boost.” I tried to crack a smile. “And don’t turn me down this time around.”
Yale nodded mutely, and she stepped off from my clasped hands, pulling herself up into the vent. I followed suit, but it was easier for me, since I was much taller.
“Come with me,” Yale whispered, and she started crawling. As we went, bits and pieces of the palace appeared through the openings of the vent. There were a couple guards near one room, dressed in brilliant white, their cheekbones partially obscured by gleaming helmets equipped with mirrored visors. As I watched, one of them touched his ear and said something into an unseen microphone. Next, there was a rusted clock with Roman numerals hanging on a wall; on another, there was a holographic model of the lost world, different countries labeled Russia and India and Afghanistan pulsing sapphire. In another hallway, a group of gardeners on a break walked together, talking quietly about the different options for lunch. Across from them was a framed, life-size photograph of Alle. I sucked in a breath. Even confined within a camera shutter, her cinnamon hair curling gently on her shoulder, with those eyes that could make me do anything, she made my heart wince. And she spoke to me.
“I hear that song every night in my dreams,” Alle told me once. We were in the Niveus palace’s music room, on the occasion that my parents visited. They were with Carlen upstairs, far away, talking about adult things that I hadn’t needed to care about yet.
I had played Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major on the grand piano, and she had closed her eyes the entire time, looking like something out of a fairytale.
“It’s so romantic,” she said. “And kind of sad. Who do you think Chopin was?”
“I don’t know. An old composer from before the World War.”
“Do you think he was in love with someone?” Alle rested her head on her forearms, looking at me in a way that made my blood pound.
“For sure,” I whispered. I loved playing for her. Everyday, as much as I could, or over the crackling audio sound of Alle’s smuggled touch screen when I was in Caesitas. There was something about music that I loved—its predictability, its rise and fall, the way it ended like a story, the way I could control the way each note sang. And when it was combined with Alle—her unflinching gracefulness, innocence, and love for everything—it was heaven. I was the puzzle that she completed.
“Do you know who’s in the lead?” I asked Yale as we went. I heard her sigh, the sound echoing off the metal.
“Alle is, thankfully. Even though she never had to prove herself. Victoria is second.” Yale shuddered. “Malchin is third.”
I remembered Malchin. His family and mine would meet sometimes, and we’d be shut in a room to play together. We never really did get along—maybe a little in the beginning, when all that was required of three-year-old boys to be friends was to share toys. After that, our interests diverged. I preferred to run off to look at violins or ex
periment with harp-playing, while he liked to roam the library, thumbing through old books and writing his poetry. That kid loved poetry more than he loved eating.
But as we got older, it became clear we both started to like the same person. At international diplomacy councils, we’d take turns sneaking peeks at Princess Alle Frost of Niveus—Malchin scribbling in his notebook and me dreaming of new melodies. She was so oblivious, it was too sweet to bear.
Malchin didn’t get as much of a chance to hang out with Alle as I did—after all, Carlen’s first priority was to get Caesitas on her side, so I spent endless amounts of time in Niveus. Rubrum was the most influential of all the countries, but Niveus was the wealthiest, so I supposed they weren’t at the top of Carlen’s list. But I always wondered what would have happened if Malchin had the opportunity to make a move on Alle—and that had ironically been answered by the Amnesia Experiment. Apparently they had great chemistry.
Another reason to destroy the whole project.
“Here we are,” Yale breathed.
Smack dab below us was the center of the Experiment control room. Dozens of officials with badges on their suits wove between each other, holding metal containers of coffee or touch screens buzzing with notifications. I spotted gigantic, projected screens on the walls, some of them displaying revolving profiles of participants in the Cube. I saw Victoria’s pointed nose and thin lips, with the red number two rotating next to her head, and a list of statistics, such as the number of times she had directly assisted someone and the number of times she’d been injured, underneath.
“All I have to do is lift the vent and drop down,” Yale said. “But there’s too many people.”
“They can’t punish a prince,” I replied.
“Do I look like a prince to you?”
I blushed. “Sorry. I, um…” I forgot would have been too stupid to even think about saying out loud. “We’ll have to wait until nightfall, then?”
“The control room is being operated in 24/7,” Yale whispered, “because the Experiment is running 24/7.” She sighed. “There will always be people in here.”
I held back a curse. “Then what do we do?”
“Pretend it was an accident,” Yale said, so soft I could barely hear her.
“What?”
“We should pretend that we fell from the floor above. It’ll look like it anyway—people won’t be paying enough attention. Then we’ll stumble around, because we’re injured, right? And…” Yale smiled and pointed at a gleaming white podium with five buttons—three green and two red—each representing a Trial. Right underneath the neat little row was a giant silver button that screamed TERMINATE. “We’ll press that and end it all. Then Alle will have to come back.”
I considered. “Well, I can’t think of anything else.” The very prospect of freeing Alle excited me, just to have her back in my arms.
“Okay, ready?”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. Yale took a deep breath and slowly shifted the vent’s cover away from the opening. Small bits of murmuring came up towards us, all regarding the Amnesia Complex. Just as we were about to jump through, a TV screen across from the podium with the Trial buttons lit up.
“Explain to me what is happening,” came that permafrost voice that both Yale and I were so accustomed to.
“Your Majesty.” All at once, everyone in the room swept into a bow or curtsy.
“Rise,” Carlen said tersely. Her face and shoulders filled the screen, her eyes furious. “Why does the princess keep getting memories?”
When the room stayed largely silent, the queen roared, “DON’T THINK I HAVEN’T BEEN PAYING ATTENTION! How could we let something like this slip?”
“We didn’t think this would be a factor in the Experiment, ma’am,” someone closer to the screen said. Hernandez.
Carlen seemed to be struggling to compose herself. “Well, do you at least know how it could possibly be happening? Their personal memories are supposed to have been completely wiped.”
“We’re thinking that when subjects hear certain trigger words, see certain images, or hear certain sounds, it releases memories pertaining to those things. It doesn’t happen every time, but once in a while. It’s been most prevalent with Princess Alle.”
“Whatever is happening, fix it!” Carlen was enraged.
“We can’t,” Hernandez replied. The room was filled with tense air. “We can’t stop it from happening. Whatever needs to be fixed should have been perfected before we started the Experiment, Your Majesty.”
“Are you saying this is my fault, Dr. Hernandez?”
Hernandez shook her head violently. “No, of course not.”
“But that is what you’re saying, isn’t it? I was the one in charge of swiping memories, after all. I suppose the potestrine synced to me just wasn’t strong enough, because I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Please, my lady, you know that’s not what I meant—”
“That’s quite enough. I have to go now, but I will remember this when I return. Do you understand me?” Carlen didn’t wait for a response. The screen went dead.
Yale and I stayed as still as we possibly could.
After a moment of slightly horrified silence, Hernandez clapped her hands, flustered and annoyed. “What are you all staring at? Back to work! This Experiment won’t run itself!”
“Oliver, now,” Yale said, and banged her fist into the metal, making a harsh splintering sound while launching herself onto the floor. She landed on her feet but immediately crumpled theatrically on the ground. I fell on top of her, and she started yelling.
“Oh no,” she screamed, and I was shocked into silence at how good of an actress she was. She moaned, clutching her kneecap. “What was that?”
Four or five people came running immediately, including Hernandez.
“Prince Oliver?” she asked incredulously.
I made a show of wincing as I came up, rubbing my leg. “You ought to have this palace’s architecture checked out, Dr. Hernandez.”
She gaped at me, then turned to those around her. “Go find a medic.”
Yale got up, then swooned and drifted dramatically to the right, stumbling onto the guard standing next to the Trial podium. His jaw tautened as he shoved her away.
Hernandez’s eyes narrowed. “Maid Heinz, what are you doing?” She snapped her fingers at the guard, who reached out to hold Yale’s forearms. “Keep an eye on her.”
“I’m so dizzy,” Yale moaned, one hand to her forehead. Her other hand grasped at the podium, her fingers brushing the TERMINATE button.
Hernandez walked towards her and yanked her away from the guard, and I heard the slap before I saw it. Yale gasped and lowered her reddening face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Hernandez hissed, but I was already over there. Seeing Yale slapped filled me with unexplainable anger.
“If I see you lay another hand on any of Niveus’ palace staff, I will personally see that all trade between Caesitas and this wretched excuse of a nation be ceased immediately,” I snarled, pushing Hernandez away from Yale. “There are rules to treating another human, and that’s not it.”
Hernandez looked furious. “Your Highness, I am not at your beck and call. And you may think otherwise, but Niveus will not shrivel up and die if Caesitas is not there to serve her.”
Steam filled my insides, boiling hot and ready to explode out of my mouth. “You—”
“Prince Oliver.” I turned to see the Niveus guard who had been in charge of the Trial podium. He was touching his earpiece, eyes lowered. “Your mother just phoned. Something has happened with King Wilbur.”
19
MALCHIN
I woke up before anyone else, in the untouched cold that comes with morning. All around me, people slumbered, but I was only interested in one.
Alle was dozing on Clarice’s shoulder, her hair strewn across her face. Her lips parted with every breath, soft as a secret. The thought of there being someone else in A
lle’s life—another boy—made me want to throw something. The look in her eyes when she talked about him spoke volumes of an eventful past, even if she couldn’t remember all of it.
I ripped my eyes away from Alle’s sleeping form and focused on Victoria. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, as if troubled, even in her dreams. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but Alle’s accusation of her being the mystery queen from a world outside the Cube—it had been so full of conviction.
Victoria’s eyes suddenly fluttered open, piercing blue. She pinched her mouth when she saw me examining her.
“You’re up,” she said without ceremony, and stood. We’d managed to get a fire going in the center of the room, and Victoria walked over to add more fuel.
I strode over to her. “Well, are you or aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Victoria sighed, flicking some of her long silver hair behind one shoulder. “I used to be young once, you know.”
I tried to keep my patience. “How is this relevant?”
“I used to be young. I could have had a family, maybe a child, maybe more than one child. Maybe I had a husband, an old college that I loved, a garden that I tended. Or maybe I didn’t.” Victoria turned her hard gaze on me. “The issue is, Malchin, how would I know whether I was a queen or not? How would I know whether I created the Cube? I can’t even defend myself against what Alle is saying because I don’t know if it’s true.”
This made sense. But… “How do we know that you don’t have all your memories?” Better question, how did we know anyone really had amnesia? What if everyone was all pretending? Only I knew for certain that I couldn’t remember anything personal to myself.
“You don’t,” Victoria said simply. “You have no way to be able to tell. And so lies Alle’s problem. The only thing she’s got on her side is the people’s love.” She bent to kick a piece of red bramble into the fire. “You and I both know that everyone here trusts and believes in Alle. But Alle would break that trust if she were to condemn me without proper evidence. And she has none.” Something sad came into Victoria’s eyes. “As I have none.”