Shatter City

by Scott Westerfeld

  I manage not to flinch. My father’s rooms are full of sensors, ways of telling if guests are nervous or upset.

  “I’m up to something? Enlighten me.”

  “You told your friends you’re moving to Victoria. Did you think we weren’t listening?”

  I shrug off my relief. “It’s the best use of Col.”

  “You can’t have it.” My father is always blunt in argument, to knock people off their guard. But tonight I am steadfast and prepared.

  “Neither can you.”

  He turns from the fire, looking at me for the first time. “Why not?”

  “As long as we hold it by force, the city’s worthless.” I sit down in the chair across from him, making us equals. “We have to exercise control by other means. That’s the whole point of this marriage.”

  “I don’t care about Victoria. Only the ruins mattered.”

  The ruins, of course, are how this all started. Col’s family controlled an ancient Rusty city full of metal. My father offered to help them secure it from the rebels, for a cut. In the end, he took everything—their ruins, their home city, the life of Col’s mother, Aribella Palafox, and thousands of others.

  “If you don’t care about Victoria,” I say, “then give it to me and Col.”

  My father shakes his head. “That city will always have a stain on it. I don’t want people looking at you and remembering those missiles.”

  For a moment, it’s almost like he’s taking responsibility for turning the world against us. But the bomb collar around my neck reminds me otherwise.

  “This isn’t about my reputation, Daddy. What are you really up to?”

  Firelight gleams against his bared teeth. “I’ve found a better home for you and Col—the city of Paz.”

  “Paz?” I shake my head in disbelief.

  It’s a city with no spy dust, where everyone indulges in the wild freedoms of the mind-rain. Everyone has their own feed, and they keep themselves happy by touching a button on their wrist. It’s everything my father hates.

  I’ve always wanted to go there.

  “The Pazx have been helping that little runt Teo Palafox,” he says. “And your sister’s last feed rant was recorded on a city street there. It was obvious where she was!”

  I frown, wondering how Rafi could’ve made such a simple mistake.

  “You’re still worried about Frey?” I ask.

  “Of course I am. She’s the only person who’s ever come close to hurting me since Seanan was taken.”

  That freezes me for a moment. It’s the first time I’ve heard anyone but Rafi say our older brother’s name. He was kidnapped before we were born, but Seanan is all around us, in everything my father does. My very existence is a testament to him.

  “Yes,” I manage. “Frey is dangerous.”

  “She should be—I made her that way. The Palafoxes are deadweight, but if ever she comes at us alone …” He turns away again, his face going pale.

  A question rises up in me.

  “Daddy. If you’re so scared of Frey, why did you make an enemy of her?”

  “Because she wore that red jacket.” He looks up. “That was your idea, testing her like that. Seeing if she’d fallen in love with Col. Have you forgotten?”

  I have to look away.

  When I was in Victoria, my sister asked if the rumors about me and Col were true. She said to wear red if I was falling for him, white if it was just gossip.

  I wore red, and my father destroyed House Palafox that very night.

  But that test of my loyalty was Rafi’s idea? She must not have realized …

  “Every day Frey is out there weakens us,” he goes on.

  “You want me to look for her in Paz?”

  “I want you to destroy her.” My father smiles. “Then you can have the city. A wedding present.”

  I have to hold myself steady as the oldest, strongest part of me takes over—the need to protect my sister. The bomb collar around my neck is all that stops me from killing him now.

  His forces are hunting her, of course, but to ask me …

  “This plan won’t work, Daddy,” I say in a calm, cold voice. “You can’t take over another city.”

  “We have to destroy everyone who helps your sister. They’re all our enemies.”

  I clench my fists, letting my rage flow into one of Rafi’s tantrums. “You’re worried about enemies? We’ll have a hundred more cities against us if you go to war again! I’m marrying this boy to help your reputation, and you’re going to wreck it all, just to hurt Frey? Why are you so brain-missing?”

  My father’s face shows nothing but amusement.

  “I won’t be invading Paz.”

  “You think I’m going to do this for you?”

  “Never you, my dear.” He stretches his hands toward the fire and cracks his knuckles. The little pops sound like the wood stirring as it burns. “Have you ever wondered why I went to all that trouble for the Palafoxes’ ruins? Did you really think I’d set the whole world against us for some metal?”

  I shake my head. “You did it to show the world how dangerous you are. That you’d risk your own daughter to win.”

  “That was just a bonus.” The leather of his chair creaks as he leans back. “Let me tell you some ancient history, dearest. The Palafoxes’ ruined city was once the site of a research center, a bunker deep in the ground where the Rusties designed weapons. Devices that were never used, as powerful as forces of nature.”

  I stare at him.

  When I was a littlie, my military history tutors never tired of talking about the Rusties. They lived three centuries ago and almost destroyed the world with their endless wars. They could set the air on fire, make their own diseases, obliterate whole cities with a single bomb.

  I speak very clearly. “After what we did to Victoria, the other first families won’t allow it. If you hit Paz with a city-killer, they’ll burn Shreve to the ground.”

  “They won’t know it was us,” he says. “They won’t know it was anyone at all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going to break Paz, leaving no evidence of how it was done. And then, my dearest, you will take their city from them so gently, they’ll hardy know it’s yours. Your sister will have one less place to hide.”

  My fists tighten again, fingernails in my flesh. There’s no choice but to scream at him until he understands.

  But as I open my mouth, Dona’s voice interrupts us over the comms.

  “Sir, the dust has crashed.”

  “Again?” My father stands, swearing. “Get some drones out over the city, right away. Rafia, go to your room.”

  “Daddy, this argument isn’t over. Your plan is—”

  “Go to your room,” he says.

  My first instinct is to keep arguing, but then it falls into place in my head.

  The dust has crashed. My sister is in danger. And the rebels are coming tomorrow.

  There’s something I need to do tonight.

  I storm out of my father’s study, knowing exactly where to go.

  The cleaning staff is out in the halls this late, but they scatter at my approach. In a long coat and pajamas, muttering under my breath, I must look sense-missing.

  Since I was a littlie I’ve had to control my reactions, watch my every word. But Rafi got to show her anger. Throwing tantrums was one thing I always envied her.

  Spilling over with emotion feels glorious, but also like I’m unraveling inside.

  Col’s attack on Shreve was my idea, and it was a disaster. What was left of the Victorian army was destroyed, Col and I were captured, hundreds lost their lives. Only one good thing came out of it: my father learning that he isn’t invulnerable, that he might lose everything if he goes too far.

  But now he’s forgotten again.

  Does he really think that if a mysterious attack strikes happy, freedom-loving Paz, the world won’t guess who was behind it?

  He’s going to plunge the world
into a war like the Rusties used to have. City-killers and synthetic plagues. Weather patterns lethally disrupted. Whole nations wiped away.

  And all because he thinks Frey is there. He’s that afraid of me.

  He should be.

  I head down through the heart of the tower, remembering the night of the attack. I fought my way up these stairs with rebel commandoes and Victorian techs. Ready to rescue my sister and reveal our truth to the world. Ready to make things right again.

  But we lost.

  I scream once in the stairwell, letting the echoes wrap themselves around me. It doesn’t help.

  Rage doesn’t fix anything. It only feeds the beast inside me.

  I push open a door and come to a halt, checking my comms again. Security is still yelling about the dust being down.

  I’m in my father’s trophy room. I should have come here weeks ago, but it still sends panic creeping down my spine.

  The walls are covered with paintings of his defeated enemies. Former business partners, leaders of Shreve, enemy commanders. Some of them are nobodies now, some are in exile. Most simply vanished.

  This is the room where I last saw my sister, as the attack on Shreve was failing. We were all about to escape, but then we heard that Col had been captured. When the rest of them ran, I stayed and put on Rafi’s dress …

  And her bomb collar.

  The key to that collar is hidden here. If the rebels are really coming tomorrow, I need it in my hands.

  The dust is down, but there must be cams in here. So I walk aimlessly among the paintings, like a daughter calming down after a fight with her father. Staring up at the faces, contemplating his victories.

  When I reach the painting of Col’s mother, I pause.

  Aribella Palafox looks down at me, so regal and certain of herself. She appears invincible, but she and her mother were killed in the first minutes of the war. Col and I watched the missiles hit from the outskirts of Victoria.

  I hold her gaze, freezing in place. I’ve tested this in other rooms, waiting for the motion sensors to turn the light off, and it always works.

  Counting silently, I feel my muscles start to burn. Like when Naya, my fighting master, used to make me hold a fencing pose for ten minutes straight.

  The thought of Naya makes me queasy. She was the closest thing to a friend I had besides my sister. But on the night of our attack, she was the last person standing between me and Rafi.

  And she wouldn’t get out of the way.

  I hear the buzz of that pulse knife in my ears. She barely put up a fight.

  After long minutes of silence, the motion detectors decide no one’s here and turn off the lights. There are no windows in this room of murdered enemies, so the darkness is absolute.

  Barely breathing, I move slowly, below the detectors’ perception. Reaching behind the painting of Col’s mother, I search for the handset I hid a month ago.

  My fingers push into emptiness.

  I shut my eyes against the darkness, edging a little farther.

  Where is it?

  The lights flick on.

  I jerk my hand back, open my eyes to gaze at the painting, heart pounding. I must have moved too much.

  Do I dare try again?

  “Looking for this?” asks a familiar voice.

  I turn, keeping my expression under control.

  Dona Oliver holds the handset with the codes to my collar. My mind spins for a lie that has any chance of working.

  All I’ve got is what Rafi would say: “That’s mine.”

  Dona smiles. “I’m certain of that now.”

  “What are you doing with it?”

  “Repair workers found it here, after the attack.” She thumbs the handset on. “The encryption was impressive. Took us weeks to crack.”

  Not letting myself panic, I offer Dona a piece of the truth.

  “The rebels gave that to me before they escaped. It unlocks this stupid collar.”

  “That was obvious. We also know it’s already been used once.”

  I give her a shrug. “They showed me how it worked. They wanted me to run off with them, but this is my home. So I decided to stay and help Daddy rebuild.”

  “We’re grateful for that. You’ve helped a great deal.” Dona looks at the handset. “That’s why I haven’t told your father about this.”

  A trickle of relief starts inside me. She still thinks I’m Rafi, and that I’m on my father’s side. But how did she know I’d be down here tonight?

  Then it comes to me.

  “You crashed the dust. You wanted to catch me here.”

  “I wanted to test you,” Dona says. “And to provide a gentle reminder for tomorrow’s event—I’m always watching. If you want me to keep your secrets, you need to keep playing the good daughter.”

  Her smug expression makes my muscles tighten again.

  “That’s why you haven’t told him about the key? So you can blackmail me?”

  She shakes her head. “The question is, why haven’t you told him? He’d be pleased that you put that collar back on willingly. The first daughter wanting to help her father, to make up for being a basket case during the war. But you also wanted a way out, in case he didn’t forgive you for that speech. And you were being such a good little Rafia, I tried to believe you … but you were being too good.”

  My body is flexing for a fight. I have to stay calm.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since the attack, you’ve arrived at every one of your classes on time.” Dona’s eyes are steady and piercing. “You let the randoms choose your outfits, like Publicity has always wanted. You study for interviews, hit every talking point.”

  “I’ve always been spectacular at interviews.”

  “Yes, but Rafia was good in spite of herself. She always pushed back, just to prove she mattered.” Dona steps a little closer. “You, Frey, are trying to be useful.”

  The sound of my own name rings in my ears. The world starts to tip beneath my feet.

  “What did you just call me?” I demand.

  “The saddest part is that your father hasn’t recognized you. I suppose he never thought of you as real. And why would he ever suspect a switch? Because why would Frey put her sister’s collar on?”

  I stare at her. She already knows—she told me this morning.

  “You’re really in love with him, aren’t you?” she asks softly.

  My heart tears in my chest. I am seen.

  I’ll never get Col out of here. I’ll never strike my father down.

  But I can’t give up.

  “Love?” I say, letting Rafi’s sarcasm flood me. “Don’t be so dramatic, Dona. It’s what you said before—everything went wrong after Frey left. And when Col showed up, he was just a way to fix Daddy’s mistakes. Yes, I’ve started to like him. But he’s just a boy!”

  She stands there, unmoved. “I know it’s you, Frey.”

  “Then why haven’t you locked me up?”

  “Because if it wasn’t for you, your father’s regime would have fallen already.”

  The floor shifts again. Gravity is breaking.

  “What?”

  “The war made him look weak,” Dona says. “The guerrilla attacks, the boycott, Shreve itself invaded. Then you and Rafia made that speech, turning him into a monster.” She shakes her head. “We’ve studied the metrics—the whole city was ready to rise up. By the time the dust was back in the air, the schools were shut, the workers striking, and the police were going to stand by and let it all happen. Even the army would’ve turned against him soon enough.”

  My heart slows. “So what happened?”

  “You did. After everything he’d done to you and your sister, you stood by him. Going on the feeds, assuring them that it was all okay. At that crucial moment, you made them doubt what they’d seen with their own eyes.”

  “But that’s not what …” My voice breaks. The deal I made to save Col’s life.

  I thought the revolution had fizzled on
its own.

  Because that’s what my father told me.

  “It didn’t make sense, you switching sides again.” Dona smiles again, this time sadly. “Until I saw the way you look at Col and realized that you were Frey, here to save your sad little first love. The real Rafia would never have made a mistake like that.”

  I try to swallow, but I can’t.

  I’m to blame for keeping my father in power.

  “You almost won.” Dona leans closer, like I’m an insect she’s studying. “But you threw it away for a boy.”

  I know a hundred ways to kill her. Lunge forward, drive my hand into her throat. A kick to the temple. A strike to the eyes to blind her and then—

  She lifts up a small remote. “Stay calm, Frey. I need you to keep your head.”

  A warning sizzles through the collar. Like a slap of heat through my whole nervous system.

  It’s all I can do to stay on my feet.

  “Everything’s going to be better from now on,” Dona says in a soothing voice. “This is what Shreve has always needed—a Rafia who’ll do what she’s told. I should have put a collar on that girl when she was five years old.”

  I gather myself. “My sister would rather die. So would I.”

  “Oh, Frey, I know you’re not afraid of death. We made you that way.” Dona stares lovingly at the remote. “But you’re not the only one wearing a collar, are you?”

  For a moment, I can’t breathe. She means Col.

  This is the woman who I thought would help me take control of Shreve after I killed my father. Who was always a curb on his impulses.

  What if she’s worse than him?

  “Repeat after me, my shiny new Rafia: ‘I will be the perfect daughter.’”

  “You won’t kill Col,” I say. “If he dies, the world will blame my father. It’ll all start to fall apart again.”

  “Not all of these buttons kill, my dear. Some do small, annoying things, like an itch that never stops. Some do incurable, dreadful things.”

  I can’t hide the shudder that goes through me.

  “So say it just once, in your sister’s voice. ‘I will be the perfect daughter.’”

  “Say it yourself. You need me to help control my father.”

  “All I need is this.” She lifts up the remote, one finger lightly on a button. “I can set Col Palafox’s nerves on fire, so they can’t ever be turned off. So promise me. Now.”