by Anna Jarzab
Her room was in the attic, but it had several windows that let in plenty of light. The place was airy and bright, which, while not up to her usual standards, was a welcome change from the windowless cell they’d been keeping her in before. It was almost peaceful, if she could forget about the armed guards standing on the other side of the door. As soon as she was alone, she swept the room for bugs like Thomas had taught her, but her search turned up nothing; they hadn’t even tried to hide the cameras in the other place. She had to wonder what that meant.
Much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was curious about the state of affairs back in Columbia City. What had the General and the queen done when they discovered her missing? The wedding must have been canceled. Every day she prayed that just because she wouldn’t be marrying the Farnham prince, the treaty and the fragile peace it had brought to the disputed borderlands would remain undisturbed. That was why it was so important to her that her disappearance look like a kidnapping—she needed the UCC to come out of the whole messy affair clean. It was her last gift to her people, perhaps the only one she had ever given them.
She tried not to think about Thomas, except to wonder whether or not he’d gotten her note. He wouldn’t understand, no matter what she said; he was uncommonly steadfast and loyal to a fault, and he would never see why she’d done what she’d done. That was fine; she didn’t need his approval. She just needed to know that she’d done what she could to explain her intentions and make her apologies to her only real friend. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.
Her guards were infuriatingly silent on the subject of what was happening in the world outside her confines, and nobody would tell her when she was going to be allowed to see the Monad. She was starting to wonder if he even existed. It was like they were waiting for something, a perfect moment, but she didn’t know what or when it was coming. Her room at the farmhouse, just like her room at the bunker, was locked from the outside at all times, but at least she could look out the windows. There was a small bookshelf under one of the slanted eaves; she picked out a slim paperback whose spine read Twelfth Night.
“Ugh,” she said aloud. “Shakespeare.” She’d never been much for the Bard, whose work she found difficult and unrewarding. But she opened the book anyway, and started to read; perhaps the new Juliana, the person she was about to become, loved Shakespeare. Maybe it was the next stage in her evolution. People changed, they grew. It was possible she loved Shakespeare and didn’t even know it.
Nineteen
The Day of Prince Callum, like every other day I’d experienced in Aurora so far, was bright and sunny. I woke up at seven thirty, well-rested considering how insane the day before had been, and completely recovered from my allergic reaction. Last night had been a close call; it should have raised everyone’s suspicions, because they knew Juliana wasn’t allergic to chocolate, and yet they accepted Dr. Moss’s justification without question. Maybe Thomas and Gloria were right; I looked exactly like Juliana, and almost any explanation was more reasonable than the assumption that I wasn’t her.
Still, the incident had rattled me. I felt blurry at the edges, as if I was starting to blend in with my surroundings, evolving a Juliana camouflage. It was for the best, I supposed; it would make my job a lot easier. But I didn’t want to morph into somebody else; I liked who I was. And, of course, the only way I could get back to my real life was to pretend I wasn’t me. The irony of the whole thing was sickening, but I had to believe that I was and always would be Sasha Lawson, that nothing could erase that.
Gloria burst in at eight with Louisa, Rochelle, and a breakfast cart, attendant attached, trailing in her wake. Gloria was impeccably dressed as always, but there was an air of harried frenzy surrounding her that I hadn’t experienced before. Seeing Gloria agitated made me instantly alert. I’d forgotten how important this day was to everyone at the Castle.
“Come on, come on, Your Highness, we have a lot to do today,” Gloria said. “Jump in the shower, and don’t take too long!”
It was fruitless arguing with Gloria, so I didn’t bother to try, but being bossed around like this was starting to get on my nerves. How Juliana could stand it was far beyond me. I was glad I wasn’t going to have to deal with it forever.
“Finally,” Gloria breathed when I stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet. I sat down and the attendant rolled the breakfast cart within reach. Louisa ran a comb through my hair, separating it into sections for easy drying and curling. As I ate, Gloria yelled her morning briefing over the sound of the hair dryer, until it became obvious to all parties that something had to come first—the briefing or the drying.
“First up is your visit to the king,” Gloria informed me once my hair was finished. “I knew you wouldn’t want to interrupt your daily visit to your father for anything, even Prince Callum, so I made room for it.”
“Thanks, Gloria,” I said, glancing at Louisa and Rochelle. They hardly spoke, and it was easy to forget they were there. The most dangerous moments were those in which I was in the presence of both people who knew my true identity and people who didn’t. It was one thing for me to be myself, and quite another to be Juliana, but being both at once was proving to be a challenge.
Gloria moved on. “The prince arrives at three o’clock with his Farnham escort. They’ll be taking him through the front gates to the main entrance, after which the escort will leave and the KES agents the General has assigned to the prince will take over his protection. You and Her Majesty will meet him at the grand staircase, you’ll exchange some pleasantries and he will be escorted to his quarters. He’ll have his own security briefing, then dinner. Once that’s over, you’ll have some time alone to get to know each other better.”
“Romantic,” I said sarcastically, dabbing at the corners of my mouth with a napkin. Rochelle snorted. Clearly not everyone was quite so disapproving of Juliana’s antics. My chest tightened at the prospect of having to make conversation with Prince Callum. Get to know him better? I didn’t know him at all, and I had absolutely no idea what I was going to say to him.
“Watch the attitude,” Gloria warned, giving me a stern look. “Okay, Louisa, try not to make her look like a French poodle. Juliana, your outfit is on the bed; finish breakfast before getting dressed. Thomas will walk you to the king’s suite at ten, then you’ll be back here at eleven. You’ll have from eleven to twelve to yourself, then another dress fitting from twelve to one. Hopefully we can squeeze in a quick lunch for you and then you’ll meet Her Majesty in her study to go over last-minute changes to the guest list and finalize the floral arrangements. That should take you all the way up to Prince Callum’s arrival. The day is tightly packed, so no dawdling and absolutely no wandering off.”
“All right, all right,” I said, waving her off with a bored little yawn. “Busy day, packed schedule, I get it.”
Once I got into it, pretending to be Juliana could be fun. I was starting to see what Thomas had meant when he said you just felt it, sometimes, what your analog would do, when you were living their life. It was coming easier now. I wondered if that had anything to do with the visions of Juliana I’d been seeing in my dreams. I’d had another one last night, but, like always, I couldn’t remember much, which made me nuts. If only I could figure out something, remember some pertinent detail about what was happening to her, maybe I could use it as leverage with the General, or at the very least, with Thomas. But there was nothing. Only lightning-quick impressions, small bits of imagery, remained from the dreams. I wasn’t going to stop trying, but the visions were starting to feel useless, and I was getting discouraged.
“Good. Thomas will be here soon. Oh, and Juliana?”
“Yes?” I said.
She pointed at the dresser, where I’d abandoned Juliana’s diamond the night before. “Don’t forget to wear the ring.”
I wasn’t stupid; I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape or avoid Thomas. He was my captor and my protector, and like it or not, I was stuck with him. But I didn’t
have to talk to him. It was one thing for him to pose as Grant to get me to Aurora—sure, it was screwed up and wrong, but at least it had a point. Telling me his parents were dead when they weren’t, and hiding from me the fact that the General was his actual father, alive and well, was more than wrong—it was sick.
It took Thomas a while to notice I was giving him the cold shoulder. In fact, if I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought he wasn’t speaking to me. He was entirely wrapped up in his own thoughts and barely even seemed to notice I was there. We walked the whole way in silence, me fuming, him totally zoned out.
There was no way around it: the king scared me. I hated his suite, with the paraphernalia of illness that crowded his bed and the choking medicinal smell of hospital that filled the room, but it was the king himself that unsettled me most. The nonsense he’d spouted the day before and the aggressive way in which he’d grabbed my wrist had frightened me more than it probably should have. He’s a harmless, bedridden old man, I reminded myself. But that didn’t keep my stomach from sinking when we approached the door to the king’s bedroom.
The king appeared to be asleep when we entered the room; at least, his hand wasn’t kneading the air in its endless pattern. Not knowing what else to do, I started The Odyssey from where I’d left off the day before, while Thomas hovered near the door, still in his own little world. I glanced up every once in a while as I read, my gaze leaping from the king, who remained motionless in slumber, to Thomas, but only when he wasn’t looking at me.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you going to make me guess?”
I didn’t answer him, keeping my eyes trained on the page. He sighed and crossed the room, pulling a chair over from up against the wall and sitting down.
“Come on, Sasha, let’s hear it,” he pressed. “I won’t stop asking until you tell me, so you might as well quit giving me the silent treatment and say what you need to say.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to use my real name,” I pointed out, still refusing to look at him. He put his hand on mine and used it to close the book. My breath caught in my throat. He’d touched me before, out of necessity, mostly, but something about the way he wrapped his fingers around mine felt … intimate. I jerked away, wanting no part of it. I hated him. He was a liar and a coward and … and … he had the most expressive green eyes I’d ever seen. I closed mine to keep from looking into his. What is going on with you? I asked myself savagely. It’s just Thomas, for God’s sake!
“I think it’s safe in here.” Nevertheless, his eyes flickered over to the king and he lowered his voice. “Now, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t. He couldn’t fix the problem, couldn’t un-lie. He couldn’t go back in time and never pretend to be Grant, never bring me here. He couldn’t un-be his father’s son. We were who we were, and we’d done what we’d done, and nothing was ever going to change that or make it better.
“It matters to me,” Thomas insisted. “Look, if you don’t trust me, you won’t listen to me. And if you don’t listen to me, you could get hurt. Remember the Tattered City?”
“How can I trust you when all you do is lie to me?”
My accusation took Thomas aback. “What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you.” I rolled my eyes and groaned. How could he even bring himself to say that to me? I couldn’t believe his nerve. He conceded the point. “Okay, I let you believe I was Grant Davis. But other than that, I haven’t lied to you, not once this whole time. I don’t lie. Not unless I absolutely have to. It’s just not in my nature.”
“A spy who doesn’t lie? Useful.”
“I’m not a spy,” Thomas told me. “I’m a soldier. I’m a bodyguard. I’m an interuniversal transporter. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t care what you are,” I said. “To me, you’re nobody. You don’t even really exist.”
“What did I lie about that’s got you so worked up?”
“You told me your parents were dead,” I spat. “And yet, I found out last night that the General is your dad. You’ve even got a mother on top of that! Alice? Is that her name? Oh, and a brother, too. You’ve just got a whole crap-ton of living relatives, don’t you?”
“Who’d you hear all this from?” I noticed he didn’t deny it.
“Straight from the horse’s mouth,” I said. “In fact, I think he enjoyed it. He knew I didn’t know. He knew you’d lied.”
Thomas shook his head. “My parents are dead. My biological parents. They died when I was five, exactly how I told you before. I didn’t lie. I just … omitted the fact that, a couple years later, the General and his wife adopted me. That brother you mentioned? His name is Lucas. He’s the General and Alice’s real son.”
“Adopted?” I had no idea what I expected Thomas to say in defense of himself, but this definitely wasn’t it.
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and looked over at me tentatively. “Do you want to know how it happened?”
I nodded. I did want to know. Here was my chance to find out something real. His story. How he’d come to be who he was.
“Other than my parents, I didn’t have much family—nobody close, nobody who could take in a five-year-old kid. So I got processed by the government, and was placed in an orphanage in New Jersey Dominion called the Princeton School for Boys. I didn’t think I’d ever get adopted,” he admitted with a small shrug. “Older ones almost never do. So it was kind of a shock that I was—to me, and to everyone else.”
“How did the General even find you? Was he just in the market for a new son?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never asked,” Thomas said. “What? Someone offers you a new home, a family, after three years of being completely alone in the world, you don’t question it.”
“So you were eight?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes trained on the ground. “The General was at the orphanage on behalf of this military school, Blackbriar. The General is an alumnus, and he does voluntary recruitment for their scholarship program. He came on Field Day, where we did all these sports and activities. I wasn’t great at sports, because I was too small—back then,” he added, catching my dubious look. There were a lot of words I might use to describe Thomas, but “small” wasn’t one of them. “But I was a fast runner. The fastest in the whole school. When the General picked me out, I thought I’d be getting a Blackbriar scholarship, but it turned out I was too young to go there. Instead, the General had decided he wanted to adopt me, officially, and I ended up going to Blackbriar anyway, two years later, as his son.”
“Are you close, then? You and the General, I mean?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Thomas told me. “Lucas—my brother—thinks I’m the General’s favorite, and I guess, from all outward appearances, I must be. But I’ve never thought that. He treats me the same way he treats everyone else. It’s not like having a real father. I know what that’s like, and it’s not like that at all.”
I realized I’d been holding my breath and finally let it out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Thomas said. “I didn’t tell you.”
I nodded.
“But you should know,” Thomas continued, shifting his chair so that he was facing me directly. “I’m not going to lie to you. This situation is so weird and I realize that it’s a struggle. Believe me, I’ve done it. Stepping into the life of your analog, even for the right reasons, isn’t easy. It makes you doubt all kinds of things you thought you knew about yourself. What you’re willing to do. What you want. Who you can trust. I don’t want you to feel as lost as I did as Grant. You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you who I really was. I wanted someone to know.” I stared down at my hands in my lap. I couldn’t look into his eyes. I knew what I’d find there, and I couldn’t see it, couldn’t acknowledge it in any way.
“I know who you are,” he told me. “And I wa
nt you to feel like you can trust me, because I know how much that means.” He sat back, his speech finished.
It took me a few moments to figure out what to say. “Can I … do you mind if I have a few minutes alone?” My voice cracked. It felt like I hadn’t spoken in days.
Thomas indicated the king with a slight incline of his head. “He’ll be here.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “That’s okay. He doesn’t talk much.”
Thomas nodded, getting up and putting the chair back where he got it. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he promised.
“I know you will,” I said. “And thanks. For what you said.”
“I meant every word,” he told me.
When Thomas was gone, I went back to reading The Odyssey out loud to the king. I just didn’t know what else to do. I hadn’t wanted him gone so that I could think. Thinking about Thomas was the last thing I wanted to do. I needed something else to focus on, and took comfort in the familiar act of reading. There was something about saying the words aloud that was meditative and soothing. I let the cadence of my own voice, speaking words that were written thousands of years before, wash everything away like a receding tide.
“ ‘But once your crew has rowed you past the Sirens, a choice of routes is yours,’ ” I read. “ ‘I cannot advise you which to take, or lead you through it all—you must decide for yourself—but I can tell you the ways of either course.’ ”
The king muttered something unintelligible, startling me. I looked up at him, but his eyes were still closed. I wasn’t even sure that he’d said anything at all.