“This and the cure,” Persis said, but relented, though she was sure Andrine would feel differently if she knew how time sensitive their rescues had become. For aristos, they could afford to wait—but regs were in serious danger from the moment they were arrested by the Galateans to the moment the League came to their aid.
But for now, she’d stand back and let Isla have her moment. Her best friend was standing on the dais above the court, her hair winged out in massive petals meant to invoke the royal orchid and her dress swirling about constantly thanks to the nanobots in the hem meant to make her skirt move like she stood in a breeze.
The visitors stood in an arc behind her. Aside from the four Persis knew, the ship brought with it a couple of natural regs older than Persis’s parents named Admiral and Mrs. Innovation, as well as half a dozen crew members with equally silly names. Though Isla’s courtiers had tried to dress the rest of the Argos crew before their introduction, Persis felt a little pleased that none were quite as successful in their mission to give the visitors more suitable Albian dress as she’d been.
In another life, Persis would have counted that a triumph and spent the rest of the evening listening raptly to their stories of the sea and their far-off home. She would have danced the night away with whatever boy asked nicely enough, gossiped with her friends, then sailed home with her parents—all equally exhausted and exhilarated by the party.
Instead, she waited impatiently for Isla to finish with the formal introductions, cast worried glances back at her parents on the terrace, kept an eye out for Vania Aldred, and tried to plot the Wild Poppy’s next move.
The next move was Justen. It had to be. He had asked too many questions about the Poppy yesterday to be merely an interested bystander. And given what she knew about his history with the revolution, she could not afford to let him suspect how close he really was to the spy. It had been hard enough to act flattered and flirty during the trip to court on the boat, and—perhaps for the benefit of her parents—Justen had been doing exactly that. Gone was the glum, frustrated scientist she’d been dealing with ever since her last trip to Halahou. Justen had been as cheerful as a sea mink, displaying charm she hadn’t seen since the night he’d first had dinner with her parents, and he hadn’t mentioned Vania or the Wild Poppy even once.
Persis was suspicious, to say the least. She was no longer the trusting girl who’d taken him to the star cove for swimming and kissing. Whenever Justen acted lighthearted, he was hiding something.
After Isla introduced the visitors, and they repeated the story of their home island and the mission that had brought them to New Pacifica, the party started in earnest. Naturally, the visitors were mobbed by guests who wanted more information. Invitations to the luau had gone out to aristos and regs alike, and Isla stood by and watched with satisfaction at the way her subjects were interacting.
Persis joined her. “A successful party, Your Highness.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “You never do use my title without a laugh in your voice. Even in your flutters, I can hear it.”
“That’s your interpretation,” Persis replied. “I have nothing to do with the tone of my voice in your head. And, for what it’s worth, your flutters always sound bossy to me.”
“Oh no, that I intend,” Isla replied drily. She frowned. “Speaking of bossy, here comes Shift.”
The councilman was stuffed into a long, glittering frock coat loudly encrusted all over with hibiscus made from rubies. Persis longed to give the man a few fashion pointers. “Lovely party, Princess,” he said. “You always can be counted on for an event like this.”
“Thank you, sir.” Isla nodded her head.
“Pity it’s so crowded,” he said airily, “but I guess that’s what comes of inviting regs to court.”
“Seeing as the visitors are almost exclusively regs themselves, I could hardly avoid it,” Isla replied. Her dark eyes burned in her face, but her expression remained serene. Persis admired her friend’s restraint.
Tero appeared, a tray with two flutes of kiwine in his hands. “Some refreshments, Isla?”
Shift scowled at him. “Don’t interrupt your betters, boy.” He swiped a glass off the tray as the three teenagers stood there in shock. “A good server will wait for a break in conversation.”
“I’m not a—” Tero went silent as Shift drained his glass and turned away.
“As I was saying, these regulars are completely forgetting their place . . .” he trailed off. “I feel . . . odd.”
“It’s the app,” said Tero with a roll of his eyes. “As I said, I’m not a waiter. I’m a gengineer and you just drank my latest surprise for the princess.”
Isla looked at her own glass of kiwine. “What is it?”
“If you had taken it?” Tero shrugged. “Supposed to be a lie-detection app. But you already have that voice-modulation and heat-monitoring app I gave you last month. Without those installed, I’m not precisely sure how his will run.”
Persis bit back a smile. Tero didn’t look the least bit contrite, and who could blame him?
“You drugged me?” Shift looked as green as kiwine.
“Technically, you drugged yourself. I never offered you a drink . . . sir.” He peered at the aristo’s dilated eyes. “I think you should sit down.”
Isla was openly grinning as she sipped from the other glass of kiwine. “Oh, Tero. I take back every mean thing I said about that time you messed up the genetemps. This is too, too entertaining.”
“This is outrageous,” Shift slurred. “Dealing with a child and her slum friends . . .”
“Interesting.” Tero’s tone was one of a scientist midobservation. He and Justen had more in common than Persis would have thought. He took Shift gently by the arm and led him to a seat, and the girls clustered around.
“We aren’t going to make the same mistake with the boy as we did with you,” Shift was saying, to Persis’s shock and Isla’s open delight. “Without your fool father around, he won’t be exposed to as many ridiculous ideas about reg equality.”
“‘Fool father,’” Isla repeated ecstatically. “Please tell me someone’s recording this!”
“All scientific observations,” Tero said. His oblet was in his palm, glowing red. “Royal College of Gengineers standard policy, Your Highness.”
“Oh, Tero, I could kiss you.” She looked at Persis. “And note that he says my title properly.”
“Maybe because you kiss him,” Persis replied. Shift was sweating profusely, his lips quivering and popping. “What’s happening to him?”
“If I had to guess,” said Tero, “it’s that the app is working on him like a truth serum. Which is a bit like a lie detector but . . . backward?” He cocked his head.
Well, wasn’t that handy. She knew a few people she’d like to try it on. And certainly easier than neuroeels.
“Best thing that ever happened was that accident,” Shift was saying, his face all red as he glared at the princess. “It’s just too bad you weren’t on the boat that day.”
Persis hadn’t realized her jaw could drop so far.
“I think that’s all we’re going to need,” Isla said. “Any more insults and I’ll demand more than his resignation. I’ll need his head, too.” But beneath her haughty face, Persis could tell the comment had hit more than Isla’s political pride. She still missed her parents and brother immensely.
“Sir,” said Tero, and there was the mocking note that was missing every time he addressed Isla as Your Highness, “I’m afraid you may be suffering from a faulty palmport application. I think it’s best we find you a medic.” That, too, was Royal College of Gengineers procedure. Tero had just taken his sweet time getting to it. A flutter spun from his hand, no doubt calling for a medic to take charge of the councilman.
“You,” Shift growled as best he could. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Grasping, uppity little reg. You won’t sleep your way onto the throne, I can promise you that.”
Tero
straightened, then looked down at the aristo darkly. “I think the poor man has suffered enough,” he said, and opened his left palm again.
Isla put her hand in his, covering the port before the knockout drug could be released. “Don’t,” she said softly. “I’d like the soon-to-be ex-Councilman Shift to be awake to see me dance with my boyfriend.”
Tero looked at Isla. Isla looked at Tero, a tiny smile on her face.
“You want to dance with me?” he whispered.
“Desperately,” she whispered back, before looping her arm in his and walking out into the crowd.
Persis watched them go, unable to contain her smile. At least one romance on this island would end happily. “Convey my regrets to your nephew, Lord Shift,” she said as the court medic arrived.
Twenty-eight
FOR A GOOD FIFTEEN minutes after the visitors had been introduced, Justen saw no one he knew. The crowd of people seeking to get a glimpse of the visitors had kept him separated from them, and Persis and Isla were nowhere to be found. Then, when he finally did catch a glimpse of the princess, dancing with Tero Finch like it was the most natural thing in the world, he didn’t want to interrupt. Thankfully, he was soon joined by Kai, Elliot, Andromeda, and Ro, who had found respite when the entire court had been distracted by the sight of the princess regent embracing a lowly gengineer.
Ah, Albion. Not as equal as they liked to imagine. But then again, if Isla and Tero were an official item, maybe they were headed places.
The visitors looked understandably overwhelmed. Though Justen was growing used to the typhoon of clothes, flowers, perfumes, and flutters at court, he knew the visitors, with their technologically backward origins, still had a long way to go.
“It’s all I can do to keep watch over Tomorrow,” Andromeda said, hitching up the train of her dress. “You’d think, with everything to look at here, they wouldn’t be so fascinated by one girl.”
“Oh, they aren’t fascinated by one girl,” said Kai, laughing. “You’re just as captivating.”
She stuck her tongue out at her fellow captain. “And you’re lying low?”
“So far,” he replied with a grin, but Justen could see how tightly he held Elliot’s hand.
“I can’t wear things like this. I’m too much of a Luddite,” Elliot said now, dipping her head.
“A Luddite lord,” Kai corrected, “and therefore, the only visiting dignitary on the Argos. Remember that.” Elliot nodded but didn’t lift her head. Sometime, Justen was going to have to get the entire rundown on the political system of their homeland. If Elliot was an aristo, she certainly didn’t act it. “Also,” Kai added, “you look lovely.”
She lifted her chin to look at Kai now, and he leaned in, kissing her mouth softly enough not to mar her makeup.
Justen looked away. He’d never thought the foreign aristo—or Luddite lord, as she called herself—was a beautiful girl, but tonight, everything seemed different. Maybe it was because she was wearing Persis’s clothes. Maybe it was the way she and Kai looked at each other. It reminded him of the looks he’d seen Persis’s parents giving each other, the love Persis had claimed in the star cove was an impossible standard to meet.
At the time, Justen had agreed. Who even wanted a love like that? Wouldn’t it distract from everything else you wanted to do with your life? But looking at Kai and Elliot, Justen wondered if, instead, love was what made it possible. Torin and Heloise had defied the customs of their nation and helped bring about great social change in Albion. Kai and Elliot had sailed to a whole new world. He didn’t know much about the intimate aspects of his grandparents’ relationship, but he did know that Darwin Helo had worked tirelessly to help his wife bring the cure to all the people of New Pacifica. If Justen ever found someone like that, would he change his mind?
Of course, that couldn’t happen, not while he was playing games with Persis. Persis, who’d looked so gorgeous tonight he’d almost forgotten the danger hanging over his head. Dreams of grand love and world-changing partnerships aside, it would be nice to get in one dance with his fake girlfriend before the night was over. After all, she’d put so much effort into their matching costumes.
Tomorrow took off through the crowd toward the water organ, and Andromeda followed, still scowling. The rest of them watched the party for a while, Justen keeping his eye out for Persis, Isla, or indeed, anyone who might be able to connect him to the Wild Poppy, and Kai and Elliot looking far more content to stand at the sidelines than brave the crush in the center of the court. The water organ cycled through several songs and servants lit bonfires around the dance floor for fire dancing, but he couldn’t make out anyone he knew. Andromeda and Tomorrow never returned, and Elliot was starting to look overwhelmed again. Justen snagged a few glasses of kiwine from a passing waiter and offered it to the visitors. “This might help.”
Elliot made a face at the pale green liquid, then took a sip and smiled, relieved. “It’s wine.”
“Kiwine.”
“Kiwi . . . wine?” She laughed. “You people have the strangest foods. The strangest everything. I thought the Cloud Fleet clothes were crazy, but this is”—she tugged at her skirt—“this is like something out of an ancient book. Marie Antoinette, maybe?”
“I was always partial to the French Revolution.” Vania swooped in on them, swiping Justen’s glass of wine right out of his hand. “They certainly knew how to deal with their aristos. Good evening, everyone. How do you like my outfit, Justen? Does it meet with your aristocratic fashion taste?”
His eyes dropped from her sly, calculating smile to her clothing. Vania still wore revolutionary black, but tonight she was dressed in a slinky, glittery gown that wouldn’t be out of place on any Albian aristo. Crisscrossed straps webbed up the bodice and down the sleeves, and there was a black cormorant-feathered cape tossed jauntily across her shoulders. The feathers shimmered with iridescence, and Justen realized how much he must have learned from his week with Albion’s most fashionable aristo. Vania had chosen a feathered outfit specifically to ruffle aristo feathers.
“Are you trying to cause an eruption?” he asked her, eyebrows raised. Even if Isla hadn’t chosen that fashion style this particular evening, feathered capes were usually reserved for royalty, in ancient tradition.
“Yes,” Vania replied. “I am a revolutionary, unlike some people I know.” She looked at the visitors. “Can I borrow him for just a moment?”
As soon as they were alone—or as alone as they could be in the crowd—Vania turned to him and took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology.”
“You owe me my sister,” he hissed at her.
“Remy is fine,” Vania said with a shrug. “You honestly think I’d do something to her? Come on, Justen. That’s what I wanted to apologize about. I was so angry at you, at the way you’d abandoned us, that I lashed out. I’m sorry.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. This was the Vania he knew. And if Remy was safe, it was all that mattered. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Not as glad as I’ll be when you come back to Galatea with me tonight.”
He shook his head. “I can’t go back, Vania. Not ever.”
Her lips formed a scary little line. “Why, because of Persis? Justen, the clothes are nice and all, but let’s be serious. You have work to do.”
“I’ll do it here.”
“Oh, no you won’t,” she said. “That Reduced girl is going to Galatea, and she’s not coming back. You think I’d miss an opportunity like that? I saw her name all over your notes the other night. Any work you want to do with her—and I know you well enough to tell you’re just itching to start your little experiments—you can do in Galatea or not at all.”
“Please,” Justen scoffed. “Do you honestly think that the Albians are going to let you leave here with any of the visitors? They’ve learned their lesson after yesterday.”
Now it was Vania’s turn to laugh. “Please,” she mocked. “They’re already gone.”
Justen’s fac
e drained of blood.
“Andromeda Phoenix knows aristo tricks. She couldn’t talk Kai or his aristo sweetheart into coming along, but we don’t need them anyway. The important one is the Reduced girl, and it was ever so easy to convince Captain Phoenix that these shiny, sparkly aristos do not have Tomorrow’s best interests at heart. She didn’t want that controlling princess or her stupid sidekick trying to stop us either.” Vania gave him a simpering, closed-lip smile. “We’re of such similar minds, Andromeda Phoenix and I. They’re halfway there already, and I only stayed behind to give you one last chance to come along.”
He stared at her in shock. “Vania, don’t you think Andromeda’s also smart enough to see through your ruse?”
“What ruse?” she looked mystified and a little hurt. “It’s only Albians who think things are so very bad in our country, Justen. Well, Albians and you. True Galateans are much happier now.”
“I know a lot of Galateans who would claim otherwise,” he grumbled. “And Andromeda won’t be happy at all when she hears about your plans for her friend.”
“Why not?” Vania shrugged off his concerns. “We’re not going to hurt the girl. It’s not like we need to drink her blood, right? A few genetests. Besides, at least there she’ll have friends of her own kind.”
“The victims of the drug are not Reduced,” he growled.
“Well, you’d know best. Please come,” Vania said, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t want to be enemies with you anymore. I love you so much, Justen. You’re my best friend. Please come back. We can smooth over everything with my father and the populace. I don’t blame you for getting sidetracked here. Aristos can be . . . bewildering. And I know that Father wasn’t letting you work on the projects you really wanted to. But we can convince him together. That Reduced girl will change everything—for DAR and . . . well, for the revolution, too.”
“How so?”
Vania gave him a pitying smile. “I know how much guilt you’ve been feeling over the pinks, Justen. And, believe me, I feel the same. It’s just not right for the aristos. And it’s like you said. Seeing Tomorrow made me realize it—how perverted their form of Reduction is. It’s not real Reduction at all, is it?”
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