Princess of Lies and Legends (The Evolved Book 2)

by Veronica Sommers

  Reya pushes the guard aside. He leans against the wall, his arms limp and his eyes glassy.

  I rise, my heart glowing.

  "Vixen." Vissa nods to me. Her voice is a little louder than normal, maybe because she's wearing earplugs. Safi has a pair in her ears, too. They both tug the earplugs out, leaving them dangling by cords around their necks.

  I'm out of the cell in a flash, wrapping my arms around Vissa's neck, tears threatening to burst from my eyes.

  "All right, Zil, all right." Vissa gently pushes me back. "Here." She holds a pen-shaped instrument on a long strap over my wristband. With a faint beep, the bracelet unlatches. I let it fall to the floor.

  "Take these." Safi passes me a pair of earplugs. "Reya has to sing our way out."

  "Wait! They put my skull-port back in, and I want it out."

  "Can we worry about that later, Zil? It won't be long till someone realizes what's happening here; Reya's effect doesn't last more than ten minutes or so after she leaves a room. Besides, if they take the port out without putting you under, it'll hurt like death."

  "They pried it out in Emsalis, and I lived," I growl. "I want it out now. I don't care how much it hurts. If we leave it in, they can track me, control me."

  Vissa rolls her eyes. "Fine. We'll find a doctor or a nurse. There's a medical lab down this way, I think."

  When we reach the end of the hall, Safi bangs through the medical lab doors, aiming her gun at the two techs inside.

  "One of you get over here and take out my friend's skull-port," she says.

  "What? Are you crazy?" says the female tech, while the man shrinks behind a medicine storage locker. "That's very dangerous without the proper—"

  "Can you do it?" Safi snaps, her eyes narrowed.

  The woman hesitates, then, "Yes."

  "Truth," says Safi. "Good. Get over here, and don't try anything stupid."

  I bend over the metal counter, laying my head down and scraping my hair clear of the port area. They shaved a bit of my hair when they installed the new port, and the bare skin feels weirdly smooth and sensitive.

  "I—I can give you a local pain deadener," says the woman.

  "Will it make me dizzy or sleepy?"

  "It might."

  "Forget it. I need to be alert."

  "I can help," says Reya. "With the pain."

  "Earplugs, everyone," says Safi. She pulls my set off my neck and hands them to the tech. "Put these in."

  The tech swabs around the implant. As she starts to pry at my skull-port, I close my eyes and focus on the smooth, cold metal of the counter under my cheek.

  "This new one hasn't fully set yet," the tech says. "It should come out easily. I'm retracting the nerve cluster now. Disengaging the sensors. Ready?"

  I grip the edge of the counter. "Yes."

  Roaring pain stabs my head, splintering my consciousness into a thousand shards. A vicious pulling sensation—and then Reya begins to sing, and the pain whisks away. Everything disappears, everything I know and love, and there is only that sweet voice, swirling around me, slithering through me, becoming me—or maybe I am melting into it, into her. Faint and delicious, the voice sweeps me away into a dream of me and Reya, Reya and me, floating forever in peace and happiness.

  The song ceases, and the bloodstained skull-port clunks onto the counter beside me.

  I draw in a deep breath, blinking and shivering. As my mind resets itself, Reya gives me a slow, triumphant smile, her short red hair curling around her face and ears like living flame. For a moment the sight of her, the sheer power of her, frightens me.

  Pain thrums through my skull, but it's milder now. Another quick swab, and the tech places a nano-patch over the hole in my head. My memory flashes back to the Fray vehicle in Emsalis, the rough grid pattern of the floor, the vibration of my skull against the metal as I was carried far, far away to the rebel compound. To Rak.

  Rak. "Where is Rak?" The words sound thick and odd after the music of Reya's voice.

  Safi and the others slip out their earplugs, and the tech hands mine back to me. I repeat the question.

  "Rak is hiding out with Alik," says Safi. "Your father's men came for him, but he got away. He came to my place first, and then we went to Alik for help. And of course Alik knew a place where we could hide."

  "So why didn't Rak come with you, to get me out?" I slowly straighten, pressing the nano-patch firmly at the edges to tighten the seal.

  Vissa and Reya exchange glances, and Safi busies herself with the gun, hustling the tech over to the wall with her partner.

  "What's wrong?" I ask. "You tell me right now."

  "In the altercation with your father's men, he was shot," says Vissa.

  The world tilts, tipping me toward a dark abyss. "Shot?"

  "His leg. It's healing, but he can't walk very well right now."

  I grip Vissa's shoulders. "How bad is it?"

  She shakes me off. "Not too bad. Right now have to get out of here."

  The four of us leave the lab and run back down the hall. I don't know how many corridors and elevators lie between us and freedom. Hopefully not too many.

  We pass the common room, where patients and attendants are milling about, looking as if they just woke from a deep sleep. Maybe they did.

  Reya points left, so we turn. At the end of a short hallway is an elevator. The doors open, revealing a short nurse with a basket of towels. Her mouth opens at the sight of us.

  "Not a word," says Safi, lifting the gun.

  We crowd in, and the elevator glides downward, holo-ads cheerfully playing on the walls. The nurse with the basket huddles in the corner, her eyes darting to each of us in turn.

  "Sorry about this," I tell her.

  "You're—you're—"

  "Zilara Remay. Yes."

  "Is it true, what they're saying about you?"

  "I'm not sure what they're saying, but everything I told Berri in my interviews was the truth. The suppressors, the Emsalis problem, all of it."

  "Oh." She pauses. "I just meant, is it true about you linking up with one of the men who captured you, in that country you were visiting?"

  I'm speechless, my head pulsing with pain and anger. She doesn't know. She doesn't know about any of the important things, or even the name of the country where I was held hostage.

  "People are too busy watching the gossip feeds to pay attention to real news," says Vissa, catching my eye. "I was the same way, till you came back."

  The elevator stops on the ground floor. "Do yourself a favor," Safi says, glaring at the nurse. "Learn the names of a few countries besides your own." She spits on the woman's pile of towels and stalks out of the elevator.

  In the lobby of the building, several City Security officers are talking to three white-faced night guards and two desk attendants. One of them raises his voice in a panicked whine. "But you don't understand! There were three girls, and they just walked in, and one of them was singing. I don't know where she—they—went! It's a security breach, I tell you!"

  "And you thought this singing girl was worth our attention?" One of the security officers is frowning deeply, his face reddening in frustration.

  "Wait, that's her! Right there!" The attendant points at Reya.

  Every head in the lobby turns toward us as we walk forward.

  "Earplugs, girls," says Reya sweetly.

  I stuff my earplugs in a second before she starts to sing.

  I can't hear what Reya is singing, if there are words or just her voice; but as she walks ahead of me through the room, shoulders slump, eyes glaze, mouths open, and hands fall limp. The guards, the security officers, and the attendants are paralyzed—enchanted.

  She keeps singing as we pass through the lobby doors. I have a brief moment of panic, wondering how we'll get away fast enough on foot; but the next second a hoverpod swoops down to us. I don't recognize the pod, but when the doors open, Ridley is inside, her hand on the pilot's console.

  One after another we leap into
the hoverpod, collapsing onto the center seat. The doors close, and Ridley guides the pod away from the Institute.

  I pop out the earplugs. "Ridley?"

  She half-turns and smiles. "Good to see you, Zilara."

  "Is this your pod?"

  "We borrowed the pod from a friend of Alik's," Safi says. "It's clean of trackers, and it has a twinning projector, so you can split the image of the pod and throw off pursuit."

  "How did you get in to rescue me?" I ask. "There must have been security measures on the way in—how did you pass through it all? You can't just sing your way past a coded lock or a sensor."

  "Ridley got us the tech we needed," says Vissa. "And with my vision, I could stand far away and still see the codes people were typing in for access. Took about a week for the scouting and planning, or we'd have been here sooner to break you out."

  Her golden-brown eyes meet mine, and her lips tighten. She doesn't have to say it. I know she's sorry for her reaction to the news of me and Rak, and the consort pledge.

  I reach out my hand, and she grips it. "Thank you," I tell her. "I mean it. And Ridley, thank you, too. But what about your job? My father is going to blacklist you with all the top Ceannan families after this."

  She shrugs. "He already fired me, and I'm done working for his kind anyway. Don't worry—a woman with my skills will always be able to find a job. And don't give me too much credit for your breakout. After all, the Institute isn't a prison, and you were in the section for the upscale 'guests,' not on the floors for the deeply disturbed residents. So it wasn't as difficult as you might think."

  "Still, I appreciate it," I say. "How did the Ceannan people react when the Magnate locked me away? Was there outrage?"

  Vissa and Reya share a look.

  "Not as much as you might have hoped," says Reya softly.

  "Your father's publicity team broadcast a compilation of vid clips featuring you at your worst moments," Vissa says. "I think they doctored it up quite a bit. By the end, even I thought you might be crazy. And then Reya set me straight." Vissa pulls out her holoscreen and flicks through her feeds. "Ah, here it is. Want to see?"

  "Do I have a choice?"

  "No." Vissa leans toward me and expands the screen. The vid shows dozens of images of me, random moments when I looked haggard, or angry, or insane—those weird, wrong-moment shots that feedrunners catch but don't usually use. Drone footage of me falling into the pool at Riot House, bits of footage from my wilder days at Uni, moments of me laughing, with the audio obviously tweaked to sound maniacal.

  "That's terrible! And people actually believe this?"

  "A lot of them do," Vissa says. "They think you went crazy in Emsalis, and that nothing you say is trustworthy."

  "But not everyone believes it," Reya says. "A lot of people our age are asking questions about skull-port tech and suppressors. I think you started something there."

  "A cup of rice, once spilled, cannot be easily gathered," says Safi.

  I turn to her. "But they aren't taking the situation in Emsalis seriously. I'm so sorry."

  She snorts. "You're one girl, Princess. It's rank arrogance to think you can fix the problems of generations and entire countries. Some would say you were insane to even try."

  "And what do you say?"

  Her pale green eyes sparkle at me. "I say you're the bravest woman I know."

  28

  "We're heading to the place where Rak is hiding out," Ridley says. "Anyone you want to call on the way?"

  There's one person who might be able to advise me about this whole mess.

  "Councilwoman Ellery," I say.

  Ridley tosses me my com device. "You left this in your hoverpod. I took it after we left you at your father's office, and I brought your luggage too." She nods to a corner of the pod, where my case of clothing sits next to my aeroball gear bag.

  "You're the best, Ridley."

  "I know."

  I'm not sure that Councilwoman Ellery will answer my wave. It's nearly midnight, and I've never called her before. Maybe the novelty of that fact will inspire her to respond.

  I count to ten as the light blinks. And then Councilwoman Ellery's heavy face appears above the com. She's still in full makeup, her hair perfectly coiffed.

  "Miss Remay," she says. "This is quite the surprise. I thought you'd been stuffed in a dusty closet to rot."

  "It's not so easy to keep me in the closet, especially when I have powerful friends."

  Her smile broadens. "Indeed. I'm pleased to see you sane and healthy."

  "Thank you." I draw in a long breath. "I'm sorry to wave you so late, but I need some advice."

  "Of course you do. You've just made a very bold move and dealt with serious consequences. Congratulations, my lovely—you are now a politician."

  "Before we go any further—you knew about the suppressors, didn't you?"

  She winces. "I knew. I voted against the mandate twenty-two years ago, but it made no difference. Since then, I've been under order of silence just like everyone else. I'm afraid I didn't have your courage to speak out."

  "Yes, well—I had hoped more people would step up and demand the truth, but according to my friends, that hasn't happened."

  "People prefer comfort. They like to be cared for, and they don't enjoy the disturbance of their peace," says Ellery. "Ceannans love drama that doesn't directly affect them, but they're reluctant to wade in when the truth could change their lives. Still, questions are being asked. I think in time the verity of your claims will become clear to everyone."

  "Until then, what should I do?"

  The Councilwoman purses her lips. "What was your plan? Surely you had a plan in place before you started with the public dramatics."

  "I planned to go to North Dixan with my consort, Rakhi. I'm taking a position on a college aeroball team and studying political science, while he studies medicine." I hesitate. "But after what my father did, what he said—he's more dangerous than I thought, and he needs to be stopped. I guess what I'm asking is, should I stay and stand up to him?"

  "Do you want my opinion as a citizen, or as a politician?"

  "Politician, I suppose."

  "You've been discredited, Zilara," says the Councilwoman. "There's nothing more you can do right now—unless you want to start a civil war like they have in Emsalis."

  "What? No! All I want is fairness and honesty. I want people like me to have a voice, to know what's being done to them."

  "And you've accomplished that. But if you want true change to occur, you need to go away. Study. Learn. Lead a small group of people, a town, a company. Then come back when you're older, with more experience, and challenge your father. Challenge all of us." She chuckles.

  "That's going to take a long time," I groan.

  "Anything worth doing usually does."

  "You're saying I should go live my life, guilt-free, while Evolved kids like me are being suppressed?"

  "I'm saying that in order to have real weight in this fight, you need time and training. And if you happen to enjoy your life a little along the way, that's not wrong."

  "What if I forget why I started all this? What if I forget my goal and my purpose?"

  "You will. We all do, at one time or another. The important thing, what will set you apart from everyone else, is whether or not you discover it again. The moment you do, I'll be waiting, and so will General Binney. When the time is right, we'll help you get it done."

  "I don't want my father to think I ran away."

  "A tactful retreat is much different than running away," she replies. "Consider it a feint, like in aeroball or in war. A false move to put your enemy off guard, to lull him into believing he has won—when in reality, you fully intend to come back."

  "Thank you," I say. "You've given me a lot to think about."

  When I end the call, Ridley says, "I think the Councilwoman is right."

  "I suppose she is." I sigh, resting my forehead on my palm. "Part of me wants to get away, and another part
of me wants to stay and face my father, show him that he can't control me like he did my mother—like he does everyone here."

  And then, suddenly, I know exactly how to do both. To escape, and to send a message to my father, to all of Ceanna, that I'm not finished here, that I will one day bring a reckoning. "Ridley, can you take us to the Magnate's office complex first?"

  When we pause in front of the complex, I see the enormous statue of my father, two stories high, white stone seamed with silver. The lawn around it glows unnaturally green, thanks to tinted lights. At this hour of the night, the walkways bordering the lawn are empty. When politicians work late, they like to do so in comfortable home offices or fancy parlors, with drinks in their hands—not in boardrooms and council halls.

  My friends wait in the hover-pod while I step down and walk toward the statue. I stare up at it, towering cold and forbidding above me.

  "Goodbye, Father," I say softly.

  Then I set my palms against the base of the statue, and I thrust waves of energy up and up, through its core to its peak. The pain in my head spikes, but it fuels my ferocity and I cry out, sending an avalanche of pent-up power into the rock.

  The statue shudders, heating, cracking, rumbling—and then, with a hissing pop, it turns to ash. Fine molecular sand, sifting down to earth, blowing away on the night breeze.

  Coughing, I brush the bits of statue dust off my hair and shoulders.

  The empty space where the statue stood is strangely satisfying. Maybe this is why my mother would run to smash something of my father's every time they fought. It gave her a temporary sense of victory. Of course, he'd look on coolly and replace whatever she broke the very next day.

  My mother. I'm leaving her alone with him. I never realized all that she went through, everything he did to her. I need to wave her once we reach North Dixan, to tell her that I'll be back for her. If she wants to leave him, I'll find a way to help her do it.

  A smile stretches across my face as I scan the piles of pale stone dust on the grass. It looks like newly fallen snow—or soft white sand.

  "Try replacing that, Dad," I whisper.

  Then I stumble back to the hover-pod. Hands reach for me, drawing me inside—the hands of the women who saved me.