Luminary: Book Two In the Anomaly Trilogy

by Krista McGee

  “Thank you.” I smile. “I feel most welcome.”

  “And you like it here?” Again, there is that strange look.

  “Very much.”

  Alex sighs and places his palm against my cheek. Its warmth radiates through my whole body. “I’m glad you are here too. You are amazing.”

  I do not know how to respond to this. And I realize we have done nothing but talk about me. I want to learn more about Athens, more about Alex, but he tells me we must go. The king is having a dinner party tonight, and I am invited. It is a special occasion, though Alex won’t tell me what, exactly. He wants me to be surprised.

  We weave through the streets in silence. Alex is moving faster than normal. He seems disturbed, though I don’t know why.

  When I return to my room, a beautiful dress is laid out on my sleeping platform. It is longer than the one I am wearing. It is a rich green color, with long sleeves and a full skirt.

  A woman comes in to fix my hair. Her utensils are very hot, cylindrical, and they transform my hair into curls that hang down on my shoulders and bounce when I walk. I look in the mirror, and I can hardly believe I am looking at myself. The woman applied colors to my cheeks and lips, a pencil to my eyelids. I look like pictures of the ancients I saw on my learning pad so long ago.

  “This perfume has been made especially for you.” The woman sprays my face with the strong-smelling substance, and I cough in an attempt to dispel it from my mouth. It smells familiar, though. This has been sprayed in my room perhaps, or worn by someone near me. It cannot have been made especially for me. But I will not argue.

  Then I am walking down into the main hall. It has been transformed. It is lit with candles, tables cover the floor, women in beautiful gowns linger by the tables with men who are equally elegant.

  “You look beautiful.” Alex is at the bottom of the stairs. I did not even notice him move to meet me. He is dressed like all the other men—black pants, white shirt, black jacket. He, however, has nothing around his neck. His hair is combed back and held with a tie. I like it better when his hair isn’t combed down.

  I step closer to him and am overwhelmed with the thought of how handsome he is. I feel a little guilty for thinking that somehow. My head feels foggy, perhaps from the crowd or the perfume or the exhaustion of playing instruments all afternoon.

  “My father would like you to sit at the table with us.” Alex places my hand on his arm, and we walk toward the table on the raised platform at the front of the room. Helen is there, looking sad. She speaks to me, but she does not look at me.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Her voice is deeper than the voices of most girls I know, but it’s pleasant and smooth. “Lovely people, lovely food, lovely occasion.”

  I want to ask what the occasion is, and why she is so morose about it. I want to whisper to her that Peter loves her and he is fine. I want to see her smile, to do something to help her recover from her depression. I try to begin a conversation with Helen, but I am stopped by the king clinking a fork against his glass. The people are quickly quiet, all eyes on the king who is standing.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to this very special evening.” Though his words are formal and his tone is kind, his eyes seem firm and somewhat predatory. It is a bit unnerving. “I am pleased to announce tonight the engagement of my son, Alex.”

  I try not to gasp as I recall the word engagement. Alex has been with me so much the last week and I’m surprised he has not told me about this. John spoke of his engagement to Amy, how they planned what they called a wedding, and how exciting it all was.

  “I have chosen a wife for my son whom I feel confident will be an asset to his future role as king.”

  All eyes are on us, our table, sharing smiles and nods. I look around. Where is the fiancée? Perhaps it is their custom to have the bride-to-be enter after the announcement is made.

  “Thalli, please stand.” The king motions me up, but I cannot move. Surely he does not mean—Alex stands and pulls me up beside him.

  “Citizens of Athens. Meet your future queen.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  People are clapping and Alex is hugging me and the king is laughing genially. I am frozen. The fog that my mind was in has lifted, and I am suddenly, painfully aware that this cannot be. I will not embarrass the king or Alex by refusing at this dinner. Planned for me. And Alex. And our engagement.

  How did this happen? Why would such an announcement be made without even consulting me? That is State-like behavior. Not the actions of a place that allows for freedom and emotion. Surely there has been a mistake. Or perhaps engagement means something different here than what John spoke of.

  I release a breath I did not realize I had been holding. Of course that’s what it is. I will ask Alex afterward how they define it. We will laugh over my misunderstanding.

  We sit and begin our meal. Music is playing. “I thought you said there were no instruments here,” I say to Alex as a delicious-smelling liquid is placed in front of us. Alex sips it with a spoon, so I do the same.

  Alex looks at me, his brows coming together. “I didn’t think that would be the first question you asked me.”

  “I’m saving the others for when we are not surrounded by dozens of people.” I smile. “The music?”

  “Right.” He points to a box above our heads. “It is a recording, from before. We have some specialists who restored all the recordings the people of Athens had. We play them only on special occasions. Like this. Do you like it?”

  There are several instruments playing at once. I love the sound. “It is beautiful.”

  The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. I cannot focus, cannot even think of the questions I want to ask. Alex is kind and attentive and very handsome. I would not mind if the Athenian definition of engagement is the same as the other one I have heard. Although I cannot seem to remember where I heard that other one. Nothing seems to be real except Alex and the king and this food and the party.

  The king stands again, after we have eaten a food made from apples and sugar. My stomach is too full to hold any more food, so I hope he isn’t announcing that more is on its way.

  “Thank you all for coming.” He motions to the doors, which are being opened by the men who work here. “We will invite you all back for the wedding.”

  The people clap and walk out. They do not talk as they exit. They simply leave, filing out one at a time, very orderly.

  Wedding . . . I know the word wedding, and I know the word engagement, though I still don’t recall how I know them. When the king made the announcement, he said I was their future queen. Engagement. Wedding. Queen. And I am struck with an uncomfortable reality.

  The woman who fixed my hair walks by, and I smell “my” perfume again. I keep my mouth closed but breathe it in. It is a pleasant scent. I feel myself relaxing, perhaps because the people are gone and it is quieter. I look around the table. Alex and I are the only ones left. I barely recall seeing the others leave. This food is making me tired, I suppose. They eat so much more than I am used to eating.

  “How are you feeling?” Alex looks at me, and I am struck with how very blue his eyes are. He is handsome. So handsome. And he always seems to look at me like I am something special, treasured. I realize I am staring at him when I should be answering him, and I am ashamed.

  “I feel wonderful.” I mean it. I don’t recall ever feeling this good. “Did you put something in that food to make me feel this good?”

  Alex stands up, his smile gone. “Why would you ask that?”

  I stand and place a hand on his arm. “It was a joke. You enjoy jokes, right?”

  “Of course.” He relaxes, but for once, his eyes are not looking at me. They are staring off into the distance. I miss his gaze.

  “I do have a question.” We are walking out of the hall, then up the stairs. I like the feel of Alex’s hand in mine. “We are engaged?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that means we w
ill get married?”

  Alex stops on the stair and looks at me. “Yes.”

  I try to pull up a memory. It feels like it is hidden in my brain, miles away. “Do you love me?”

  Alex looks at me for a long time, then he reaches to replace a strand of curled hair into the clip that was holding it. “I think you are one of the most interesting, beautiful, fascinating people I have ever known.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Do I love you?” His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips and back again. “I have feelings for you I’ve never had for anyone else.”

  “Feelings aren’t love.”

  “Why does it matter? We’re a good match. I will take care of you.”

  “But you shouldn’t marry me if you don’t love me.” I don’t know how I know that, but I feel the truth of the statement as soon as it comes out of my mouth. “And I don’t know if I love you either.”

  Alex doesn’t speak. He begins walking again. We are at the top of the stairs. At the door to my room. “We cannot get married, Alex.”

  “We have to.” He looks at me, and sadness fills his eyes.

  “Why? You are free here, right?”

  “We are free to do what the king says.” Alex lowers his voice. “But I thought you would be happier about it.”

  I am not sure how to respond. I am happy, part of me. But another part is unhappy. That part feels distant, like the memory. But it is there. “I’m confused.”

  Alex closes his eyes. When he opens them, a different look emerges in his eyes. Determined. Almost angry. “You should get to sleep.” He opens the door for me and walks off. I watch him go. He does not stop at his room. He continues down the hall.

  Something in me warns that none of this is right. But I don’t know why or what. One thing I do know is that Alex knows more than he is telling me. I wait until he begins walking up the stairs that lead to his father’s suite, and as quietly as I can, I follow him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I don’t like it.”

  I am crouching behind the door to the king’s room. I can see through the thin slat that separates the door from the wall. I try not to move or breathe.

  “She is a lovely girl,” the king says. “She is directly from the State. We have learned much from her already, have we not? And the people seem to love her. They will cry tears of joy at your wedding.”

  “She doesn’t even understand marriage, Father.” Alex runs a hand through his blond hair. “The Scientists there make children in labs.”

  “It doesn’t matter what she thinks or what she knows.”

  “Couldn’t we wait?” Alex groans. “It’s only been a few days. This is all happening so fast. I don’t want to force her into this.”

  “You are the prince.” The king raises his voice, but he remains reclined on his bed. “And she is not forced. You saw her tonight. She is happy. And why shouldn’t she be? She will one day be queen of Athens.”

  “She wasn’t happy because of that, and you know it.”

  The king locks his hands behind his head. “It is a kindness, Alex. She is new and frightened, so much to process. We are giving her the best of what we have to offer in order to make her adjustment smooth.”

  “But drugging her, Father?” I put a hand to my mouth to keep from shouting out. “She feels happy because we are making her feel happy. But I have been with her. I have seen when the effects wear off. It isn’t fair to her.”

  My feelings have been the result of drugs? What does he mean when the effects wear off? Am I drugged now? Of course I am drugged now. I just accepted a marriage proposal. To a virtual stranger who does not love me and who I do not love.

  I think back on the week I have been here. I recall being happy at seeing Alex, his eyes, his attentions. But I barely remember anything before my arrival. It is blurry, like a picture hidden underneath water. These feelings are manufactured, my memories repressed. What kind of place is this? What kind of men are these? Alex’s shout brings me back.

  “I won’t do this.” Alex’s hands are shaking. “I know I said I would, but that was before . . .”

  “I believe you do have feelings for your fiancée.” The king smiles, but anger appears in his eyes. “How nice.”

  “She is a human being. We should not test on her. We should not force her into marriage so soon.”

  The king stands, towering over his son, his smile evaporated. “She is a subject of Athens. My subject. As are you. You would do well to remember that. Someday you will be king; you will make the decisions. But for now, I am ruler. I am the authority. I make the rules. If I want to test our pharmaceuticals on our subjects, then I will. If I want my son to marry a refugee from the State, he will. Do you understand?”

  Alex looks down, his face red, fists clenched. “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well.” The king sits again. The silence stretches out for so long, I am sure the conversation is over. I begin to silently retreat back to my chamber, but the king’s voice breaks through, deep and almost too quiet for me to hear him. “You will be happy to know I have changed my mind about your sister.”

  I look back through the space behind the door. Alex’s face lightens. “You won’t use her for . . . ?”

  “No, I won’t.” The king stretches out on his bed, pauses for several moments before he speaks. “We can save her, thanks to your fiancée.”

  “Thalli?” Alex’s voice cracks. “You’re going to use Thalli?”

  “Why not?” The king shrugs. “It’s obvious the State won’t send anyone after her. They wanted her dead. My hope when I heard of her arrival was that there would be more, that we could finally get our hands on what they have, the way my father always dreamed. But that won’t happen. She came alone, with nothing but that transport of hers and a suit we don’t need. And truly, son, I think we’ve exceeded the State in technology. From what Thalli told us, there is nothing they have that we want. They don’t even produce weapons. They dig into people’s brains and repress their emotions with their science. We can do the same with our drugs. They limit the population; so do we. But they live underground, afraid of what’s on the surface. We are looking to expand our horizons, take over the earth. So let them have their little world. We don’t need it. And we don’t need her. But no one here needs to know that. They need to love her and cheer for her and be happy she’s marrying the heir to the Athenian throne. We will do all we can to ensure Thalli is deeply loved by all.”

  The king smiles, and the sight of it makes my stomach want to rid itself of every decadent food I consumed. “Then when New Hope takes her and violently murders her, the Athenians will gladly go to war. I won’t have to argue with them or deal with these ridiculous guilty consciences. They will finally and completely destroy those people and claim the land that should have been ours from the start.”

  I am sick. I don’t even know if I can move from this spot. What have I done? What have they done? I am being drugged. I will be killed? And for what? So the innocent people in New Hope can be eradicated to satiate this man’s greed? I came to help promote peace. But I will start a war. A war meant to kill everyone I love.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Alex rushes from his father’s room. I will wait here until the king’s breathing is regular enough to assure me he is asleep.

  The reality of this situation makes my head hurt. The attraction I have been feeling for Alex is manufactured. I assume the drug is administered through the food. Or the perfume. Of course it’s the perfume, “made especially for me,” the woman said. Made from the pharmaceuticals they specialize in. It makes me forget why I am here, who I am, what I know. I am just relieved it hasn’t made me so unaware that I told them about my relationship with New Hope. So far, my friends are safe. But not for long. When will the king kill me? How much time do I have?

  I need to escape. In our travels I have noted there is only one exit from Athens, and that is guarded by several men, who are large and carry weapons desig
ned to prevent people from leaving. Peter scaled a wall from the roof of one of the factories. He explained how to do that, but he also warned that I had to be alone when I did it. But the guards are always nearby. There will be even more now that I am Alex’s fiancée.

  Bile rises into my throat as fear paralyzes me. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” The thought calms me, reminds me of my talk with John, of the Designer who cares for me. He allowed me to survive the State, to arrive safely in New Hope. He is with me. That is what the psalm says. I take a deep breath. I need him to show me what to do. How to avoid the drugs, how to get a message to my friends, how to escape.

  The king is snoring. I lean my head out the door and see a guard walking from one end of the hallway to the other. One end has stairs that lead to my room. The other has stairs that lead to the workers’ quarters. I do not want to go there. Someone might be awake and see me. I cannot be seen leaving here. I need to get to the stairs that lead back down to my bedroom. I pray that the Designer will make me invisible.

  When the guard passes the door and walks toward the other end of the hallway, I move as quickly and as quietly as I can. I am almost halfway down the stairs when I trip over the dress and fall hard down two steps. I bite back a groan, but it is too late. The guard heard me. I hear his heavy feet moving toward me. I run down the hallway.

  Right into Alex.

  “Who is down here?”

  Alex pulls me to him, smothering my face in his chest. He leans into me, his mouth at my ear. “Don’t say anything.” He then jerks his head up in the direction of the guard. I keep my head hidden. Alex’s heart is beating as fast as mine is.

  “Sorry, Reginald.” Alex’s voice is quiet, calm. He even injects a bit of nervous laughter. “I was just spending some time with my fiancée. You know . . .”