Dreaming Awake

by EF Joyce

  Chapter 28

  The day was overcast, the dismal gray light filtering through the transparent ceiling, illuminating the room with shadows. Rozlyn folded yet another dark blue button up shirt and added it to the box. Faifax didn't have much to pack, especially since all his weapons and uniforms had been confiscated. Since losing his position as commander, he'd been given a three day notice to vacate his apartment on the upper level, and a voucher for a single bunk room on the lowest level, with the poorest of Arcadia's citizens. Though her father was furious with both of them, he wouldn't kick her out of her royal apartment as long as she kept her promise to stay uninvolved in politics, and so Faifax was moving in with her.

  Not wanting to wait any longer, they had been married the day before in the simplest ceremony possible; a syndicate member to oversee the legal documents and Fallon as their witness. Despite the private ceremony, word had instantly spread to the media of their years-long secret relationship, marriage, and his removal from the military. The former commander and the screw-up princess had become the number one news story overnight. Comments on the A-net ranged from anger, to disappointment and jealously over the commander's poor choice in partner.

  "You barely have enough stuff to fill one box," she said, tossing his silk robe on top of his clothes.

  "Well then I won't clutter your apartment," he said, adding a metal framed photo of the two of them that he'd kept on the nightstand to the box, which was now three-quarters full. "I guess that's all of it."

  "Our apartment," she corrected. "I'm sorry. I didn't think my father would do that...take away your job, I mean."

  "It's not your fault, love," he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead. "The king's pride was wounded. He had to do something, that's just the kind of man he is. But things are going to get worse before they get better with the Old World, and he'll ask for me to come back, I know it. This is only temporary."

  "If you say so," she replied. He picked up the box and they left his apartment, dark other than the thin light from the angry sky. Together they walked through Arcadia's faux marble halls, running into few people at this early hour.

  Apparently he'd been Arcadia's most desirable bachelor for a number of years, though Rozlyn hadn't known it. She'd always considered herself above the petty gossip, even though she'd been its subject more than a few times. The general consensus was that the commander was way too good for the princess and she didn't deserve him by a long shot, especially considering her recent breakdown. But what did they know? Those people had no idea what it was like, always being photographed and analyzed, their every move picked apart for judgment. They didn't know what it was like to discover their whole family was made of cold blooded murderers. Fuck them all.

  They made it to her apartment without an assailment from the paparazzi, thankfully. Rozlyn unpacked his pathetic box, adding his poor assortment of clothing to her walk-in closet and setting the framed photo on her own nightstand. He had taken it with his comm on one of their secret dates in the sky garden after hours, the night sky a brilliant backdrop, both of them grinning like fools. Happy.

  "How about we go out to dinner tonight?" he asked from the bedroom doorway, seeing her staring at the photo.

  "Out there? In public? No thank you," she said, incredulous.

  "Come on, Roz. We have to face them eventually. Screw what they think. We'll throw in their faces how happy we are," he gave her small smile. The princess looked at him, admiring his muscular frame as he leaned in the doorway, his blue eyes gazing at her. For the past two years he'd stuck by her side, and what had she done? Slept with a bunch of other guys. And not just for cover, but because she'd wanted to. Rozlyn was a screw up and they were right, he was too good for her. But they were together for real now, married. She would be better for him. She would change.

  "Ok. Let's do it."

  The princess admired herself in the full-length mirror; the cream-colored silk gown hugging her curves in all the right places, her copper hair spiraled in loose curls, subtle make up shimmering on her face.

  "You look stunning," Faifax said, walking into her closet wearing a crisp Andini suit that she was certain he hadn't owned before.

  "You're not so bad yourself," she said, walking over to him and straightening his tie. "New suit?"

  "Well, I couldn't take the princess of Arcadia to dinner wearing plain clothes, and as my military dress was all taken away, I had to buy something."

  "I approve," she said with a smile.

  Together they walked through the Imperial Residential Wing arm in arm, chins lifted and eyes boldly meeting the judgmental gazes of the other top Arcadians, all dressed and ready for a night out. Her gold Belini heels clicked on the faux marble as they entered the main square, strolling past the fountain; square-shaped with a statue of Algore Evershed posed regally in the center, the designer and engineer of Arcadia.

  Faifax led her to Sava, a modern little restaurant shoved in the corner of the square, all metal and sharp angles, just like Faifax's old apartment. Rozlyn preferred a softer style, though she supposed she would have to remodel her rooms now that they shared them. Faifax shouldn't be forced to suffer her girlish tastes at every turn, reminding him that he'd lost his own place and was now living on her generosity. She wanted to make the apartment theirs.

  The counter servant appraised them with a calculating stare as they entered, and Rozlyn knew immediately their whole date night would be posted, play by play on the A-net, from the perspective of Sava's employees. The princess was used to be watched, spied on, judged, photographed and analyzed, but her relationship with Faifax had always been the secret part of her life, the one thing that was hers alone, that no one could touch. She'd always thought she'd feel freer to have this secret opened up to the world, allowed to go anywhere together, unquestioned, but instead it made her feel more vulnerable, as if she were walking through the corridors naked.

  "Reservation for Lucia-Agresta," he said, receiving a curt nod from the servant, who promptly led them to their table on the top level, open to the clear ceiling and the sky, which wasn't much to look at that evening considering it was still raining. Royal blood took precedence over all else, and now he'd become Faifax Lucia-Agresta. Didn't it bother him, to lose his job, title, wages and even name to be with her? Only recently did she consider their relationship to be anything remotely serious. Had he felt differently all along? Content to wait in the sidelines for Rozlyn to grow up and realize she loved him? The people were right, she definitely didn't deserve him.

  The princess sat rigid at the table, methodically smoothing out the crisp white table cloth. Was she nervous? With her husband, this man she knew so well?

  "A bottle of Ardini white for the table, please," he ordered, the servant nodding and retreating.

  "I thought I wasn't allowed to drink wine anymore," Rozlyn teased. He reached across the table and took her hand, running his callused thumb over her smooth knuckles.

  "A glass or two won't hurt, I think," he smiled. "It's nice, being out like this with you. We should have done this earlier, told everyone, I mean."

  "I don't think I was ready," she admitted, picking at the tablecloth again.

  "But you are now?" he asked, blue eyes searching for reassurance.

  "Of course. I love you," and if felt wonderful to say those words, out loud where anyone could hear them.

  "I love you too, darling." The servant appeared again, opened the bottle and poured out two glasses, leaving the bottle in a pitcher of ice. "A toast, to our future. May it be glorious, grand, and full of surprises."

  Chapter 29

  I

  This should have been the happiest moment in his life. A children's tale, a dream realized. The elevator was dark, the commander silent as they ascended to Drexel's future as an Arcadian. An Arcadian. A dream every grubby Underling had a million times – far-fetched, impossible, hopeless, but there nonetheless, always there. That dome in the sky had lingered through his life; as int
angible and unreachable as heaven itself. But he had not come to be one of them. He would be a shadow on the wall, a knife in the darkness. He would become nothing; a face to be forgotten, a simple soldier in a legion, and when they'd failed to remember him he would strike.

  Hale had been forthright about a lot of things, certain that Drexel couldn't betray the rebellion as long as he monitored his thoughts, but he still hadn't revealed everything. What job would he have to do when he arrived? The elevator lurched to a sudden stop, the doors whooshing open to Drexel's new, undeserved life. He stepped out into a white-washed world, as clean and indistinct as the rebel headquarters. Two guards stood outside the elevator doors and two more outside the automatic glass doors that separated this room from Arcadia.

  The commander led and Drexel followed, his eyes moving over everything, taking in all the details. Arcadia's bottom level was plain; white painted and cement floored with labeled pipes running over the walls and ceiling, though Drexel couldn't read them. They entered another elevator several corridors away, the doors brushed gold metal rather than rusty green flecked paint. The inside had lights and carpets, the walls full mirrors. Drexel studied himself next to the commander, a fuzz of hair just starting to grow out of his shaved head, his hazel eyes red and rimmed with shadows. Compared to Hale he was short and skinny, pale and weak.

  When the doors opened again, Drexel couldn't keep the naked awe from his face. The faux marble floor gleamed and glittered, the walls were all Smart, displaying models advertising new gowns or make up and perfume, new comms and bigger Smart Walls, switching out with scenes from the night sky or the aquarium. Drexel paused next to one of the walls, a dark backdrop with a million glittering diamonds flickering on its surface. Stars. He had never seen the sky, or even a picture of the sky. He reached out to touch it, but the commander yanked his arm back, snapping him back to reality.

  "You'll see the stars soon enough. Now, hurry up. We're running low on time." He tore his gaze away from the Smart Wall of stars and followed Hale once again. Whichever floor they were on, it wasn't the top one, since the ceiling was plain, painted blue. How he longed to see the upper level – the sun, the moons, the stars!

  All his worries and guilt were shorn away with wonder as they slipped through the hallways, passing men and women dressed in all sorts of colors – bright, shiny cloth, furry fabric, spiked shoes. Pink hair, blue hair, blonde, brown, red, black, white, curled, spiked, shaved, tattoos on arms, chests, hands, cheeks, spiked shoes and wedged shoes and glittering makeup, inch-long eyelashes and metallic nails. He had ascended to another world, one stranger to him that he ever would have imagined.

  Hale pulled him down several corridors and through three locked sets of doors before dumping him in a plain waiting room with several gleaming metal chairs organized in a square, three chairs on each side. In the center was a short table with coffee, cups, cream and sugar laid out. Smart Walls flickered with life on three of the four walls, alternating between ads and a telodrama about a rich Arcadian girl who was trying to crash a fashion show and impress the man of her dreams.

  Nearly an hour passed before someone came to fetch him, a bored-looking soldier with only one stripe on his uniform. Drexel followed him into a cramped office furnished with a metal desk and two chairs, then left. A few minutes later, a woman entered, her brown hair pulled into a tight bun, brown eyes magnified behind a pair of thick glasses, three stripes on her crisp blazer.

  "Welcome to Arcadia," she said, sitting down in the chair and activating her touch screen desk. Drexel GHQ357889. Arcadians do not have ID numbers, they have surnames. Your ID will be erased from the system. As of today, your assigned surname will be Caspari and you are an official member of the Arcadian Army, rank A6, Magical Experimentation Division," a sour look crossed her face and Drexel had the feeling he now outranked her.

  "Before leaving my office, you will be implanted with an ID microchip. Your apartment is on Level 1, Jeshi Sector, Number 332. This apartment comes with the job. If you are relieved from duty or terminate your employment with the Arcadian Army at any time, you will be reassigned to new quarters. Any questions?" He had about a million. Where did he go for work? What did his job involve? How did he get food? How would he even begin to find his way around this place?

  "Um, where do I go for work?"

  "You will report back here, Level 3, Lucia Sector at 0800 tomorrow morning. Now, Merelli here will insert your new chip and off you go," she said, without bothering to wait for his other questions. She left the room and the one-stripe soldier came back in. He made Drexel hold out his arm, placed a gun looking object with a metal straw sticking out against his skin. There was a pop and a sharp pain, and then it was over, with nothing more than an angry red splotch to mark the occurrence. The solider took then took Drexel's fingerprints with a touch pad before leading him out.

  "I'll show you your rooms," he said, clearly furious he'd been given such a servant's task. They turned down a few hallways and then entered an elevator. "Top floor," the soldier said, commanding the elevator. Did he just say top floor? As in, the one with the sky ceiling, where the royals and the syndicate lived? Surely that wasn't right. Drexel remained silent until the elevator lurched gently to a stop then stepped off, peering upward for his first glimpse of the sky.

  Disappointingly, the weather was overcast and the sky looked much like it did from The Unders. The sun and stars would come out eventually, he supposed, but after a lifetime of waiting, the gray haze of clouds was nothing short of depressing. One-stripe led him down a few more corridors, following the crowd into an open square with a fountain in the center, shops and restaurants on all sides. People bustled about, clutching shopping bags, darting in and out of stores or gossiping in the square.

  They walked past those and down a few more twisting halls, all plastered with yellow signs that Drexel couldn't read. How would he ever find his way back to work? The corridor dead-ended at a set of glass automatic doors with a yellow sign over the top. Was this the entrance to the Jeshi Sector?

  "Press your thumb there," the soldier said. "I don't have access to this sector. Your room number is 132. Don't forget to report to to the Lucia Sector at 0800 tomorrow morning." The young man turned and left, without waiting for Drexel's reply. He pressed his thumb to a glass, red-lit plate next to the doors, and the doors whooshed opened. Drexel proceeded into the Jeshi Sector, which was lined with numbered doors. He continued until he found 132, a set of wooden doors with another finger print reader. They clicked unlocked with his thumb print and Drexel entered his new apartments.

  If he'd thought Haydi's place was nice, he'd never even begun to imagine the luxury of Arcadia. The floor was padded with soft, thick carpet in a dark blue shade, the two side walls were Smart, and opposite the door was a giant fireplace constructed of faux stones with three plush gray sofas gathered around it. The Smart Walls were set to display a dark blue background with floating yellow orbs slowly rotating around the screen, bathing the room in soft light. The ceiling was open to the sky, the gray clouds darkening overhead.

  He removed his boots, not wanting to dirty the luxurious carpet. Behind the fireplace was a smaller room, all windows with a two person marble dining table and a pillar in the center with a screen and glass window. He touched the screen and it flared to life.

  "Please speak your order," it said, in a robotic female voice.

  "What?" Drexel said aloud.

  "I'm sorry, I did not recognize that command. Please state the name of the food or beverage you would like to order." Food? Now that you mention it, I'm starving.

  "Rice?" he asked, being as that was the main food source of the rebellion. Before he'd become a member all he'd eaten were protein packs, the sole food source of The Unders. He'd be more than happy to never see one again.

  "One moment, please," the voice said. A whirring sound erupted from behind the window and a plate of steaming rice appeared with three sauces on the side, each in their own separate dish. He t
ook the plate out and set it on the table.

  "Water?" he asked.

  "One moment, please," the voice repeated. Another noise and then a glass bottle of water dropped in, as if from magic. He devoured the rice and water, leaving the empty plate and bottle on the table before wandering into the adjacent room, a bedroom. The bed alone was larger than his old room with Haydi, piled high with soft, dark blue and gray sheets, pillows and blankets.

  A walk-in closet to the left housed an entire row of army uniforms, all with six red stripes. There were also lounge pants, plain T-shirts and even a suit, all in his size. How long had they known he was coming? Or had they done all this while he waited in the army sector? Drexel went into the bathroom, eyes wide at all the marble, glass and scented soaps. Stripping off his ragged Unders clothes, he took a hot shower. After a few minutes of figuring out the touch screen commands, he washed away the grime and stench of his previous life. He dressed himself in clean lounge pants and a T-shirt, then collapsed, exhausted into the oversized bed.

  II

  Drexel found his way to the army sector those first few days by asking everyone he encountered for directions. Some seemed puzzled that he'd need to ask, considering signs were plastered everywhere, but he didn't dare admit that he couldn't read. So far he'd been put under the command of a bad tempered man called Antony Luchini, who was also the prince's second. He enchanted weapons and armor from the start of his days to the finish, draining himself to exhaustion every night, yet Luchini still pushed him harder. Nearly a week had passed and still no word from the Monarch on what he should be doing.