by Lyndsay Ely
Pity dozed, trying to remember when she had ever felt so perfectly warm. Max’s head lay against her shoulder, each exhalation of his breath tickling the fine hairs of her neck. Beneath the blankets, their limbs entwined. The sensation of his skin against hers was so calming that she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb anything. Occasionally her hand rustled through the dark spikes of his hair, but mostly they were still.
She had no idea how long they had lain like this before Max rose up on one elbow and looked around sheepishly. The comfortable quiet shifted to one tinged by hesitance.
“I think your dress is ruined,” he said finally.
The garment hung limply off the edge of the bed, dark smudges marring the fabric. Pity also saw a streak of blue on her forearm and several across Max’s chest and shoulders. She suspected she would find plenty more like them were she to lift the blankets and look. “I don’t care. If I have to wear a costume, I’d prefer the one you made me for the Theatre.”
A spiteful shadow crossed his eyes. “Your arrangement with Sheridan and Selene—does she really need him that badly?”
“Selene seems to think so.” Pity took a deep breath. “And I tried to remind myself of that, and the fact that we’d made a deal. But with whatever everyone was thinking about Sheridan and me, and then tonight—with Halcyon announcing the next Finale… and you—it was too much.” She shook her head. “Something came over me. I didn’t even mean to come here.”
“Are you… upset that you did?”
“No.” She sat up to face him. “Are you… upset that we…?” Searching for any hint of regret in his face, she couldn’t finish. A mistake, said a fearful voice. He’s going to say this was a foolish mistake. The thought made something within her begin to crumble.
Max looked away, as if working out some complex reckoning. Then he raised his head again and leaned closer. The light touch of his lips coupled with that of his fingers, which entwined with hers.
“No.” He kissed her again. “No, I am not.”
A smile overtook her, dumb and insistent. “Still, I shouldn’t have cornered you like that.”
Max kissed the base of her palm, heedless of the dried paint there. “It feels like all you ever do is corner me.”
She felt a twinge of dread. You’re going to have to ask eventually. “Max, where were you going?” He tensed. “And what did you mean about me showing up whenever you’re trying to leave?”
“That… Forget it, okay?”
“Oh, not a chance.” She held his gaze, fed up with things left unsaid. “There’s no way I’m letting you get away without an explanation. Especially not now.”
Max sighed. “I knew you were going to be trouble,” he said. “I knew it from the moment you tried to kill me.” He let go of her hand. “Home.” He said it in a way that sounded like the complete opposite. “I was going home. Now and when we found you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Max drew his knees to his chest and worried one of the rings in his eyebrow. “If I explain, you have to swear not to say a word of this to anyone else. Not Luster, not Eva, not even Selene. No one.”
The reluctance in his voice was like a darkened doorway—one that if she stepped through and turned on the light, there would be no way to turn it off again. But she had to see what was on the other side. “I promise.”
“Swear it.”
“I do,” Pity said. “On my mother’s guns. I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”
But she could tell it wasn’t her promise he wanted—whatever he held inside, it scared him. The worry was etched into his brow, the set of his jaw, and the way he was breathing, as if he wasn’t sure he was getting air or not. Seconds ticked by: one… two… three…
“I lied to you,” he said abruptly, as if to get the words out before he could reconsider. “About my life before Cessation. I wasn’t poor, and I didn’t move around. I grew up in Columbia. My family had—has—money. A lot of it.”
“That’s it?” She almost laughed again, but the haunted look in his eyes cut it off. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Living my own life,” he said. “Doing what I want and not only what I’m expected to. You should understand that.”
“Of course I do,” she said. “But if that’s what you want, why would you go back?”
He looked away from her. A full minute passed, one in which each second lengthened and expanded, only to settle on Max’s shoulders like invisible weights.
“Because,” he said quietly, “I promised that someday I would.”
A chill settled on Pity. She pulled the blanket tighter, thinking back to the day at the fountain and his single candle. “What was her name?” She couldn’t help it. If Max was telling the truth, she wanted—needed—all of it. “And how did she die?”
If he was surprised that she had figured out that much, it didn’t show. “Sonya,” he said. “She was murdered.”
The admission was a fresh wound on an old injury, seeping from him. His eyes went red around the edges.
She didn’t want to ask but couldn’t bear not to. “Did you love her?”
“We weren’t really old enough for that, but…” He stopped, considered. “Yes, I guess I did.”
Pity felt something twist in her chest. “Are you… still in love with her?”
Max shook his head. “No. No, just… just listen, okay? I don’t know how else to tell this but straight through.”
He lay down again, the mattress creaking under his weight. Pity slid back beside him. Hesitantly, she laid her head on his shoulder. Max wrapped an arm around her, chasing off the goose bumps that had broken out on her skin.
“She was no one…” he began softly.
CHAPTER 32
Pity heard the gravity in his story, his reluctance to tell it, in the very first words.
“She was no one,” Max repeated, as if reacquainting himself with a particular definition of that statement. “Her mother and father worked in our house, and sometimes she hung around the servants’ areas when she wasn’t in school. I had seen her, but I never really noticed her until the day I caught her reading in our library.
“When she saw me, she… she begged me not to say anything, to not get her parents in trouble. I remember thinking that she shouldn’t have touched the books without permission. But I also remember being embarrassed that she was apologizing so… profusely. Like she was afraid of me. So I asked her if she wanted to stay and read for a while, to keep me company.”
Pity stared at the bare plane of his chest, trying to ignore the ache in hers. “That was kind of you.”
“I’m not sure it was,” he replied. “I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. My only ‘friends’ were like me, and I only ever saw them at whatever ridiculous event was being thrown that week. You think the scheming in Cessation is something? It doesn’t compare to what goes on in Columbia. At every meeting, every party, my parents’ associates would parade around like peacocks while at the same time acting as if they had a knife at their ribs. It was brittle, exhausting. Even as a kid I hated it.
“Sonya was so far from that world. She went to a good school, on a special scholarship. She’d read anything she got her hands on—physics, art, philosophy. That’s how it started. We’d read together, on the pretext of studying the same topics. But mostly we talked. She told me about the pieces of Columbia I knew nothing about: the slums; the shortages; wages that would cover rent or food or medicine, but not all three; jobs that paid well, but only because they were dangerous.
“At first my parents didn’t care. Maybe they thought I was just having some fun with her. Then one day we snuck out to a rally for better working conditions. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before—thousands of people coming together. So many were struggling to live, but that didn’t dampen the undercurrent of hope. One group was painting a mural with some slogan. I don’t even remember what it was, but I picked up a paintbrush to help and… lost myself. Bef
ore I knew it, I had covered an entire corner of wall with the ugliest flowers you’ve ever seen.
“When I got home, I was so energized, so optimistic. I thought I had seen the truth on both sides, which meant I could make others see it, too. When I told my parents…” Max stared at the ceiling. “They told me that Sonya wasn’t a proper companion for me… and punctuated it by firing her parents.”
Pity shifted beside him. That was the world you tried to run to. Not Max’s—Sonya’s. That’s what would have been waiting for you in Columbia. When he didn’t continue, she took his hand in hers and squeezed. “What did you do?”
Max took a deep breath. “What I should have done was never see Sonya again. What I did do—what we did—was leave. Sonya knew about some movements in the northern cities. I had access to plenty of funds. We thought we’d be long gone before anyone even knew we’d left.
“In reality, we made it a day and a half before my parents’ people found us. They dragged us out of the old barn we had crashed in after a day of hitching rides. Sonya was screaming… I think I was screaming, too. They separated us. When I asked where they were taking us, they said home.”
Max stopped again. This time a full minute passed before he continued.
“When I saw my parents, they were livid. There was a lot of yelling, mostly on their end, about what could have happened if anyone had found us, found out who I was—kidnappers, ransom, or worse. They didn’t want me to see Sonya ever again. I told them that they couldn’t keep us apart forever. After that, I became a prisoner, someone on my heels at every minute. And Sonya, she…” Max’s voice broke.
Pity threaded her fingers through his hair again as if doing so would somehow draw his pain into her.
“They fished her body out of a river. The story was that she had lost her scholarship and was so upset that she jumped from a bridge.” A pair of tears drew wet lines on his cheeks. “I knew it was a lie. And my parents knew that I knew. It wasn’t a suicide—it was a lesson.”
Frost blossomed in her chest. She thought of her father. As nasty and indifferent as he was, there were domains of cruelty he’d never come close to.
“A few months later,” Max continued, “when things had calmed down, I left for good. It wasn’t easy, but I did it, keeping my head down and away from the obvious paths. For months I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. I just kept moving. Finally, with the last of my money, I bought a ticket on the Trans-Rail and rode it to the very end. After that…”
“Cessation,” Pity finished.
“Yes,” he said. “The end of the world.”
“I’m sorry.” Pity’s voice chased away the grim silence that had descended. Sonya. Finn. Their roads to Cessation both bore grave markers. “But none of that explains why you want to go back. I’d think you’d want to keep as many miles between them and you as possible.”
Max turned onto his side so their faces were only inches apart. “Because Sonya wanted to change things, make them better for everyone. I decided I’d do it for her. I thought sooner or later my parents would find me, no matter where I hid. And when time passed and they didn’t, I decided I’d return one day and use their influence to do everything she—we—had dreamed of.” He took a strand of Pity’s hair between his fingers. Stared at it. “There were times I tried to leave. I always lost my nerve. A little longer, I reasoned. What did it matter? Then, when Santino and Olivia went after Beeks, I volunteered to go along as a helping hand, figuring I’d have them drop me at the Trans-Rail. Save the pain of good-byes, y’know? But then we caught Beeks, and I still hadn’t done it. And then… after that…”
“You found me,” she said.
“Yes.”
And you decided I needed you more than you needed to go home. She sat up. “So I was just a reprieve, an excuse for you to stick around Cessation a little longer.”
“What?” he said. “No!”
Pity twisted toward him. “Really? Because it sounds like you were looking for any excuse you could find to avoid going back.”
“You needed help!” Max protested, looking at her like she was some strange animal he had never seen before.
“I did. Then.” Heat rose in her face. “But that was months ago and you’re still here. What made you decide you had to leave now?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“No, it’s not.”
“You and Sheridan!” His eyes smoldered. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you and him, especially with you mooning over how much he cared about fixing CONA and helping the dissidents and…” He stopped. “And because no matter what I do I can’t keep my mind off you. It wasn’t so bad with Garland, but now…”
Pity flushed. Of course he knew about Garland—how couldn’t he? Her voice rose with anger and embarrassment. “Then why have you been keeping away all this time? Acting like I’m hardly anything to you?”
With a noise of exasperation, Max jumped to his feet and strode away. “Haven’t you been paying attention? When I go back east do you think I can take anyone with me? My parents already murdered one person I cared about. Do you believe they’d think twice about another? Dammit, Pity, the closer you are to me, the more danger you’re in!” He stood resolute in the center of the room, fists knotted at his sides.
Well, that’s not fair, she thought. It was hard to stay angry with him when the light and shadows fought their own battle on his naked body. The dark was winning on his lean shoulders but giving way at the angles of his hips. She rose to meet him on the same ground, letting the blankets fall away as she crossed her arms over her chest. “If you haven’t noticed, I can take care of myself.”
His gaze flickered over her.
“And no matter what you say, you don’t really seem to be in a hurry to leave.” She padded over to him.
“I have to go back,” he said. “Sonya…”
“Is dead. Like Finn. But the difference is that I know Finn would want me to be where I’m happy, not where I thought I had to be, out of some stitched-together obligation. And Sheridan wants to be in Columbia. Why not swallow your pride and do what you can to help him from here? You know this world as well as anyone.”
“It’s not enough.”
“What would be enough? Tell me.” She squared her shoulders. “Actually, look me in the eye and tell me that leaving Cessation—leaving me and Casimir and everyone else—is really, truly what you want. Not what you think you should do but what you want to do.”
He stared at her. His lips trembled and parted, as if he was about to speak, and then they closed, as did his eyes.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. A moment later, his hands found her waist.
“Tell the truth,” she said. “If you could ask Sonya what she would want for you, what do you think she’d say?”
“I think…” She could hear the struggle in his voice: affection and longing fighting the years of calcified guilt. “I think she’d tell me to stay right here, with you.” He buried his face in her neck. “I don’t want to go back there.”
She tightened her arms around him. “I know,” she said. “I know.”
He kissed her again. Softly at first, and then with a growing hunger. The chill that had begun to settle on Pity’s skin disappeared. They tumbled back into bed, burying themselves in the blankets and trading kisses back and forth until Max stopped suddenly.
“What about Sheridan?” he said, breathless.
“What about him?” Pity said. “I keep up the act. I have to or else Selene will put me in the ring with Daneko. You said it yourself: I can’t cross Selene.”
“I know, but…” He trailed off.
“You’re still jealous!” She laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
“No, none of this is, but it’s been eating me up, and I don’t know what else to do. Max, I want to stay in Casimir without being ordered to murder someone whenever Selene feels slighted. Is that so much to ask?”
She tried to kiss him again, bu
t he held her back. “It’s only… I don’t like you anywhere near him.”
“I know. But if Selene can get him the presidency, he can keep Cessation safe. Isn’t that worth it?” She smiled. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise that whatever I have to do to help Selene keep him here, it won’t look anything like this.”
She pressed her lips against his, then hooked a hand around his neck and fell back, pulling all of his delicious weight down on top of her.
CHAPTER 33
The target exploded, sending a spray of violet powder into the air. As the wind took it, carrying it over the edge of Eden, the onlookers clapped. Pity took aim and sent three more to the same fate. More applause. By the time she obliterated the remaining setup, the far end of the makeshift range was a rainbow haze, drifting slowly to the city below.
“Marvelous!” A patron clapped Sheridan on the back. “You’d best stay on this one’s good side, Patrick.”
“I’m doing my best.” He shot her an enamored, effortlessly convincing smile.
It was supposed to be a party, though by Casimir’s standards Pity wouldn’t name it that. Barely a dozen people stood beneath the crisp, cloudless sky, lingering around tables set with refreshments or reclining on padded sofas. While numerous Tin Men did their best to blend in with the garden, Eden was otherwise closed off, the usual selection of Casimir’s workers excluded.
If it was a party, Pity figured, it was an intensely private one. But hope stirred. Whatever promises and pacts Selene was making on behalf of Sheridan, they seemed to be bearing fruit. There was an elite air to these particular guests, a flavor of confidence only exuded by those comfortable in their power.
“Yes, her talent is peerless!” Halcyon flitted about like a gigantic hummingbird, extolling the virtues of the Theatre to anyone who would listen. “Serendipity never fails to astound.”
“That’s nothing.” Pity set to reloading her spent weapons. “The targets aren’t even moving.”
“She’s right.” Nearby, Selene lounged beneath a trellis of bougainvillea, sunshine dappling her charcoal sundress so that she resembled some kind of wildcat. Adora sat beside her, doing nothing to hide her boredom, while Beau stood watch over them both. “Halcyon, why don’t you and Pity show everyone something a little more exciting.”