by Rosiee Thor
Instead, he’d only protected himself.
Such thinking wouldn’t help him now. He was only dissecting his past mistakes rather than making new ones. Because that’s what awaited him—more mistakes. He could not avoid them.
That’s what Anna would tell him were she still by his side. She would tell him no one ever did anything great without first doing it wrong. In response, Eliza would cock her head and fix Anna with a mirthful stare, proclaiming such a proverb nonsense. Anna would roll her eyes and say something about perfection being a useless aspiration. And Eliza would let her sit in her accusation for exactly one moment longer than Anna’s comfort allowed before putting an end to the discussion with something like, There are no mistakes, only choices and what you do with them.
Nathaniel hadn’t had a choice when his mother died, but he had a choice now.
He’d choose to finish Anna’s work. He’d find out what else his father was hiding and bring it before the council. He’d abolish his father’s regulations on tech and knock down the Settlement’s walls. He wouldn’t let his father make anyone else with mechanical hearts—or limbs, or lives—somehow against the law. He would put an end to his father’s tenure, even if it meant taking on the mantle himself.
He’d do it for his mother. He’d do it for Anna—and Roman. He’d do it for himself.
Returning to the holocom’s main display, Nathaniel selected the label Personal Notes. If there was anything worth finding, it would be there. But when the first document loaded, it wasn’t scientific notes full of numbers and formulas. It was a scanned copy of an old letter, written by hand. Pointed and heavy, though not as severe as it was now, Nathaniel recognized his father’s handwriting immediately.
Dear Miss Perl,
It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance this evening. I particularly enjoyed your joke about the pudding.
As you know, my mission to your planet is diplomatic, on behalf of the Queen, so I will likely meet with your father again. I do so hope you will be in attendance, as his heir, but also as a familiar face. It is so much less agonizing to sit through so much dullness when I know there’s a chance to hear your voice—which is both lovely and so insightful on matters of state.
Wishing you well, and hopeful we will
continue to encounter each other,
Oliver Fremont
Nathaniel’s breath hitched. This was, undoubtedly, the first letter his father had ever sent his mother. He’d never considered a time before they’d met, but to see they’d exchanged letters, not unlike Nathaniel and Eliza had, Nathaniel suddenly felt small. They’d had a life before him, a life before his father changed. Nathaniel scrolled farther down and selected another.
My dearest Oliver,
As your time here draws closer to an end, I can’t help but think in what-ifs.
What if you were not beholden to the Tower?
What if the Queen didn’t need you by her side?
What if Earth Adjacent needed you more?
I know it is unfair of me to think such things. You are your own person, and you must choose for yourself. I know the Tower is your home and the Queen your family. It would be wrong for me to ask you to stay.
And still, I ask, because it would be just as wrong for me not to.
What if you stayed?
What if Earth Adjacent was your home?
What if I became your family?
I know you are not one for subtlety, and so I will be plain. What if, my dearest, you did not go back, and, instead, what if you married me?
Yours,
Isla
Nathaniel felt like his mouth was stuck shut, jaw clenched, tongue dry. Eliza had shown him only facts, names and dates and events. But this was intimate and personal.
He opened the last record in the file.
Isla,
I left the samples you asked for in the cabinet where it’s dark. I hope their brief exposure to sunlight doesn’t ruin them. There’s a surprise in there for you as well.
I love you.
Oliver
Nathaniel let out a long, slow breath. This was the last letter his parents had exchanged. It hardly felt like a letter at all—more like a note you’d leave before going out. It was casual, concise—routine. Before his mother had died, they’d had a life, all three of them. His mother was the Commissioner, but she was also a scientist, and she’d loved his father enough to marry him. They’d had no mandate, like Nathaniel and Eliza. They’d chosen this life.
And then his father had chosen her death.
Nathaniel nearly retched. There’s a surprise for you in there as well. Had that been the poison? Had he left her some treat, laced with death? She probably trusted him; she probably never saw it coming.
I love you. His father’s last written words to his mother had been such a blatant lie.
“Nathaniel?”
Nathaniel looked up, eyes aching and watery, to see his father ducking behind the hidden doorway.
Nathaniel fought the urge to run, but it was replaced by a stronger desire to launch himself at his father. However, no matter how badly Nathaniel wanted to hurt him, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his fists. Roman’s death, only a few days ago, still haunted him, and if he struck another human being, Nathaniel feared it would shatter him.
That would make them the same, and Nathaniel didn’t want to be his father. Not anymore.
The Commissioner’s gaze swept over the scene, taking in the holocom in Nathaniel’s hand.
Nathaniel set it down, closing the files. “I-I only—”
“What are you doing?” his father growled.
“I only wanted t-to get away from the party. The crowd, and all the dancing …”
His father crossed the room to the desk, standing opposite Nathaniel. He glanced down and picked up one of the hinges from the table. “And so you thought you’d hide from your fiancée in my office? And these, what, fell off in your hand?”
Nathaniel swallowed slowly. “I didn’t do it.” It was a half-truth, but talking to a liar, even a half-truth felt generous.
His father raised an eyebrow. “And who might have snuck into my office to dismantle the hinges on my bookcase door, leaving it open for you to find?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Nathaniel muttered.
“Don’t tell me—it was the Technician, wasn’t it? Is that the lie you’ve concocted in that minuscule brain of yours?”
“What? No— I—”
“Don’t bother, Nathaniel. It’s too late. I captured the Technician already. There is no more outlaw for you to chase, no more bounty to be won.”
Nathaniel’s stomach sank. So Anna hadn’t made it out after all. If his father had caught her already, she’d not had time to warn her village. They’d all be in danger if his father was left unchecked.
So Nathaniel would have to check him.
His father shook his head dismissively. “Come. I’ll deal with your treachery later. We have things to discuss, and I don’t want you knocking anything over in here.”
“No.” The word slipped out before Nathaniel could catch it—but he didn’t want to. He couldn’t afford to let his father walk away from this room. He had to keep him here talking. He needed him to admit his sins, confess his crimes. He couldn’t let him commit more.
“What did you say?” his father snapped.
“No,” Nathaniel repeated himself, more loudly this time. “You can’t keep this from me. This place isn’t yours to keep.”
His father slammed his palms down on the desk, leaning over it. “Do not disobey me!”
Nathaniel’s instinct was to shrink away, to nod and take the blow he knew was coming, but somewhere inside him burned a small, Anna-shaped flame, urging him to fight back, urging him to stay strong. It was easy for her to stand against his father—she was on the outside looking in. Nathaniel had been inside for so long, never truly seeing, never allowing himself to react. But now he was on the outside, too. The Comm
issioner had treated Nathaniel’s mother with as much love as he showed Nathaniel. If one relationship was so clearly manipulative, why had it taken him so long to see his own with his father the same way?
“I’m not one of your officers.” Nathaniel clenched his fists. “I don’t take orders.”
The Commissioner ground his teeth. “I am your father. I am your commander. I am your law! I did not raise you to be this way.”
“You didn’t raise me at all.” Nathaniel’s fingernails sliced into his palms, but he could feel no pain, only anger. “You pushed me down. You brought me into a world that didn’t want me, and instead of fighting for me, you hid me away. You made my heart a secret when you should have made it legal!”
The Commissioner’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed Nathaniel by the collar. “How dare you! I broke the law for you. I summoned my greatest enemy—swallowing pride and principle—to save you. My love is what kept you alive, and this is how you repay me?”
“How regrettable that your love couldn’t do the same for my mother.” Nathaniel ground his teeth together, raising his eyes to meet his father’s. “Tell me, did you feel anything at all when she died?”
Nathaniel didn’t see the punch coming—only felt the impact. He would have staggered back if not for the Commissioner holding him. Pain spread out across his face, his nose almost certainly broken.
“Do not talk to me about things you don’t understand.”
Nathaniel squinted against the pain but still managed to speak. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You aren’t supposed to kill the ones you love.”
When the Commissioner’s second punch came, Nathaniel was ready for it, but that didn’t matter. His vision went splotchy as his head snapped back, and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was the Commissioner’s bulging, deep-set eyes.
Eliza watched Anna go, chest tight, grip tighter. The vial in her hand represented everything she’d worked for—a bright future, gilded and charmed at the side of the Queen. Deep down, she’d known it would come to this, one way or another. Anna and Nathaniel had been convenient allies, and had the Queen kept to the original plan, Eliza might have followed through on her promise to get Anna her justice and teach Nathaniel to be confident. She might have won her prize with them beside her.
Instead, she acted alone, with only her secrets by her side. But such was the way of a spy. Knowledge was power, not allies, and just as the Queen held more than Eliza, Eliza had held more than Anna and Nathaniel. She’d always planned to use it to her advantage. To pretend otherwise would be dishonest.
Still, she’d thought Anna would at least hesitate. She’d expected to see pain, to see heartbreak or at least the smallest sign of regret in those gray-blue eyes. But instead she’d seen only the fierce determination that drew her to Anna in the first place.
Eliza hadn’t hesitated, either. The Queen’s instructions were all that mattered, and a little flirtation couldn’t stand up to a lifetime of service—of loyalty. Love certainly hadn’t been enough three years ago when Marla had asked Eliza to run with her. Eliza thought it would be easier to let go than last time. Last time, Eliza had been younger, she’d loved deeper, and she’d lost more, all in service of the Queen—no, all in service of herself. Had she cared less about becoming the Queen’s Eyes … No, it did not bear rehashing. She’d chosen this life. She would make no room for regret.
So why did her breaths come in short bursts, her lungs too small for air? Eliza forced herself to breathe, just as she’d coached Anna earlier.
Holding tight to the vial in one hand and the wrinkled map in the other, Eliza slipped back through the halls. Her mission was over. All that was left was to tell the Queen she was coming home.
Home.
She’d return to the Tower, to the glamour, to the society. Once again, Eliza would be among lords and ladies of status. They were the company she deserved, and yet, she realized with a pang, not the company she wanted. She’d been gone less than a week, but somehow Earth Adjacent felt more familiar than all the halls in the Queen’s sky.
Eliza shook herself. It was foolish to think such things. Once she returned, she’d be greeted with the greatest reward of all. It would not matter where she lived or whose company she kept. The Queen would finally see her for what she was: the best.
Before Eliza could escape through the front doors, however, the Commissioner approached looking ruffled. Eliza had kept tabs on him for most of the night. He must have slipped out while she was speaking with the Queen.
Hurriedly shoving the vial and map into her pockets, Eliza straightened and plastered a smile to her face, ready to be the charming future daughter-in-law once more—for the last time—but the Commissioner didn’t stop to acknowledge her, charging into the ballroom, fists clenched, shoulders back.
Something was off. Eliza cast her gaze about for Nathaniel. Surely with Anna gone he’d be back by now. Had his father apprehended him?
Nathaniel wasn’t her responsibility anymore. She didn’t have time to dawdle at all, but something in the Commissioner’s tight features turned her feet toward the ballroom. Through the open double doors, she watched him cross the room straight through the dance floor and step onto the stage. The musicians’ waltz came to a screechy halt, and the Commissioner turned to face the now rapt audience.
“Apologies for interrupting your evening,” he began, his voice hard and direct. “I have an important announcement that simply cannot wait, and I believe you’ll all join me in agreement once you hear it.”
Eliza ought to use this distraction to escape, duck out while everyone’s eyes were on the Commissioner, but she couldn’t tear herself from the scene.
The Commissioner cleared his throat, an eerie smile spreading out across his face. “This evening, my officers informed me they apprehended and arrested the Technician. The criminal is in custody, awaiting the council’s judgment.”
The room burst into whispers and applause. The Commissioner bowed, his smile spreading as he continued to speak.
Eliza didn’t hear what came next, her ears ringing. The Technician. The Commissioner had caught her.
He’d caught Anna.
Eliza’s stomach turned once, and then it turned again, rolling and writhing as though someone had scrambled the gravity controls. She’d seen Anna only moments ago—off to save her village. Now she wouldn’t get the chance. Her village would be destroyed, and there was no one left to care. But Eliza cared.
She cared so much, she’d nearly missed the signs. It was in the way Anna’s drive pushed her own, the way getting justice for Anna had felt like getting justice for herself, and the way her whole being ached at the thought of Anna locked up and alone. She’d let her chance at love go once before, off into the stars, lost to worlds unknown. This was the same.
And it was different. Anna wasn’t gone—not yet, anyway—and Eliza could still choose to stay.
Eliza retreated, slipping out into the cool night air before anyone could stop her. In the low light from the windows, she smoothed out the map in her hand and traced the outline of the Settlement before finding the small star marked near the coast. This was what Anna cared about—her village, her people. She’d never forgive Eliza for rescuing her if she let Anna’s family die in the process. Anna didn’t need saving, her village did.
Eliza would do what Anna couldn’t behind bars, and she would hope when they reunited, it would be enough. Hearts were delicate things, and Eliza could not con her way back into Anna’s. She would have to earn it.
Eliza balled her fists and set off into the night, cursing herself for not correcting her path sooner. She should have seen she’d strayed too far long ago—she should have known when she’d let go of Marla, when she’d sacrificed self for status.
Really, she should have known the second Anna had come at her with that knife and Eliza had chosen not to kill her.
Eliza left the Settlement, sneaking up and over the wall with as much grace as she could. Cool w
ind wrapped her up like a chilly blanket and lifted her hat from her head along with the weight from her shoulders. Behind her was the life of some other girl, some other Eliza—a girl willing to sacrifice freedom for power.
When had Eliza decided the only way to be happy was to be powerful? When had she decided the only way to be powerful was to be merciless?
Setting the holocom down on the edge of the wall, Eliza stared into her own eyes reflected in the steel. The Queen thought she knew her, heart and soul, she thought she owned her. But even queens could be wrong, and even queens could be beaten.
Eliza could be happy, and she could be powerful.
She stepped forward, passing over the holocom, and over the edge. She would leave the Queen behind, she would not turn back, and she would choose to be free.
Eliza landed softly in the grassy field outside the Settlement, looking out on a dark abyss of trees. Finding Anna’s village would be harder in the dark, but she had the map to guide her. She’d found smaller things with less to go on before. But when Eliza reached the point on the map, there was nothing but a cliff and a vicious sea below. Wind whipped through her, sending shivers up her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself and crouched behind a massive rock, slim and pointed like a finger—a choice hand gesture for the moment, indeed.
As she leaned against it, however, Eliza saw the flash of metal in the moonlight. She bent lower, flattening herself against the muddy ground to see.
It was a handle, steel and sturdy, attached to the side of the cliff face. As she pushed herself out farther, she tried not to look down. It was a far drop to earth—one she wouldn’t survive if she toppled over the edge. Heights had never been a particular love of hers. Thank the stars it was too dark to see the bottom.
Eliza reached as far as she dared and her fingers connected with cold metal. The crank turned under her touch. Pushing and pulling, a platform rose up from the darkness, an elevator of sorts. She braced herself against the cliff’s edge, gathering her strength of will, and let herself drop.