by Rosiee Thor
Eliza beckoned Anna inside. “As well as can be expected. I’ve killed before, of course, but I imagine the Queen will haunt me for a long time to come.”
Anna nodded, taking a hesitant step into the room. “It’s hard to lose the ones we love.”
“Yes, of course. You’re right.” She shook her head as though to clear it, returning to Anna with a smile too bright for the occasion. “I’ll be all right.”
“What about your chest? Are you in pain?” It was easier to be the doctor checking on her patient than the nervous girl with confusing feelings she carried inside her skin.
“I was stabbed, you know.”
Anna cracked a grin. “I do know. I saw it happen.”
“Nathaniel stopped by earlier. He said you patched me up?” Eliza’s fingers brushed against her chest, wincing at her own touch.
“Let me have a look—make sure it’s healing all right.” Anna pulled a chair across the room as Eliza disrobed and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Well? What’s the verdict? Will I have a scar?”
“Probably.” Anna reached for Eliza’s shoulder, removing the bandage so she could see the wound properly. “But don’t worry—I like scars.”
“Do you, now?” Eliza’s lips quirked into a sly smile.
Anna blushed. It had been only days since they’d first met. How Anna’s opinion of her had changed in that time. The pretentious noble, too good for Anna—too good for anyone—was gone. In her place was the girl who’d fought a queen to save Anna, who’d fought herself to save Anna.
Dropping her hands, she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. Eliza was just another patient. Touching her was nothing to be nervous about.
“I didn’t realize you were a surgeon, too. I thought with a name like the Technician you’d be more involved with tech.” Eliza leaned back against her pillows.
Anna held back a denial. She was so used to saying she wasn’t a surgeon, but it wasn’t exactly true anymore. The word had embodied an entire identity she couldn’t claim, an identity that belonged to Thatcher and Thatcher alone. But now it seemed less of a burden. Surgeon was no longer a commitment she had to make but a role she could choose to play—or not.
Anna opened her satchel. “Let me get you a fresh bandage.”
“Thank you,” Eliza said.
Anna’s breath caught, acutely aware of Eliza’s eyes on her as she applied the bandage with slow, deliberate hands. If she didn’t focus, there was no telling what she’d do with them. She wanted to place her palm on Eliza’s shoulder, or maybe tug one of the curls around Eliza’s face to see if it bounced.
Eliza seemed to follow the same train of thought, placing her hand over Anna’s and holding it against her skin. “You don’t understand—thank you. You saved my life.”
“And you saved mine.”
Eliza gripped Anna’s hand tighter and caught her gaze. “You touched my heart.”
“Actually, the knife missed your heart and punctured your lung instead.”
Eliza placed a finger beneath Anna’s chin. “You touched my heart, Anna Thatcher, long before you touched my skin.”
For a breathless moment, Anna considered fleeing from the room and from their future. She ignored her instinct to run and let her lips meet Eliza’s.
It was like falling in a dream, with a rush of adrenaline and air, waiting for the single moment of thrilling terror before she’d wake, head against the pillows. Only, Anna never wanted to wake. She wanted to drown in the dream of Eliza’s lips, always falling, never landing.
When Eliza finally pulled away, one hand in Anna’s hair, the other low on Anna’s back, she wore a loose smile and a mischievous sparkle in her eye.
“Nathaniel’s asked to break off our engagement.”
“Is that so?” Anna fiddled with the collar of Eliza’s robe, the silk smooth against her fingers. Why were they talking now when they could be kissing?
Eliza plucked Anna’s fingers from her collar like they were flowers in a garden, examining them with her own. “Nathaniel deserves to be free to make his own choices, and I deserve my chance at love.”
Anna found it suddenly difficult to breathe. How could her hands be so steady holding a scalpel but so shaky now?
Eliza slid her hand around to Anna’s waist, gripping the cloth of her shirt and sending a ripple up Anna’s spine.
“So,” Eliza said with smile as warm as a summer afternoon, “how are my chances?”
Anna could have done the math, but instead she answered with another kiss.
It began with the earth. Eliza knelt, elbow deep in the freshly turned dirt, brown and soft and cold to the touch. If anyone saw her in this state, it would be very grave indeed.
To think, a war had been waged over this planet, blades drawn behind a curtain of secrecy, a veil of whispers, yet neither side had truly won. Both commanders lay dead and buried, a mountain of crimes the only blanket for their final rest. They’d wanted Earth Adjacent, the ground beneath Eliza’s knees, the dewdrops seeping into the rich fabric of her dress, and so they’d have it.
So many people had fought for the planet. The Queen and the Commissioner had died for it.
In a way Eliza didn’t yet understand, she herself had killed for it.
They’d clashed over an entire world, a future for humanity. Eliza ought to have been humbled by the enormity of it all, but a part of her still battled even though the war was over.
From the folds of her skirt, Eliza withdrew the long silver blade, pressing the dirt on her hands against the hilt. There’d been a time when polishing the metal until she could see her reflection had been the one true joy in her life. Now she let her eyes drift, sending the world out of focus, unable to bear the thought of her round face forming a perfect iris for the eye on the pommel.
This dagger had been her war, not the planet. Eliza had never cared if humanity descended from the Tower in her lifetime. In fact, she’d always found more solace among the stars, as if they could somehow see her better than all the eyes in the world. No, for Eliza, everything began with the blade.
It had taken the Queen’s face, her skin, her eyes, her life.
It had winked in starlight, calling Eliza like a siren, making her want with everything she had, compelling her to give up a love she could barely recall.
It had become her, twisting metal through her veins and around her heart until Eliza was no longer herself, until Eliza was but a distant memory.
The Queen had given her a home and a job and a knife, and Eliza had stripped herself of the past, tearing herself like cloth, spinning herself like thread, sewing herself back up in a patchwork imitation of a girl.
She was the smoke, not the fire; the footprint, not the leg; the wound, not the weapon.
She was adjacent.
Just like the world.
But somewhere in the depths of Eliza’s hollow heart, she’d hidden herself away, the girl she’d been before she became the Queen’s Eyes, the girl who’d belonged only to herself—the girl who’d lived without the weight of the Queen’s ambition.
It began with the earth, and it could end there, too.
Eliza lowered the blade into the Queen’s grave. She’d no need of eyes except her own.
Nathaniel sat in his father’s chair, at his father’s desk, but he’d never felt less like the Commissioner. He’d explained the situation to the council, told them about Mechan and the cure, but even after disclosing every detail, they’d miraculously agreed he should succeed his father. He was only an eighteen-year-old boy who possessed little experience with governing and certainly no endorsement from his father, but he had a plan, and the council seemed to respond to it.
He’d work with transparency instead of secrecy, with compassion instead of control. He’d never be the man his father wanted him to be. Nathaniel had only wanted his father’s approval, but Oliver Fremont was dead, and it was time to start wanting more.
Nathaniel wanted to abolish the Tech Decrees. He
wanted to open the Settlement’s gates. He wanted more open communication and discussion in creating new laws. But first, he wanted peace with Mechan.
Anna’s grandfather was as different from the fiery Technician as could be. He was tempered where she was rash, collected where she was dramatic. He’d already given Nathaniel valuable counsel, and Nathaniel hoped he’d agree to more.
“What can I do for you, Commissioner-elect?” Thatcher asked upon entering the office.
Nathaniel gestured for him to join him at the desk, acutely aware of the violence that had occurred there only days ago. At first, he’d thought to close the office off and start fresh, but the past couldn’t be forgotten, only covered up. It would be a disservice to them all not to acknowledge it, remember it, and promise to do better.
“I’m glad you could join me,” Nathaniel said.
“This house still holds unpleasant memories for me; I’m afraid it has me a bit on edge.” Thatcher eyed the corners of the room as if he were checking for unobserved guards.
Nathaniel nodded. “This government and my father treated you and your family in an inexcusable manner. I cannot apologize enough for what you’ve been put through in the name of the law.”
“Apologies are ineffective.”
“I know—nothing can make up for what he did.”
Thatcher shook his head. “No—I mean apologies are something you give to make yourself feel better. Rarely do they come from a selfless place. It’s best to skip them entirely and get on with it.”
“Right.” Nathaniel suppressed a smile, remembering how Anna had lectured him about forgiveness. Perhaps the Technician and her grandfather were not so different after all. “Well, onward. I find myself in need of excellent counsel. I want better counsel than my father had, different counsel. The advisors I have can tell me everything I need to know about law and policy, but I don’t need more of that. What I need is someone who can help me understand what the people need, what your people need. I want to do a better job for everyone on Earth Adjacent.”
Thatcher frowned. “That’s all well and good, but the Settlement isn’t home to a lot of us anymore. You can be as inclusive as you like, but you’ll be hard-pressed to convince most of us to come back.”
“Who said anything about the Settlement?” Nathaniel tried to hide his smile. “My first act as Commissioner-elect will be to officially recognize Mechan as its own city.”
“The people of Mechan won’t bow to you, TICCER or no.”
The Thatcher before him was different from the one he’d met in his father’s prison. That man had been defeated yet hopeful. He’d been willing to give up everything for his granddaughter, willing to help Nathaniel save her. Now he was terse and defensive—and perhaps rightly so.
“You didn’t let me finish.” Nathaniel pushed a document forward, spelling out the details of his proposal. “This document, once I sign it, gives Mechan governing power. I don’t want to rule over the people of Mechan; I want to work with them.”
Thatcher made a noncommittal sound as he scanned the paper. “Mechan doesn’t have a governing body.”
“And that’s up to Mechan. I don’t want to enforce unwanted restrictions. But I do want a relationship. I want to work with Mechan’s people to amend my father’s laws and to produce more of the vaccine. Anna mentioned you might have an alchemist or two who could assist with deciphering my mother’s notes.”
“I can’t speak for Mechan, but I’ll ask Ruby to help with the vaccine.” His finger traced the line at the bottom of the document. “There are two lines here.”
“Ah, yes.” Nathaniel picked up a pen and handed it to Thatcher, his hand shaking. “Part of the agreement is cooperation from Mechan on one point.”
Thatcher didn’t take the pen. “And what is that?”
“I’d like to be kept informed and advised by a member of your town. I’d like a representative from Mechan to join my council.” He pushed the words out in a single stream.
Thatcher laughed.
“What?” Nathaniel asked, taken aback.
“If you think you need my permission to ask Anna anything, then you don’t know her at all.” Thatcher pushed the document back toward Nathaniel.
“No, I don’t mean her.” He swallowed. It felt bizarre justifying his decision to her grandfather of all people, but he plowed on. “She’s like me more than a little, and I need someone with more experience.”
“Ah, you mean someone older.”
“I’m young, it’s true. I know that many will see me as too inexperienced to run the Settlement, but I think with the right advisors, I can do a good job—a great job. I want you to be one of those advisors.”
Thatcher eyed him warily. “And how do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain? You’ll stay out of Mechan’s business, you say, but you have more military power, more governing power. We’re just a small village.”
Nathaniel bowed his head. “I know it isn’t easy to trust, when all the Settlement’s ever done is cause you pain, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few days, it’s that trust is essential. Anna and I—if we hadn’t trusted each other, none of this could have worked.” He paused, his hand on his heart. “Even if you can’t trust me or the Settlement, know that I trust you. You helped me once when I was only an infant, and again when I thought I couldn’t be helped. I ask you to find that same compassion now.”
Thatcher grunted. “I’ll consider it. Have to ask the rest of Mechan first, anyway.” He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
“Thank you.” Nathaniel let out a long breath, not caring that his relief showed in every inch of his face.
Thatcher wheeled his chair toward the door, but paused at the threshold. “Be better than him.”
“I will.” Nathaniel hoped with every essence of his being that it was the truth.
Dusk had fallen by the time Nathaniel had a free moment, and there was only one person he wanted to talk to. She wouldn’t answer back, but that was okay.
It had been a long time since Nathaniel had ventured out to the cemetery to visit his mother’s grave. His father’s world had excluded her, and so, too, had Nathaniel. How much of that was his own doing, he’d never truly know, but he was tired of blaming his father for everything.
It was there that Anna found him. “She’d be proud of you, I think,” she said from the tree line.
Nathaniel glanced up to see her leaning against a pine, framed by the tree’s branches. “She can’t be proud of anything. She’s dead.”
“You can still try to do right by her.” Anna crossed over to stand beside him. “She doesn’t have to know what you’ve done in order for it to matter.”
Nathaniel nodded slowly, his tongue dry in his mouth. It felt too late for tears, like he should have shed them years ago, and now they wouldn’t count. He’d seen Eliza on his way there, staring down the freshly turned earth over the Queen’s body. She hadn’t cried, either; only buried her eye-tipped dagger and walked away.
“Do you think the Queen really hated my mother—and my father—so much?”
“I don’t know,” Anna replied. “I doubt we’ll ever know for sure. There are two sides to every story.”
Just like with theirs. Anna was the girl who’d brought so much destruction into his home, but she was also the girl who helped him see the wrongness around him. She helped him find his legs and stand up for himself. Nathaniel’s breath hitched in his chest. Who was he in her eyes?
Anna continued, “Sometimes it isn’t the sides that count; it’s where they intersect.” She swayed back and forth with the breeze. “I think somewhere, deep down, both of your parents—and maybe even the Queen—would be proud of what you’ve become.”
Nathaniel grimaced. “And what is that? I don’t even know who I am.”
“That’s all right.” Anna laughed. “None of us do.”
“Who am I?”
“You’re you.”
“What is that suppos
ed to mean?” Anger peppered his voice. “I’ve never been anything other than young Master Fremont, the Commissioner’s son. Can I really be anything else?”
Anna nodded in understanding. “You aren’t the same anymore. You’re not the scared boy who defended his father’s ideas, who let me and Eliza sway him to our plans. You’re a leader now.”
“I didn’t want this,” he whispered. “How did this happen?”
“It didn’t just happen. I know you’ve always had power handed to you, but that isn’t how it usually works. Power’s something you have to take. And you did.”
Her words dug under his skin. “I’m still me, right?”
Anna cracked a smile. “I don’t think that means much to either of us.”
Nathaniel looked up from the grave to stare at her. She looked the same as always, freckles like secrets dotted across her skin, jaw jutted forward in a defiant overbite, and hair pulled tight with rebellious curls escaping from her braid—but her eyes weren’t narrowed anymore.
She’d changed, too.
“How did everything go so wrong?” he whispered.
“Did it? I rather think everything went right. You’re a leader now.”
“I don’t feel like one.” Nathaniel felt like a child—made smaller by the shoes he had to fill. Even with his father removed from office, even with him dead, Nathaniel shrank beneath the weight of the title.
Anna cocked her head. “It isn’t how you feel that makes you a leader; it’s what you do.”
It was like they were back in the abandoned building where she’d first told him about his TICCER, about how her world and his clashed. She seemed to know just what to say, even if it pained him to hear it.
“I want you with me,” he said without thinking, letting the truth govern his words rather than logic. She and Eliza had stood by him while they took the Commissioner down notch by notch, unraveling his claim to power. He hadn’t acted alone, and he hoped he never would again. “I want you with me on my side. Working with you to”—he gestured aimlessly around—“achieve all this, that’s the most alive I’ve ever felt. I want to keep feeling that way.”