city still technically fell within their jurisdiction; everything in the Commonwealth was under KES jurisdiction.
But as much as the idea of getting into it with Libertas appealed to him, that wasn’t why Thomas was in the Tattered City. No one save Fillmore could know that he was there, not even the undercover KES agents on assignment in the area, and especially not Libertas; if they caught the faintest whiff of the General’s plan, they would certainly attempt to intervene, and he and Fillmore—and, worse, Sasha—could die as a result. Once he managed to get Sasha past the boundaries and on her way to Columbia City, everything would be much easier, but the next twelve hours would be tricky. He had to make sure nobody saw her. That was the most important thing.
“I want to speak to the Monad,” she insisted. She’d lost count of the times she’d made this demand, but this was the first time she was making it of him. She hadn’t seen him since the night he brought her to the Libertas bunker, but he had appeared today, sudden as a summer storm, without warning or explanation. “You promised.”
“The Monad is a busy man,” he told her. “He’ll see you when he’s ready, Juli.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “You’ll address me as Your Highness, or Princess Juliana. Nothing else.”
“The truth is, Juli,” he said. “The Monad isn’t sure you have anything to tell us.”
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t. And anyway,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady, though she was visibly shaking, “I’m not the one with something to prove. You told me that if I gave the Monad all the information I had about the General’s plans, they’d help me get away for good. But all they’ve done is lock me up in this room. They won’t let me talk to anyone.”
“You’re talking to me,” he pointed out.
“Not by choice.”
“These things take time,” he told her. “You have to be patient. This isn’t a game.”
“Well, how much more time is it going to take?” she asked. Her voice quaked with desperation, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want him to know that she was afraid. And she couldn’t help wondering what was happening outside these walls, what black fate was befalling her country in her absence. What would they do without their princess? But perhaps they were better off without her. She’d never been a very good princess anyway.
“Soon,” he said, his voice eerily soft, like he was trying to calm a frightened child. But all he’d succeeded in doing was agitating her further. “Soon. I promise.”
In the beginning, all I knew was darkness. Darkness, and silence. There was no pain, and then, in an instant, I felt it, a deep, dull ache in every muscle and bone and joint. I couldn’t move, but if it was due to the pain or something else entirely I didn’t know. Panic coursed through my veins, but I couldn’t even open my eyes, and I feared beyond all reason that I was dead. But the dead don’t hurt, do they?
Gradually, I started to hear things. Just muffled voices at first, as if I was listening through a door, but the voices started getting clearer and I could make out words. “Is she dead?” someone asked. Clearly I wasn’t the only one wondering.
“She’s not dead,” Grant said. “Do you think we would’ve brought her all this way if we thought it would kill her?”
At first I was so happy to hear his voice—low, strong, familiar—that his words didn’t even register. Grant’s here, I thought with relief. I’m safe. But then what he’d said sank in, and questions started to form in my mind, wriggling through layers of semiconsciousness like worms. Who was he talking to? What had happened? Where was I? What did he mean by saying that “we” had brought me here? Who were “we”?
Who—what—where—why—frantic questions, bewildered questions, clanking together like glass bottles, slamming into each other like bumper cars, tangling like Christmas lights in my frozen, frightened mind. Grant, I thought, willing my lips to form his name, but they wouldn’t, they couldn’t.
Help me.
Grant spoke again. “It was her first time through the tandem. It knocks the hell out of you. We just have to keep her comfortable and warm until she comes around.”
Feeling was starting to return to my limbs. I tried to move, but I only managed to wiggle a finger, and even then just an inch. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. A frustrated scream ripped through my head, but there was no forcing it out of my throat. The fear was so potent I could taste it, a dark, metallic tang on the back of my tongue.
“Your timing couldn’t be worse,” said someone other than Grant. It was a man, and something about his voice—scratchy and deep—told me he was older than Grant by years, possibly decades. “The Libertas rally is starting soon and the streets will be crawling with patrols. If they see her you can bet they won’t rest until they have you both in custody.”
“I know that,” Grant said. He didn’t even sound like the Grant I knew. It was him all right, but his tone was different, somehow. Harder. Sharper. It wasn’t the voice of the boy who’d looked out at Lake Michigan and said, Sometimes I forget how big everything is. But it was his voice, all the same.
“They won’t know what she is,” the man continued. “But they’ll see she’s trouble.”
Trouble? How could anyone possibly think that I of all people was trouble? This had to be some kind of awful mistake, it just had to be. That was the only explanation. But this was Grant. We’d gone to school together forever—he knew me, and if the events of the last couple of days were any indication, he cared about me. Why was he talking about me as if I was a stranger?
Unless … The thought struck me like a mallet to the chest. Unless I’d been wrong about Grant all along.
No. That was unthinkable. I was a good judge of character; there was no way I wouldn’t have seen deceit in his eyes. He’d been sincere. He’d carried my bag and danced with me and stood with his arm around me under a blanket of stars. Could it really all have been fake? Just a lie to get what he wanted?
And if so, what did he want?
“Everything’s proceeding according to plan,” Grant said. What plan? I wanted to shout. What do you want from me? I could do nothing but lie there like a corpse and wait. The waiting was excruciating; every second felt like a year, each pause between breaths like an eternity. But I was growing stronger. I could feel everything now, and I suspected that, if I tried, I might be able to open my eyes. But not yet. I needed the right moment. They didn’t know I could hear them; if they had known, they wouldn’t have been talking so freely. Maybe, if I stayed still a bit longer, I could learn something. Maybe then I would know what I was up against. Maybe then I could begin formulating my own plan.
“You should wait until nightfall.”
“No,” Grant said with authority. “I can’t spare the time. They’re not going to believe that story about the princess being up at St. Lawrence for much longer. It’s been almost two weeks. The queen is starting to ask questions, not to mention the media. She’s blown off three interviews with Eloise Dash. Gloria’s beside herself, and the General is getting impatient.”
What the hell was Grant talking about? It was dreamlike in its absurdity; I couldn’t make sense of any of it. My head began to pound; the pain made it harder to think, like the signal was being scrambled. How was I going to get out of there if I couldn’t even think?
