Tandem

those things. The starkness of the charcoal rendering gave the image a sinister quality, which was perhaps what Callum, until very recently an enemy of the Commonwealth, had intended.

“You’re a really good artist,” I told him. “Where did you learn to draw like that?”

“You can learn to do anything well with a lot of free time. I might not have any friends, but I do have a bunch of useless talents.”

“They’re not useless,” I argued. “They’re impressive.”

“Not really.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Do you want to know why I’m sketching this window?”

“Because it’s beautiful?”

“No. It’s because windows are all I draw.” He looked away, embarrassed by the admission, though I couldn’t quite see why. “Windows, and doors. See?” He flipped through the notebook, showing page after page of different kinds of windows and doors. Some of them were from the Castle, sketches he’d made in the short time since his arrival, and then further back, to renderings of portals and entryways I’d never seen before. They were intricate and flawless, masterfully shaded to reflect a certain time of day or amount of lighting in the room. I was enamored of his gift, even if his chosen subject was unorthodox.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just like the way they look.” His hand rested on the page, and I moved it to see what he was trying to hide. The drawing was very plain, just a steel doorframe. The strangest thing about it was that the space outside the frame was shaded, but the inside of the frame was blank, the cream color of the paper. The door was emitting a faint glow.

“Where did you see this one?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere. At least, I don’t think so. Sometimes I just make them up.”

“What is it, then?” Something about the door bothered me. It gave me the same creepy feeling as the dark, colorless Seal, like it was something I should be afraid of.

“I have no idea,” he said. “I try not to question it.”

“Well, I’m still impressed.” I smiled. “Even if you do only draw windows.”

“And doors—don’t forget doors.”

The crunch of gravel beneath a delicate stiletto heel attracted our attention. Gloria was approaching.

“The concert,” Callum muttered, staring at the ground. I was beginning to suspect he didn’t like crowds. This didn’t surprise me much; he’d been raised in near-solitude, always shielded from the noise and activity of the common people. Public places were bound to make him uncomfortable.

“Your Highnesses, I’m so sorry, but I have to interrupt. Juliana, you need to get ready for the concert, and your valet is waiting for you upstairs, Prince Callum.” Gloria eyed us both sternly, as if she was a teacher and we were pupils who had forgotten our homework. “I must insist that you head back inside.”

“We’re right behind you,” I told her. As I rose from the bench, Callum ripped the sketch of the mysterious doorway out of his notebook.

“Here,” he said, thrusting it into my hand. “That’s for you.”

“Oh, Callum, I—” It would have been rude to refuse it, but all the same, I didn’t want it. The longer I looked at it, the more unnerving it was.

“I was thinking of you when I drew it,” he confessed. “I was thinking about leaving home, and meeting you, and our future, and I … It’s an allegory. Don’t you see? A doorway into the unknown.”

Well, that explains it, I thought. Of course I found the drawing unsettling—that door, with its unseen destination, was exactly what I saw when I pictured my own future.

I smiled down at him, knowing what he needed to hear. “I’m looking forward to finding out what’s behind that door.”

“Me too,” he said, with a sincerity that broke my heart. “Me too.”

 

THOMAS IN THE RAMBLES

“This whole thing is a goddamn security nightmare,” Agent Bedford griped, coming up to join Thomas on the stage, behind the backdrop. “I hate open-air events.” He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “What’s up with you, Mayhew? What’re you looking at?”

“Just confirming a position on the Sparrow,” he said. He could see Sasha on the enormous North Terrace, surrounded by the guests who’d come for the concert, with Callum at her side. He watched the Farnham prince put a hand on her shoulder and whisper in her ear. She nodded and turned to smile at Callum, her lips coming close to brushing against his cheek. Thomas couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She wore an elaborate headpiece of delicate chains studded with silver thorns that wound their way over the crown of her head, into her plaited hair, and around her neck. It reminded him of her captivity, but she still looked resplendent in it. Sasha and Callum had made their first public appearance together on the Grand Balcony an hour earlier, to the wild cheers of thousands of onlookers and well-wishers. Not everyone in the UCC was enamored of the royal family, but there were plenty who still believed in the power and dignity of the monarchy, and they were overjoyed to see the beautiful couple. And they did look perfect together; even Thomas couldn’t deny that.

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to dispel the pangs of guilt and longing that sprung up in him every time he saw Sasha, but he was only moderately successful. You’re a KES agent, he scolded himself. Act like it. All this emotional turmoil was unbecoming of his position, but he couldn’t quite banish it. He wasn’t just a name and rank; he was a person, too, and it was no longer possible for him to behave like he wasn’t.

Since his argument with Sasha a few hours before, all he could think about was her and Juliana and Lucas. He was consumed by confusion and questions and anger, which he’d unfairly taken out on Sasha. She was only trying to help, even if she was wrong. There was no way that what she’d said to him could be true. It was impossible. He knew his brother, and while Lucas had certainly been acting strangely the past few months, Thomas was sure it was because he was attempting to regain their father’s favor, to rise up in the KES the way Thomas had. Otherwise, why would the General have consented to allow Lucas to take the KES Trials this fall? Such a thing almost never happened. There was one way into active KES service and that was through the KES Academy, from which Lucas had been rejected three times—the maximum amount—before giving up. According to KES rules he was ineligible to apply again. That was why he was being so diffident and mysterious; he thought Thomas would resent him for trying to better his situation.

And Juliana—well, it wasn’t even worth considering Sasha’s claims about her. Perhaps it had been hasty of him to imply that Sasha had developed a romantic attachment to him, that she was jealous, but it was the only conclusion he could reasonably come to. Sasha didn’t know Juliana; he did. He knew her better than probably anyone else alive. She’d confided in him. She trusted him with her life. If she’d wanted out, she would’ve come to him. At least, he thought she would. But even if she had, what would he have said to her? What would he have done?

Still, he felt terrible about how he’d treated Sasha. She hadn’t asked for her visions, and she definitely hadn’t asked to be brought to Aurora to fill in for Juliana. He had done that to her. And it had been clear from the tentative way she’d broken her news to him this evening that she was trying to shield him from the awful truths she thought she possessed. In return he’d accused her, insulted her, hurt her deeply. He’d seen it all on her face, but he’d kept going, because he was afraid. He wasn’t used to feeling that way. He’d been surprised by it and hadn’t had time to recalibrate, to push it down and deny its hold over him. Sasha would never trust him again. He’d ruined everything that was forming between them, and it was too late to do anything about it.

After leaving Sasha close to tears in the library, Thomas had returned to KES command central, where Captain Fawley, his superior when he was on Protective Service detail, was asking for volunteers to beef up security at the concert.

“I’ll do it,” Thomas had said, so eager he practically tripped over the words.

“You sure?” Fawley had asked. “Thought you might want to stick close to the Sparrow.”