Tandem

bringing her meals and cleaning up her room each day since she got to the farmhouse was standing in the doorway, eyeing her suspiciously. The woman had a Libertas patch sewn on to her ill-fitting black button-down shirt; Juliana guessed it must’ve belonged to a man before, possibly her husband, although she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to get into bed with this dumpy old woman.

The woman held up a bowl full of purple goop and a plastic poncho. “You’re ta have yur hair dyed,” she said sharply. She must’ve been from nearby; her Farnham Country accent betrayed her, with its clipped consonants and gutteral creaks. “Sit in the chair.”

“What? I’m not dying my hair, are you crazy?” Her hands flew to her head. She took great pride in her hair, which was a beautiful chestnut brown, thick and straight and glossy. There was no way she was going to let them touch it.

“Shepherd’s orders, ma’am,” the woman said. She pulled the chair out from beneath the desk and gestured to it. “Sit.”

The woman always called her “ma’am,” never “Your Highness,” something that hadn’t escaped Juliana’s attention. No one in Libertas felt any compulsion to show her deference. They didn’t believe in her, didn’t have any loyalty to the crown. She’d never met anyone who refused to defer to her because she was royalty, and she didn’t like feeling powerless.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, moving to the chair. It was worthless to fight them, she’d learned. They had her trapped in this house, and no one who worked here was even the slightest bit inclined to help her in any way. No matter what they asked, or how hard she resisted, in the end she always had to do as they told her. And now that she’d given them what they wanted, it was distinctly possible—even likely—that whatever they asked was part of their plan to fulfill their end of the bargain. The sooner the better as far as she was concerned. If she knew the General, he had the KES scouring the country for her, and the KES always found what it was looking for. Eventually they’d find out that she’d been smuggled into Farnham, and then they’d be on top of her. She didn’t want to give them the chance.

“ ’Cuz the Shepherd toll me to,” the woman said. She separated Juliana’s hair into several pieces before coating it with the goop.

“Ouch!” Juliana cried. The woman was not being gentle. “I mean, why do they need my hair dyed?”

“Got no idea. Maybe so’s it’s hard ter reconnize ya wur yur goin’.”

“And do you know where that is?” Juliana pressed.

“Course no,” the woman scoffed. “Ya think they lemme in on their secrets? I’m just a Second Tier. I follow orders. I dunno plans.”

I dunno plans, either, Juliana thought as the woman continued to tug at her hair. But someday. Someday I’ll have my own plans. And nobody has to know them but me. 

TWENTY-SEVEN

I sat in Juliana’s bedroom, a coverlet hanging around my shoulders. I was holding a mug of hot tea, but I couldn’t bring myself to choke it down. The royal physician—the real one, this time—had patched me up, promising there would be no scar, but my head ached where it had slammed against the terrace when the bomb blast knocked me over. I hadn’t mentioned the fact that I’d had another vision to anyone; I’d half hoped Dr. Moss would attend to my scratches instead of Dr. Rowland so that I could confide in someone, because Gloria had no idea about my connection with Juliana, and I wasn’t exactly speaking to Thomas. The vision had made something clear to me—they were getting ready to move Juliana. They had a plan, and they were starting to implement it. Soon, she might be so far away that there was no hope for getting her back again. The prospect chilled me straight to the hollows of my bones. If there was no chance that Juliana would return, did that mean I was doomed to stay trapped in her life forever?

“I’m okay,” I assured Gloria, who was rushing around trying to make me comfortable, barking orders at everyone. Shaken as I was, I didn’t want Gloria fussing over me; it was only making me more anxious.

“Gloria, calm down,” Thomas said. “She’s all right.”

“She’s all right? She’s all right? And how the hell do you know that?” Gloria demanded.

“Because she just said so.” I hid my face in the mug of tea, breathing in its strong, jasmine scent. Thomas was riling Gloria up in the hopes that her anger would distract her from her fear; it appeared to be working.

“Haven’t you ever heard of shock?”

“She’s not in shock. You screaming at everybody within a fifty-mile radius might change that, though.”

“You.” Gloria pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You did this. You brought her here, you put her in danger. This is your fault!”

Thomas said nothing. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t raise mine to meet them. I didn’t want to look at him. Every time I did I heard his voice in my head, his accusations and his insults, and I got angry all over again.

“You KES won’t rest until we’re all dead in the ground, will you?” Gloria said, her voice taut. “Frank, Bedford, Sasha … you don’t care who gets hurt as long as you get what you want.”

“I’m sorry about Frank,” Thomas told her. From his tone, I could tell he meant it, but I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Who was Frank?

Gloria worried her engagement ring between her fingers. She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

“He was a good agent,” Thomas continued.

“I know he was!” she seethed.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Who’s Frank?”

Gloria ignored the question, and Thomas chose not to answer it in deference to her. “Your fiance?” I guessed, noting the way Gloria continued to play with her engagement ring.

Gloria drew in a deep breath. “Frank was KES. He was with the king the day he was shot.”

“Did he … ?” I couldn’t bring myself to complete the question.

“No. But a bullet tore through his spinal cord. He’ll never walk again.” Gloria closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again they were wet with tears.

“Oh, Gloria.” I stood, shrugging off the blanket and putting my arms around her. Gloria leaned into the hug, patting my back softly and then stepping back. When I looked at her face, the grief was gone, a mask of professionalism in its place. What was it about the people in the Citadel that made them so adept at doing that?

“So,” Gloria said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “The question is, how do we move forward?”

“What do you mean?” I wondered.

“Clearly you’re not safe here,” Gloria said. Thomas nodded in agreement. “We need to remove you from the Castle for the time being, put you somewhere that nobody can get to you.”

“Like where?”

“The royal family owns several estates up and down the East Coast. Any one of them is safer than the Castle right now, it seems, but we can’t take you too far away, with the wedding set for Saturday.”

“That’s still happening?” Surely with the Libertas threat so high they would rethink the circus wedding in favor of something more private. The treaty didn’t need a huge, expensive ceremony to be ratified, only that Callum and Juliana be officially married. Or so I’d gathered.

“It’s all planned,” Gloria said. “The queen won’t be moved. She refuses to be intimidated into canceling.”

“Right now the plan is to take you and Callum away from the Castle until Friday evening for the gala. The queen will stay here to maintain some semblance of strength and defiance,” Thomas said. “We leave tomorrow morning, so, Gloria, you should help Sasha pack.”

“You’re going too?” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. I’d been doing such a good job of ignoring him, and I was angry with myself for abandoning the silent treatment so soon.