“I suppose you prefer taking control of the country through a military coup, Citizen Helo?” she snapped.
Justen squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. “No. That’s not what I meant.”
And Persis had not meant to turn to such a serious topic. That wasn’t how the flaky, shallow girl she pretended to be would act if she had brought a handsome young man down to the star cove. Even one she was just pretending to like for Isla’s sake. She mustn’t forget herself, no matter how many stars sparked against her skin, no matter what Justen had done today for the people the Poppy had rescued. This was a mission—same as any other. She was used to the role of Persis Flake. She needed to remember that the role of starry-eyed admirer of Justen Helo was just as false.
“I had wanted the queen removed from office,” he said quietly, returning to the ledge. “She was cruel to her subjects and unfair to the regs. Personally, I’d already argued with her more than a year ago about access to my grandmother’s research. She . . . patronized me. Acted like I was a child playing scientist instead of a student doing legitimate research. It was right of the people of Galatea to seek to remove her from power. I will not deny that. But—everything else. It wasn’t motivated by justice. It was something much darker.”
“Revenge,” Persis whispered, though she wasn’t sure if he heard. Revenge for all the cruelty and the dismissals and the wrongs done to an entire people.
“I wasn’t there when the queen was sentenced,” Justen said. “But I was there the night she died. I saw . . . what happened afterward.”
He was weighing his words carefully, Persis noted. And with good reason, for “what happened afterward” was that a mob had formed, and they’d taken their desire for revenge into their own hands, stealing the queen’s body and tossing it into her private cove to be devoured by her own mini-orcas.
He shook his head. “It got out of hand. All of it. No one deserves the punishment of Reduction. No one deserves to have their body desecrated as the queen’s was. This is not the world we’ve fought to create here on New Pacifica. This isn’t the life Persistence Helo wanted the regs to have.”
Persis ducked her head beneath the warm water then, as the only other option would have been to throw herself on him and kiss him again. Justen Helo was handsome and smart and was trying to be the hero his famous name required, but she had a job to do, too. He wouldn’t ever kiss her by choice. He didn’t even know who she was.
When she surfaced, he continued. “I thought, perhaps, it was all a terrible mistake. I didn’t think it would continue. I’ve been proved wrong again and again these last six months, but I never thought it would get as bad as what I saw in the sanitarium yesterday.” He ran his hands across his short, prickly hair, starlight flowing from his fingers and down his arms in streams.
Persis nodded. It’s what everyone thought. And everyone had been wrong. That’s why the Poppy had been born.
“I don’t know how we’ll ever recover from this. I don’t know how to make it better.”
She glided to his side on the bench. “There is only one way to recover from the evil humanity does to itself: overcome it. It’s like my mother said at dinner the other night. We can only be responsible for what we ourselves do. Bad things happen in this world, and we are judged on how we respond. Do we take part in evil, or do we fight against it with all we have?”
Justen made no response to that at all.
Emboldened by the darkness, Persis continued. “Bad things have happened everywhere, even at my beloved Scintillans. My ancestors kept Reduced as slaves. My ancestors
“Oh, and they want to be servants and fishermen?” Justen asked, skeptical.
“Not all of them, and not all of them are,” she replied. “Look at Tero. He’s a gengineer, though his father is our butler, Fredan.” She shrugged. “Regs like Tero have more choice than I do about what course they want to take in life.”
Justen’s eyes were so wide, Persis could make them out by starlight. “Andrine and Tero’s father is your butler? Andrine’s a friend of the princess and the daughter of a servant?”
For once, Persis did not have to pretend to be clueless. She was honestly baffled. “Who’s the snob now, Justen Helo? Your grandmother was the daughter of Reduced slaves, and she invented the cure.”
“Yes, and fought almost every aristo on her island to do so.” Justen shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to such things being encouraged by aristos.”
“And I’m not used to men telling me I should lead my estate like an equal.” Well, except her father. “Perhaps if more men took that approach with me, I wouldn’t be available to help you and Isla with your little romantic subterfuge.”
And that, Persis decided, was as honest as she could risk being with Justen Helo. She cast him a furtive glance, but if he was at all affected by her words, he didn’t show it. And why should he? If there was anything she understood about the revolutionary she’d invited into her home, it was that he was impervious to Persis’s infamous charm. He was too smart to be seduced by her stupidity, too industrious to be impressed by her idleness.
She wondered if he’d feel differently about the girl who was the Wild Poppy. Then again, he didn’t even know the Wild Poppy was a girl. Everyone, from this equality-minded Galatean to the most sexist aristo in Albion, thought the spy was a man.
“What would you be doing right now, if you weren’t helping Isla and me?” Justen asked her, rousing her from her thoughts.
What an apt question. Persis smiled. Planning more raids to his homeland, mostly.
“I mean, would you be looking for a real husband?”
Her mouth snapped shut. Oh, of course. Because the Persis she’d presented to him could do nothing more useful than find a husband.
He pressed on. “Did you have anyone in mind? Have you broken any hearts at court?”
She laughed aloud as an image of her confessing the truth to an incredulous Justen reared up in her head. She could tell him right now what she really did with her time, and he’d never believe her. Not a girl in a bikini in the star cove. Not the spoiled, stupid aristo she’d convinced him she was. Persis tossed a lock of wet hair behind her shoulder. “I’ve broken a dozen hearts this week. Don’t you know? I’m Persis Blake.”
He chuckled softly. “Fair enough. You know, we made a list of why I might have fallen for you, but we didn’t figure out what it is you see in me.”
“You’re Justen Helo. A man with a famous name. Wherever you go, people are impressed. That’s enough.”
“So that’s what you look for in a man?” Justen asked. “Fame?”
Sure. Fame would do for Persis Flake. “You’re easy on the eyes, too.”
“I’m not as beautiful as you.”
“Another bonus, as far as I’m concerned,” she replied, letting the compliment roll off her like so much star- studded water. She waved her hand at him. “Your fashion sense we can fix.”
“That can’t be all you care about, especially if you’re giving him your home. Especially if . . .” He trailed off.
Especially if she was going to Darken. Well, there was an argument for getting tested. If she had a reg brain, she would Darken like her mother, which meant she had a vastly compressed timeline to get married and start a family. That was, if any aristo would risk reproducing with someone, even an aristo heiress, coded for DAR.
And there, also, was an argument
And if you spent any time at all working in a sanitarium, as Justen had, you already knew every side of the debate about getting tested for DAR. Some wanted to know so they could plan accordingly. Some didn’t, so they could live their lives without the specter of death.
“Persis,” he murmured, and it felt like a hug. “I just meant . . . with your parents’ example, you shouldn’t sell yourself short. You should marry someone who can be a true partner.”
The two sides of Persis Blake warred within her. It had been a long time since she’d considered—
