His caretaker, Arton, was a rumored womanizer, and the pictures confirmed it—almost every image showed him with a different girlfriend. Usually that vice corrected itself, as philandering damaged a man’s reputation until women avoided him, but it seemed Arton hadn’t reached that point yet. The more photos she saw, the more Alina disliked him. Zaiden seemed to echo her feelings because as he grew older, there were fewer pictures of him and Arton together.
His coming-of-age had the usual transformation, from child-like charm to defined, stunning features. His dimples became mature indentations in his square jaw and his hair went from ash blond to golden brown. She loved how his light eyelashes framed his dark, mysterious eyes.
She closed her eyes, and for about the hundredth time, visualized him staring at her in the dim light of Sampson’s dungeon. What drew her to him? Did she like him because he was the first boy to notice and be kind to her?
She shook her head. No. She liked him because he was different. His eyes longed for more in life than Pria offered.
She reached the page of his fifteenth year and found several photos of him with two boys who looked familiar. At the bottom of the page a bold caption stated:
Zaiden with Chet and Lorenzo—extent of affiliation unknown
Alina gasped. She remembered Chet and Lorenzo. They created a scandal by running away from home. It took three days to find them, deep in Pria’s mountains. Sampson called their actions revolutionary and dangerous and declared they must receive his therapy to cure them. Otherwise they might slip again, with more dire consequences.
His therapy. Sampson used that term when a child became too disruptive, and she understood what it meant now. His indoctrination. Chet and Lorenzo were pulled from school for months, and when they returned, they were model Prian citizens. She’d never seen them with Zaiden, but dozens of pictures revealed a close friendship around the time the boys rebelled.
Other pages showed Zaiden at school and athletic events, at city celebrations and outings with Arton and his pretty women. There were no photos of him with girls until she swiped and saw herself, talking with him on the street the day she walked home from Rex’s house.
She recoiled at the picture. The angle, probably taken by the officials following her, caught an unflattering view of her profile. Her face glistened with nervous sweat. She looked like this as she declared to Zaiden she’d be a beauty one day. He must have thought her delusional.
She pressed her lips as she studied his wrinkled brow and downcast eyes. He pitied her.
He didn’t gaze at her from the cell in Sampson’s dungeon. She imagined it. A perfect boy like him, surrounded by beauty, couldn’t be attracted to the girl in that picture. Alina swiped again and found a close-up of him and Eris kissing at the Harvest Feast. She flung the panel across the room where it smacked the wall and landed on the floor with a thud.
She sprang off the bed, grabbed an apple from her tray and took a bite. Everyone in Pria ate when they were upset. No matter how much they ate or drank, no bad effects came from it. Food wouldn’t bring any lasting satisfaction, but for now, it comforted her.
She chewed furiously, tossed the core in the garbage and walked to the bathroom, where curiosity drew her to the mirror above the sink.
Trembling, she walked in. Why am I nervous? She shut her eyes, flipped on the light, then flung them open. Her hands slapped over her mouth.
She didn’t recognize the girl in front of her or the striking blue eyes blinking in shock. Her nose looked the same, but smaller. Lush, thick eyelashes settled on her pink cheeks, which were smooth, like porcelain. Though she’d been traveling all day, her honey brown hair looked soft and glossy. Her full lips revealed straight, white teeth when she smiled, and her figure was both slim and well proportioned.
She stared in the mirror for a long time, shifting angles and smiling, trembling with excitement. Out of all her regrets for Zaiden that day, one now tormented her most—he wasn’t there to see her.
The next morning when the sun peeked through her window, Alina made a mental note to acquire more reading material as soon as possible. Zaiden’s info-disc was all she had, and she perused it until she knew each picture intimately, except the one of him and Eris. She watched the monitor for a while, but entertainment in Carthem was not the big industry it was in Pria. She picked up only three streams through the static: a news report discussing local weather, an educational program about Stormport’s laboratories, and a drama with such exaggerated and stilted acting, she couldn’t turn it off fast enough.
Alina opened her blinds to let in the sunlight just as someone knocked on her door. “Come in,” she answered.
The same woman from the night before entered with a new tray of food. She set it on the table and took the nearly full tray from the day before. She gave Alina a worried glance as she left.
“Thank you,” Alina called after her.
She sat down, picked up her fork and took a bite of the eggs on her plate. Though somewhat bland, she enjoyed the simple, fresh taste. Prian food had a flavorful but artificial nature about it. This food attempted to be nothing more than nourishment for the body.
Another knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Alina said.
Rex hobbled through the door, holding his breakfast tray and smiling. “I slept great! I think I’m getting the hang of mortality now.” He sat down and dug into his eggs. “The aches are annoying but sleeping and eating—wow! Immortals don’t know what they’re missing! Sampson’s smart to keep them ignorant.
