Prodigy (6 page)

Tess’s fingers drum expectantly against my blankets, and she bites her round upper
lip. “Well? How does it feel?”

“It feels like . . . nothing. It’s not painful at all.” I run a tentative finger over
the cool metal, trying to get used to the foreign parts embedded in my leg. “She did
all this? When can I walk again? Has it really healed
this
quickly?”

Tess puffs up a little with pride. “I helped the Medic. You’re not supposed to move
around much over the next twelve hours. To let the healing salves settle and do their
work.” Tess grins and the smile crinkles up her eyes in a familiar way. “It’s a standard
operation for injured warfront soldiers. Pretty awesome, yeah? You should be able
to use it like a regular leg after that, maybe even better. The doctor I helped is
really famous from the warfront hospitals, but she also does black-market work on
the side, which is lucky. While she was here, she showed me how to reset Kaede’s broken
arm too, so it’d heal faster.”

I wonder how much the Patriots spent on this surgery. I’d seen soldiers with metal
parts before, from as little as a steel square on their upper arms to as much as an
entire leg replaced with metal. It can’t be a cheap operation, and from the appearance
of my leg, the doctor used military-grade healing salves. I can already tell how much
power my leg will have when I recover—and how much more quickly I’ll be able to get
around. How much sooner I can find Eden.

“Yeah,” I say to Tess. “It’s amazing.” I crane my neck a little so I can focus on
the bedroom door, but this makes me dizzy. My head is pounding up a storm now, and
I can hear low voices coming from farther down the hall. “What’s everyone doing?”

Tess glances over her shoulder again and then back to me. “They’re talking about the
first phase of the plan. I’m not in it, so I’m sitting out.” She helps me lie back
down. Then an awkward pause follows. I still can’t get used to how different Tess
seems. Tess notices me admiring her, hesitates, and smiles awkwardly.

“When all this is finished,” I begin, “I want you to come with me to the Colonies,
okay?” Tess breaks into a smile, then smoothes my blankets nervously with one hand
as I go on. “If everything goes according to the Patriots’ plans, and the Republic
really does fall, I don’t want us to be caught in the chaos. Eden, June, you, and
me. Got it, cousin?”

Tess’s burst of enthusiasm wanes. She hesitates. “I don’t know, Day,” she says, glancing
over toward the door again.

“Why? You afraid of the Patriots or something?”

“No . . . they’ve been good to me so far.”

“Then why don’t you want to come?” I ask her quietly. I’m starting to feel weak again,
and it’s hard to keep things from getting foggy. “Back in Lake, we always said that
we’d escape to the Colonies together if we got the chance. My father told me that
the Colonies must be a place full of—”

“Freedom and opportunities. I know.” Tess shakes her head. “It’s just that . . .”

“That what?”

One of Tess’s hands slides over to tuck inside my own. I picture her as a kid again,
back when I first found her rummaging through that garbage bin in Nima sector. Is
this really the same girl? Her hands aren’t as small as they used to be, although
they still fit neatly into mine. She looks up at me. “Day . . . I’m worried about
you.”

I blink. “What do you mean? The surgery?”

Tess gives me an impatient shake of her head. “No. I’m worried about you because of
June.
”

I breathe deeply, waiting for her to continue, afraid of what she’ll say.

Tess’s voice changes into something strange, something I don’t recognize. “Well . . .
if June travels with us . . . I mean, I know how attached you are to her, but just
a few weeks ago she was a Republic
soldier.
Don’t you see that expression she gets now and then? Like she misses the Republic,
or wants to go back or something? What if she tries to sabotage our plan, or turns
on you while we’re trying to get to the Colonies? The Patriots are already taking
precautions—”

“Stop.” I’m a little surprised by how loud and irritated I sound. I’ve never raised
my voice to Tess before, and I regret it instantly. I can hear Tess’s jealousy in
every word she says, the way she spits June’s name out like she can’t wait to get
it over with. “I understand that it’s only been a few weeks since everything’s happened.
Of course she’s going to have moments of uncertainty. Right? Still, she’s
not
loyal to the Republic anymore, and we’re in a dangerous place even if we don’t travel
with her. Besides, June has skills that none of us have. She broke me out of Batalla
Hall, for crying out loud. She can keep us safe.”

Tess purses her lips. “Well, how do you feel about what the Patriots are planning
for her? What about her relationship with the Elector?”

“What relationship?” I hold up my hands weakly, trying to pretend that it doesn’t
matter. “It’s all part of the game. She doesn’t even know him.”

Tess shrugs. “She will soon,” she whispers. “When she has to get close enough to manipulate
him.” Her eyes lower again. “I’ll
go
with you, Day. I’d go anywhere with you. But I just wanted to remind you about . . .
her. Just in case you hadn’t thought of things that way.”

“Everything will be okay,” I manage to say. “Just trust me.”

The tension finally passes. Tess’s face softens into its familiar sweetness, and my
irritation slips away as quickly as it had come. “You’ve always watched out for me,”
I say with a smile. “Thanks, cousin.”

Tess grins. “Someone has to, yeah?” She gestures at my rolled-up sleeves. “I’m glad
the uniform fits you, by the way. It seemed too big when it was folded, but I guess
it turned out all right.” Without warning, she leans over and gives me a quick kiss
on the cheek. She jumps away almost instantly. Her face is bright pink. Tess has kissed
me on the cheek before, when she was younger, but this is the first time I’ve felt
something
more
in her gesture. I try to figure out how, in less than a month, Tess left her childhood
behind and became an adult. I cough uncomfortably. It’s an odd new relationship.

Then she stands up and pulls her hand away. She looks toward the door instead of at
me. “Sorry, you should be resting. I’ll check on you later. Try to go back to sleep.”

That’s when I realize that Tess must’ve been the one to drop off our uniforms in the
bathroom. She might’ve seen me kissing June. I try to think through the fog in my
mind, to say something to her before she leaves, but she’s already walked out the
door and disappeared down the hall.

0545
H
OURS.

V
ENEZIA.

D
AY
O
NE AS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE
P
ATRIOTS.

I
CHOSE NOT TO BE IN THE ROOM DURING THE SURGERY;
Tess, of course, stayed to assist the Medic. The image of Day lying unconscious on
the table, face pale and blank, head turned ninety degrees to the ceiling, would remind
me a little too much of the night I’d hunched over Metias’s dead body in the hospital
alley. I prefer not to let the Patriots see my weaknesses. So I stay away, sitting
alone on one of the couches in the main room.

I also keep my distance in order to really think about Razor’s plan for me:

I’m going to be arrested by Republic soldiers.

I’m going to find a way to get a private audience with the Elector, and then I’m going
to gain his trust.

I’m going to tell him about a bogus assassination plot that will lead to a full pardon
of all my crimes against the Republic.

Then I’m going to lure him to his
actual
assassination.

That’s my role. Thinking about it is one thing; pulling it off is another. I study
my hands and wonder whether I’m ready to have blood on them, whether I’m ready to
kill someone. What was it Metias had always told me?
“Few people ever kill for the right reasons, June.”
But then I remember what Day said in the bathroom.
“Getting rid of the person in charge seems like a small price to pay for starting
a revolution. Don’t you think so?”

The Republic took Metias away from me. I think of the Trials, the lies about my parents’
deaths. The engineered plagues. From this luxury high-rise I can see Vegas’s Trial
stadium behind the skyscrapers, gleaming, off in the distance. Few people kill for
the right reasons, but if
any
reason is the right one, it must be this. Isn’t it?

My hands are trembling slightly. I steady them.

It’s quiet in this apartment now. Razor has left again (he stepped out at 0332 in
full uniform), and Kaede is dozing on the far end of my couch. If I were to drop a
pin on the marble floor in here, the sound would probably hurt my ears. After a while,
I turn my attention to the small screen on the wall. It’s muted, but I still watch
the familiar cycle of news play. Flood warnings, storm warnings. Airship arrival and
departure times. Victories against the Colonies along the warfront. Sometimes I wonder
whether the Republic makes up those victories too, and whether we’re actually winning
or losing the war. The headlines roll on. There’s even a public announcement warning
that any civilian caught with a red streak in his or her hair will be arrested on
sight.

The news cycle ends abruptly. I straighten when I see the next bit of footage: The
new Elector is about to give his first live speech to the public.

I hesitate, then glance over at Kaede. She seems to be sleeping pretty soundly. I
get up, cross the room on light feet, then skim a finger across the monitor to turn
up the volume.

The sound is tiny, but enough for me to hear. I watch as Anden (or rather, the Elector
Primo) steps gracefully up to the podium. He nods to the usual barrage of government-appointed
reporters in front of him. He looks exactly the way I remember him, a younger version
of his father, with slender glasses and a regal tilt to his chin, dressed impeccably
in a formal, gold-trimmed black uniform with double rows of shining buttons.

“Now is a time of great change. Our resolve is being tested more than ever, and the
war with our enemy has reached a climax,” he says. He speaks as though his father
hadn’t died, as if he had always been our Elector Primo. “We have won our last three
warfront battles and seized three of the Colonies’ southern cities. We are on the
brink of victory, and it won’t be long before the Republic spans to the edge of the
Atlantic Ocean. It is our manifest destiny.”

He goes on, reassuring the people of our military’s strength and promising later announcements
about changes he wants to implement—who knows how much of it is true. I go back to
studying his face. His voice is not unlike his father’s, but I find myself drawn to
the sincerity in it. Twenty years old. Maybe he actually believes everything he’s
saying, or maybe he just does a great job of hiding his doubts. I wonder how he feels
about his father’s death, and how he is able, at press conferences like this, to pull
himself together enough to play his role. No doubt Congress is eager to manipulate
such a young new Elector, to try to run the show behind the scenes and push him around
like a chess piece. Based on what Razor said, they must be clashing daily. Anden might
be as power- hungry as his father was if he refuses to listen to the Senate at all.

What exactly
are
the differences between Anden and his father? What does Anden think the Republic
should be—and for that matter, what do
I
think it should be?

I mute the screen again and walk away.
Don’t dwell too deeply on who Anden is.
I can’t think about him as if he were a real person—a person I have to kill.

Finally, as the first rays of dawn start spilling into the room, Tess comes out of
the bedroom with the news that Day is awake and alert. “He’s in good shape,” she says
to Kaede. “Right now he’s sitting up, and he should be able to walk around in a few
hours.” Then she sees me and her smile fades. “Um. You can see him if you want.”

Kaede cracks open an eye, shrugs, and goes back to sleep. I give Tess the friendliest
smile I can manage, then take a deep breath and head for the bedroom.

Day is propped up with pillows and covered up to his chest with a thick blanket. He
must be tired, but he still winks when he sees me walk in, a gesture that makes my
heart skip a beat. His hair spills around him in a shining circle. A few bent paper
clips lie in his lap (taken from the supply boxes in the corner—I guess he
did
get up). Apparently he was in the middle of making something out of them. I let out
a sigh of relief when I can tell that he’s not in any pain. “Hey,” I say to him. “Glad
to see you’re alive.”

“Glad to see I’m alive too,” he replies. His eyes follow me as I sit down next to
him on the bed. “Did I miss anything while I was out?”

“Yeah. You missed listening to Kaede snore on the couch. For someone always ducking
the law, that girl sure sleeps soundly.”

Day laughs a little. I marvel again at his high spirits, something I haven’t seen
much of over the last few weeks. My gaze wanders to where the blanket covers his healing
leg. “How is it?”

Day scoots the blanket aside. Underneath, there are plates of smooth metal (steel
and titanium) where his wound had been. The Medic also replaced his bad knee with
an artificial one, and now a good third of his leg is metallic. He reminds me of the
soldiers who come back from the warfront, with their synthetic hands and arms and
legs, metal where skin used to be. The Medic must be very familiar with war injuries.
No doubt Razor’s officer connections helped her obtain something as expensive as the
healing salves she must have used on Day. I put out my open palm, and he puts his
hand in mine.

“How does it feel?”

Day shakes his head incredulously. “It feels like nothing. Completely light and painless.”
A mischievous grin crosses his face. “Now you’ll get to see how I can
really
run a building, darling. Not even a cracked knee to hold me back, yeah? What a nice
birthday present.”

“Birthday? I didn’t know. Happy belated,” I say with a smile. My eyes go to the paper
clips strewn across his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Oh.” Day picks up one of the things he’s making, something that looks like a metal
circle. “Just passing the time.” He holds the circle up to the light, and then takes
my hand. He presses it into my palm. “A gift for you.”

I study it more closely. It’s made of four unfurled paper clips carefully entwined
around one another in a spiral, and pulled together end to end so they form a tiny
ring. Simple and neat. Artistic, even. I can see love and care in the twists of metal,
the little bends where Day’s fingers worked on the wire over and over until it formed
the right curves.
He
made
it for me.
I push it onto my finger and it slides effortlessly into place. Gorgeous. I’m bashful,
flattered into complete silence. Can’t remember the last time anyone actually
made
something for me on his own.

Day seems disappointed by my reaction, but hides it behind a careless laugh. “I know
you rich folks have all your fancy traditions, but in the poor sectors, engagements
and gestures of affection usually go like this.”

Engagements? My heart flutters in my chest. I can’t help smiling. “With paper clip
rings?”

Oh no.
I’d meant it as an honest question of curiosity, but don’t realize I sound sarcastic
until the words are already out of my mouth.

Day blushes a little; I’m immediately angry at myself for slipping up again. “With
something handmade,” he corrects me after a beat. He’s looking down, clearly embarrassed,
and I feel horrible for having triggered it. “Sorry it’s kind of stupid- looking,”
he says in a low voice. “Wish I could make something nicer for you.”

“No, no,” I interrupt, trying to fix what I just said. “I really like it.” I run my
fingers over the tiny ring, keeping my eyes fixed on it so I don’t have to meet Day’s
eyes.
Does he assume that I don’t think it’s good enough? Say something, June. Anything.
My details come bubbling up. “Unplated galvanized steel wiring. This is good material,
you know. Sturdier than the alloy ones, still bendy, and won’t rust. It’s—”

I stop when I see Day’s withering stare. “I like it,” I repeat.
Idiotic reply, June. Why don’t you punch him in the face while you’re at it.
I turn even more flustered when I remember that I
have
actually pistol-whipped him in the face before. Romantic.

“You’re welcome,” he says, shoving a couple of the unbent paper clips into his pockets.

There’s a long pause. I’m not sure what he wanted me to say back, but it probably
wasn’t a list of a paper clip’s physical properties. Suddenly unsure of myself, I
draw closer and rest my head against Day’s chest. He takes a quick breath, as if I’d
caught him by surprise, and then he drapes his arm gently around me.
There, that’s better.
I close my eyes. One of his hands combs through my hair, sending goose bumps down
my arms, and I allow myself to indulge in a little moment of fantasy—I imagine him
running a finger along my jaw line, bringing his face down to mine.

Day leans over my ear. “How are you feeling about the plan?” he whispers.

I shrug, shoving my disappointment away. Stupid of me to fantasize about kissing Day
at a time like this. “Has anyone told you what you’re supposed to do?”

“No. But I’m sure there’s going to be some kind of national broadcast to tell the
country I’m still alive. I’m supposed to stir up trouble, right? Work the people into
a frenzy?” Day laughs dryly, but his face doesn’t look amused. “Whatever gets me to
Eden, I guess.”

“I guess,” I say.

He pulls me upright then, so that I face him. “I don’t know if they’ll let us communicate
with each other,” he says. His voice drops so low I can barely hear it. “The plan
sounds
good, but if something goes wrong—”

“They’ll keep a close eye on me, I’m sure,” I interrupt him. “Razor’s a Republic officer.
He can find a way to get me out if it starts falling apart. As for communications . . .”
I bite my lip, thinking. “I’ll come up with something.”

Day touches my chin, bringing me closer until his nose brushes mine. “If anything
goes wrong, if you change your mind, if you need help, you send a signal, you hear
me?”

His words send shivers down my neck. “Okay,” I whisper.

Day gives me a subtle nod, then pulls away and leans back against his pillows. I let
out my breath. “Are you ready?” he asks. There’s more to his sentence, I can tell,
but he doesn’t say it.
Are you ready to kill the Elector?

I give him a forced grin. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

We stay like that for a long time, until the light filtering in from the windows is
bright and we hear the morning pledge blaring out across the city. Finally, I hear
the front door swing open and close, and then Razor’s voice. Footsteps approach the
bedroom, and Razor peeks in right as I straighten and sit up.

“How’s that leg of yours?” he asks Day. His face is as calm as ever, his eyes expressionless
behind his glasses.

Day nods. “Good.”

“Excellent.” Razor smiles sympathetically. “I hope you’ve had enough time with your
boy, Ms. Iparis. We’re moving out in an hour.”

“I thought the Medic wanted me to rest it for—” Day starts to say.

“Sorry,” Razor replies as he turns away. “We have an airship to catch. Don’t push
that leg too hard just yet.”