“Why didn’t you tell me what she was?” Natalie says. “Why didn’t she?”
“She was afraid you wouldn’t accept her,” Emissary Buchanan says.
Natalie flinches. “Why? She was my sister! I loved her.”
“I know,” Emissary Buchanan says. “I tried to make Polly feel part of the family. I doted on her, lavished her with gifts and affection. I did everything I could to make her feel special, beautiful, accepted, but she never did. She always felt like an outcast.”
“Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you make people like her live inside walled ghettos,” I mutter.
Emissary Buchanan’s thin lips pinch together.
“How can you justify what you did to my people, when your own daughter was one of us?” I say, anger boiling up inside me.
“She wasn’t one of you,” Emissary Buchanan says harshly. “Polly was mostly human. She was a good girl; she posed no threat to anyone, unlike the Darklings.”
I ball my hands up into fists and Natalie shakes her head in disgust.
“How could you let Purian Rose torture her the night they came for Father?” Natalie says. “She must have been heartbroken that you chose me over her and allowed her own father to do that to her.”
“I picked Polly because she was physically stronger than you, Natalie,” Emissary Buchanan says. “Those wounds would have killed you. I explained this to her afterward, and she understood. She forgave me.”
Natalie blinks rapidly. “You didn’t deserve her forgiveness. You should have told me what she was. I could have been there for her, but you never gave me the chance.”
Natalie gets up and leaves the room. I follow her, shutting the door behind me, blocking out the sound of Emissary Buchanan’s sobs. We go to the balcony. At night the city has a different sort of beauty, like jewels glittering under dark waters. On the digital screens across the city SBN news continues to run reports of the upcoming Cleansing ceremony. Pilgrims have already started to enter the city from all over the state, wanting to be blessed by Purian Rose himself. From up here I can see the outline of Rose Plaza in the distance. In a little over a day, we’ll be there for the Cleansing ceremony. Nerves bubble inside me, but I push them down. I draw Natalie into my arms, and she buries her face in my chest.
“I never knew what Polly was going through,” Natalie says, her voice muffled. “All those years I was jealous of her, wishing I had her life, wishing I could be her. I didn’t know how much she was hurting. Can you imagine what it must have been like for her, to be tortured by her father and betrayed by her mother? No wonder her mind was never the same after that.” I hold her close as she cries, running my hand down her back. “How could Polly forgive my mother after what she did to her?”
“I didn’t know Polly for long, but I could tell she had a good heart,” I murmur. “She didn’t seem like the kind of girl who could hold a grudge against someone.”
“She wasn’t,” Natalie admits. “Polly tried to see the best in people; she thought everyone deserved a second chance. She was a better person than me.” Natalie pulls away, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to apologize to my mother.”
“Do you mind if I check on Evangeline?” I ask.
Natalie shrugs a little. “I don’t mind.”
I kiss her forehead and then go down to the hospital where Evangeline is recuperating. The ward is quiet and all the lights are off, except for the one above Evangeline’s bed. She looks very pale but otherwise happy. A half-empty glass of Synth-O-Blood sits on her dresser. It shouldn’t take long for her to recover from the surgery, which is lucky since we don’t have much time; we need her up and walking about in—I check the clock hanging on the wall—fragg, thirty-six hours! She’s wearing a pale green hospital gown, which is open at the front, although bandages are wrapped around her chest, preserving her modesty. Elijah is with her. They’re chatting with each other, laughing. Occasionally she touches his arm. His cheeks flush, his smile widens.
“Hey,” I say, and they turn to look at me. “I just wanted to check how you were.”
She shrugs. “It feels like someone’s stuffed me with a pound of potatoes. Ash, do you think this is going to work?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“You’re not scared?” she says.
I give a lopsided grin. “Nah. Purian Rose is the one who needs to be afraid, not us.”
She bites her lip. “Do you think my new heart might activate when I touch Rose?” She looks hopefully at me. “Dr. Craven wasn’t certain, because it’s a Lupine heart, but Lucinda said Theora felt a spark in her chest when they touched, so . . .”
“Yeah, it’s possible,” I say, smiling reassuringly. I know how much she’s longed for a heartbeat. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
I head to the elevator and jab the button a few times. There’s a ping as the elevator arrives, and I enter. The walls are covered in sheets of gilded metal, warping my reflection so I’m just a dark shadow among a sea of gold. I sink down onto the floor and bury my head in my hands. I lied to Evangeline when I said I wasn’t scared. I’m terrified.
31.
EDMUND
Centrum, Dominion State
Today
I STEP ONTO THE BALCONY of the Golden Citadel, which overlooks Rose Plaza, and rest my gloved hands on the balustrade. All around me the city of Centrum glints in the moonlight, the towering skyscrapers the perfect combination of beauty and power. Down in the square below, a large platform has been erected in preparation for the public ceremony, happening the day after tomorrow. Everything is falling into place. Thirty years of preparation is finally about to pay off. I should be happy. But for some reason, I feel empty.
A sudden cold wind blasts over the balcony, sending a chill down my neck. I sense someone beside me, and turn. Standing a few meters away is Theora. She’s wearing a primrose-yellow dress and hunting jacket—the very outfit she wore the night my father murdered her. Her snowy-white mane stirs in the breeze. A few strands of hair fall into her silver eyes.
“Hello, Edmund,” she says.
I exhale, grief ripping through me. I know she can’t really be here—it seems I’ve started hearing voices in my head, like Patrick claimed my mother used to do—but seeing her makes all those memories come rushing back. She looks over the balustrade at the Cleansing pool in the square below.
“Are you really going to go ahead with this, Edmund?” she says.
I place my gloved hand next to hers. Every part of me aches to touch her, but I know it’s impossible. She’s just a figment of my mind.
“I’m doing all of this for you,” I say.
“Is this really what you think I’d want?” she replies.
“It’s what I want. You and Grandfather were the only people who accepted me for what I truly am.” I sigh. “I miss you.”
A sad smile flitters over her lips. “So this is your solution? To make everyone like us?”
“If we’re all the same, then there will be peace at last,” I say.
“You’re wrong, Edmund.” Theora turns her face up to look at the moon. The iridescent light makes her pale skin glow. “Do you remember when I took you to the Lupine temple on Mount Alba?”
“I think about it every night,” I whisper.
“You asked me how I could be so kind to you, after what your father did to my parents,” she says. “Do you recall what I said?”
“You can’t judge an entire species by the actions of one man.”
“And what else?”
I briefly shut my eyes. “It’s easy to hate. The true test of our hearts is to forgive.”
“Precisely,” Theora says, turning to me, her silver eyes sparkling. “Forgiveness is the only way you will ever find peace, Edmund.”
“That will never happen,” I say bitterly. “You need a heart to forgive, and Icarus took that from me the night he murdered you.”
“Your Excellency?” a worried voice says behind me.
I turn to see my servant Forsyth standing by the doorway. He’s dressed in long white Pilgrim robes. His head is shaved, and he has a red rose tattoo above his left ear, like all my faithful followers. He studies me with anxious, newly silver eyes.
“Sebastian Eden is here, as you requested,” he says.
I glance toward Theora, but she’s gone.
“Thank you, Forsyth,” I say, moving away from the gold balustrade. I have nothing to fear about Forsyth repeating what he just saw. He’s devoted to me.
“I have other news, Your Excellency,” Forsyth says as we walk back inside the building. “The bodies of the Lupine woman Ulrika and her cousin Kieran have been brought to Centrum, as instructed. What would you like me to do with them?”
I run my tongue over my top teeth, feeling the rough edges of my veneers. I was furious when I found out they’d been shot, particularly Ulrika. She was like a sister to Theora.
“Have them cremated at the next full moon,” I say as we enter my office.
My grandfather would have hated this room, with its lavish furnishings, marble floors and gilt walls. Patrick thought it gave the right air of authority, but I’m not so sure. I miss the whitewashed walls of the church I grew up in. The boy Sebastian is standing by the large fireplace, looking at the photographs on the mantelpiece. He’s dressed in a gray uniform, his head cleanly shaven, like Forsyth’s. He spins around when he hears me approach, and bows.
“Your Excellency,” Sebastian says. There’s a long gash down the side of his cheek, which I presume he got during the siege on the rebel compound. It seeps when he talks. Disgusting.
I turn to Forsyth. “Prepare another seat at the dining table for Mr. Eden. Put him beside Patrick.”
“Emissary Bradshaw won’t be able to attend dinner tonight, Your Excellency,” Forsyth says. “His servant girl called a short while ago. Apparently he’s had a bad reaction to a”—he lowers his voice—“procedure. He’s going to be bedridden for at least a week.”
I sigh impatiently. For a man as grotesquely fat as Patrick, he’s surprisingly vain, just like his parents. It’s typical that he won’t be there to support me on the most important day of my life; he will be punished for this.
“Fine,” I say. “It’s probably best he doesn’t come to the Cleansing ceremony if that’s the case. I don’t want him scaring people.”
“Very well,” Forsyth says. He bows and humbly walks backward toward the door.
“Oh, and Forsyth?”
“Yes, Your Excellency?”
“Find the squad responsible for killing Ulrika and Kieran and have them shot,” I say.
“The whole squad, Your Excellency?” Forsyth says uncertainly.
“Yes, all of them,” I reply. “I won’t tolerate incompetence. I gave them strict instructions, and I expected them to be followed.”
The boy Sebastian blanches.
“As you wish,” Forsyth says, shutting the doors behind him.
I stroll over to Sebastian. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, giving away his nerves.
“I hear you were in charge of the attack on the rebel base in Gallium,” I say. “Congratulations. You did a fine job.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” the boy replies, his shoulders squaring with pride, making the butterfly medal on his chest glint. “I live to serve you.”
I study the medal, then the boy’s silver eyes. He’s taken the retrovirus, but based on his pallid complexion, he’s not reacting well to it. Shame. It’s hard to find good employees. I place my hands on the boy’s upper arms, and he flinches slightly.
“So did you kill Ash Fisher and Natalie Buchanan, like I asked you to?” I say.
The boy’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. He blinks rapidly. “Yes, Your Excellency.”
I release his shoulders. “Good. I can’t afford anything to go wrong at the ceremony.”
For the first time in weeks, I feel happy. With Ash Fisher and Natalie Buchanan dead, there’s no one left to stop me.
32.
ASH
THE NEXT DAY IS SPENT PREPPING for the Cleansing ceremony. Beetle and Roach are on the balcony, their heads newly shaved, chatting to Amy as she practices painting fake rose tattoos behind their left ears. Beetle carries off the shaved-head look well, but Roach seems utterly miserable about her new haircut, given the way she’s scowling.
I run through tomorrow’s plan in my head again. First thing in the morning, General Buchanan and Garrick will head to Rose Plaza and take out the soldiers manning the MGTs on the rooftops. Beetle and Roach will blend into the crowd on the ground, in case there’s any trouble from the Sentry guards positioned there, and Natalie and I will bring Evangeline up to the stage. The others will go in the Transporter, flown by Day, and hide in the clouds above the city. If we need to make a quick exit, Natalie will hail them, using the GPS watch Destiny gave her. I turn to Day, who is sitting with Garrick on the sofas.
“You good for tomorrow?” I ask.
“I think so,” she says. “Garrick’s been telling me how to land the Transporter; we’ll go up to the roof in a minute and run through the aircraft’s controls.”
I nod, pleased. It’s all coming together. The last part of the plan is down to Emissary Buchanan and Dr. Craven. They’re currently gathering all the evidence we have against Purian Rose, which includes the file on Polly, plus the lab report Natalie found in the Barren Lands, and the blue digital disc and sample of Wings we took from the Tenth, which Dr. Craven had the foresight to slip into his medical bag while the Sentry rebel compound was under attack.
