Prodigy (Legend 2)

“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 HOURS.

VENEZIA.

DAY ONE AS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE PATRIOTS.

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.