Champion (Legend 3)

“No! I meant it! I wanted to scream. It was a good-bye, the only one I could give. But I meant it. I promise.

“Instead I said, ‘Why did you have to cross the Republic? I warned you, over and over again. Cross the Republic too many times, and eventually they’ll burn you. I warned you! I told you to listen!’

“But your brother shook his head. It’s something you’ll never understand, his eyes seemed to say. Blood leaked from his mouth, and his grip tightened on my wrist. ‘Don’t hurt June,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t know anything.’ Then a fierce, terrified light appeared in his eyes. ‘Don’t hurt her. Promise me.’

“So I told him, ‘I’ll protect her. I don’t know how, but I’ll try. I promise.’

“The light gradually faded from his eyes, and his grip loosened. He stared at me until he couldn’t stare anymore, and then I knew that he was gone. Move. Get out of here, I told myself. But I stayed crouched over Metias’s body, my mind blank. His sudden absence hit me. Metias was gone, Metias was never coming back, and it was all my fault. No. Long live the Republic. That’s what really mattered, I told myself, yes, yes, that was the important thing. This—whatever this was between Metias and me—wasn’t real, could never have happened anyway. Not with Metias as my captain. Not with Metias as a criminal working against the country. It was for the best. Yes. It was.

“Eventually I heard shouts from approaching troops. I picked myself up. I wiped my eyes. I had to carry through now. I’d done it, I’d stayed faithful to the Republic. Some survival instinct kicked in. Everything seemed muted, like a fog had settled over my life. Good. I needed the strange calm, the absence of everything, that it brought. I folded my grief carefully back into my chest, as if nothing had happened, and when the first troops arrived on the scene, I placed a call to Commander Jameson.

“I didn’t even need to say a word. My silence told her everything she needed to know. ‘Fetch Little Iparis when you get a chance,’ she said to me. ‘And well done, Captain.’

“I didn’t reply.”

Thomas stays silent; the scene fades. I find myself back in his prison cell, my cheeks streaked with tears, my heart sliced open as if he had stabbed me in the chest as surely as he’d stabbed my brother.

Thomas stares at the floor between us with hollow eyes. “I loved him, June,” he says after a moment. “I really did. Everything I did as a soldier, all my hard work and training, was to impress him.” His guard is finally down, and I can see the true depth of his torture now. His voice hardens, as if he is trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. “I answer to the Republic—Metias himself trained me to be what I am. Even he understood.”

I’m surprised by how much my heart is breaking for him. You could have helped Metias escape. You could have done something. Anything. You could have tried. But even now, Thomas doesn’t budge. He will never change, and he will never, ever know who Metias really was.

I finally realize the true reason he requested this meeting with me. He wanted to give a real confession. Just like during our conversation when he first arrested me, he is fishing desperately for my forgiveness, for something to justify—in any small way—what he did. He wants to believe what he did was warranted. He wants me to sympathize. He wants peace before he goes.

But he’s wasted his efforts on me. I cannot give him peace, even on his final day. Some things cannot be forgiven.

“I feel sorry for you,” I say quietly. “Because you’re so weak.”

Thomas tightens his lips. Still searching for some bit of validation he says, “I could’ve chosen Day’s route. I could have become a criminal. But I didn’t. I did everything right, you know. That was what Metias loved about me. He respected me. I followed all the rules, I obeyed all the laws, I worked my way up from where I started.” He leans toward me; his eyes grow more desperate. “I took an oath, June. I am still bound by that oath. I will die with honor for sacrificing everything I have—everything—for my country. And yet, Day is the legend, while I am to be executed.” His voice finally breaks with all his anguish and inner torment, the injustice he feels. “It makes no sense.”

I stand up. Behind me, the guards move toward the cell door. “You’re wrong,” I say sadly. “It makes perfect sense.”

“Why?”

“Because Day chose to walk in the light.” I turn my back on him for the last time. The door opens; the cell’s bars make way for the hall, a new rotation of prison guards, freedom. “And so did Metias.”

1532 HOURS.

That afternoon, I head to Denver University’s track with Ollie in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Outside, the sky looks yellow and hazy with the light of the afternoon sun. I try to picture the sky covered with the Colonies’ airships, ablaze with the fire from aerial dogfights and explosions. Twelve days before we need to offer something to the Colonies. Without Day’s help, how are we ever going to do that? The thought troubles me, but thankfully it helps keep the memories of Thomas and Commander Jameson out of my head. I pick up my pace. My running shoes pound against the pavement.

When I arrive at the track, I notice guards stationed at every entrance. At least four soldiers per gate. Anden must be doing his exercise routine somewhere out here too. The soldiers recognize me, let me through, and usher me into the stadium, where the track wraps around a large, open field. Anden’s nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’s down in the stadium’s underground lockers.