Below the image, the caption read: “New Equality Brings Death to School Children!”
“What is this?” I asked, blinking hard as I tried to focus, my eyes stinging.
“It’s a periodical. They’re like the underground missives we used to read, only now they’re no longer secretive. It’s how news is being spread throughout the city and beyond,” Aron answered.
“The irony is,” Xander added, “the person responsible for this periodical is only able to distribute it because of the New Equality he or she is condemning.”
I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. Not because of the message it delivered or because I was proud of the changes I’d made that allowed for such a publication to exist. Instead I kept it because it was the only photograph I had to remind me of Sydney.
PART II
brooklynn
Brooklynn stared out in the general direction of the Capitol. Not that she could see it anymore. The concrete wall that surrounded it and its jagged-toothed buildings hadn’t been visible for hours. Instead she watched passing shadows of a countryside shrouded by the cover of night, images that blurred into unfocused smudges, making one impossible to distinguish from the next.
The floor beneath her feet rocked, and she reached for a handrail to steady herself. She waited until her stomach caught up with the lurching motion of the train; something she kept telling herself she would grow accustomed to with time. Train travel wasn’t nearly as exhilarating as she’d thought it would be. For her, it was the opposite, in fact. She felt endlessly queasy, and she longed to stand on solid unmoving ground once more.
Unfortunately, fate had different plans for her and her queen.
Everything had happened so quickly after the attack on the Academy. Yet it wasn’t until they’d left the school that day that they’d realized the assaults hadn’t been confined to only their location, but that nearly an entire section of the city—just barely rebuilt from the rebellions that Brook herself had been a part of—was on fire. Buildings had crumbled like oily black pyres that burned angrily and then collapsed into piles of charred rubble.
Now Brooklynn, Charlie, and Aron were on a train headed north, along with Zafir and fifty of Brook’s best soldiers. They’d be arriving at the summit several days early, but at least they’d be arriving intact.
It was now Max’s job to find those responsible for the attacks on the Capitol, those who’d dared to kill innocent children and threaten the life of their queen, those who included Brooklynn’s own father.
She wished it were her instead of Max.
She’d rather be anywhere but here, she thought, letting her forehead fall against the glass and trying to ignore the stomach acid burning the back of her throat.
“Here,” Aron’s voice interrupted her, his hand finding the crook of her elbow and leading her away from the window. “Sit down and drink this.”
She lifted her gaze to his, frowning as she took the steaming mug from him. Wrapping her hands around it, she inhaled deeply, expecting to breathe in something delightful, an elixir meant to soothe her stomach. Instead, she winced. “What are you trying to do, poison me?”
Aron dropped down beside her, pushing her out of his way so he had room on the bench. “Don’t be so grouchy, it’s not my fault you can’t sleep.”
“No,” Brook reluctantly relented. “I suppose it’s not.” She lifted the cup to her lips and blew on it before taking a sip. The bitter liquid scalded her tongue. “Where’d you get this, anyway?”
Aron watched her closely, his warm eyes crinkling when she grimaced. “That bad, huh? The old lady in the galley swears it’s a cure-all for motion sickness.”
She took another swallow, a more generous one this time. “I’m not motion sick, I just . . . I just don’t like trains is all.”
“How would you know? This is the first train you’ve ever been on.”
Brook’s scowl deepened. “Well, I don’t like this train.”
“Because it makes you sick.”
Brook nodded. “Right.” And then she frowned at him. “No,” she countered. “I mean, that’s not what I meant. I don’t trust it. It doesn’t feel . . . stable.” She glowered at Aron over the top of the earthenware mug, but she continued to sip the foul liquid inside. “What do you want, anyway, Midget?” He leaned back, and Brook had to duck to get out of his way. She wondered when his shoulders had widened, and she suddenly realized that the nickname sounded odd rolling off her tongue. “I mean, why are you even here?”
He closed his eyes, and Brooklynn could’ve sworn he looked relaxed, that he actually liked the rocking of the locomotive beneath them. She narrowed her eyes, trying to decide if she saw the hint of a smile on his lips, or if fatigue was finally getting the best of her and her eyes were playing tricks on her. “On the train? Or here now, with you?”
Brook weighed the difference before answering. “Either.”
Aron opened one eye and squinted down at her, forcing her to admit that he’d grown taller too. “I’m here because Charlie needs us. I’m here because I don’t really have anywhere else to go.” He sighed, leaning his head back once more. “And I’m here because you’re my friend, Brook, despite how hard you try to pretend I’m not.”
Silence filled the gap between them, and Brooklynn let the mug settle on top of her lap, her fingers clenching it a little too tightly as she turned to look out the window to avoid looking at him altogether.