The Legend Trilogy Collection (54 page)

Behind us, the soldiers raise the alarm. “There!” one yells. A few shots ring out. They’re after us.

We barrel ahead through the crowd. Now and then I hear people exclaim,
“Is that Day?” “Did Day come back in a Colonies jet?”
When I glance behind us, I can tell that half the soldiers are heading the wrong way, unable to tell which direction we took. A couple of others are still hot on our trail. We’re only a block away from the Capitol Tower now, but to me it seems like miles. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of it through all the bodies pushing and shoving around. The JumboTrons show Anden standing on a balcony, a tiny, lone figure dressed in black and red, holding his hands out in a gesture of appeal.

He needs Day’s help.

Behind us, four soldiers are gradually catching up. The chase saps away the last of my strength. I’m panting, struggling to breathe. Day is already slowing down to keep pace with me, but I can tell we’ll never make it at this rate. I squeeze his hand and shake my head.

“You have to go ahead,” I tell Day firmly.

“You’re cracked.” He purses his lips and pulls us forward faster. “We’re almost there.”

“No.”
I lean closer to him as we continue to make our way through the people. “This is our one shot. Neither of us will make it if I keep slowing us down.”

Day hesitates, torn. We’ve already been separated once before—now he’s wondering if letting me go means he’ll never see me again. But we don’t have time for him to dwell on this. “I can’t run fast, but I can hide in the crowd. Trust me.”

Without warning, he grabs my waist, pulls me into a tight embrace, and kisses me hard on the lips. They’re burning hot. I kiss him back fiercely and run my hands along his back. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he breathes. “Hide, stay safe. See you soon.” Then he squeezes my hand and vanishes. I suck in a breath of icy cold air.
Move it, June. No time to waste.

I stop where I am, turn around, and crouch down right as the soldiers reach me. The first one doesn’t even see me coming. One second he’s running—the next I’ve tripped him and he’s flat on his back. I don’t dare stop to look—instead, I stagger back into the furious crowd, weaving my way through people with my head down until the soldiers have fallen far behind. I can’t believe how many people are here. Fights between civilians and street police are breaking out everywhere. Above it all, the JumboTrons display live feeds of Anden’s face, his expression grave; he’s pleading from behind the protective glass.

Six minutes pass. I’m only a dozen yards from the base of the Capitol Tower when I notice that the people around me are slowly falling silent. They’re no longer focused on Anden.

“Up there!” one person shouts.

They’re pointing at a boy with torch-bright hair, who’s perched on a Tower balcony on the opposite side of the same floor as Anden. The balcony’s protective glass catches some of the street’s light, and from here, the boy is glowing. I catch my breath and pause. It’s Day.

BY THE TIME I REACH THE CAPITOL TOWER, I’M soaked in sweat. My body burns with pain. I go around to one of its sides that isn’t facing the main square, then survey the crowd as people shove roughly past me in both directions. All around us are blinding JumboTrons, each displaying the exact same thing—the young Elector, pleading in vain with the people to return home and stay safe, to disperse before things get out of hand. He’s trying to console them by dictating his plans for reforming the Republic, doing away with the Trials and changing the way their career assignments are given. But I can tell this goddy political talk isn’t going to come close to satisfying the crowd. And even though Anden is older and wiser than June and me, he’s missing that crucial piece.

The people don’t believe him, and they don’t believe
in
him.

I bet Congress is watching all this with delight. Razor too. Does Anden even know that Razor was the one behind the plot? I narrow my eyes, then leap up to grab the second floor ledge of the wired building. I try to pretend that June is right behind me, cheering me on.

The speakers do seem to be wired up the way Kaede had described back when we were in Lamar. I bend down at the ledge right below the rooftop to study the wires. Yep. Wired in almost the same way I’d done it on the night I first met June in that midnight alley, where I’d asked her for plague cures through the speaker system. Except this time, I’ll be speaking not to an alleyway but to the Republic’s entire capital. To the country.

The wind stings my cheeks and whistles past my ears in gales, forcing me to constantly adjust my footing. I could die right now. I have no way of knowing if the soldiers on the rooftops will shoot me down before I can reach relative safety behind a balcony’s wall of glass, dozens of feet above the rest of the crowd. Or maybe they’ll recognize who I am and hold their fire.

I climb until I reach the tenth floor, the same floor that the Elector’s balcony is on, then crouch for a second to look down. I’m high enough—the instant I turn the corner of this building, everyone will see me. The masses are most concentrated on this side, their faces turned up to the Elector, their fists raised in anger. Even from here, I can see how many of them have that scarlet streak painted into their hair. Apparently the Republic’s attempts to outlaw it don’t work so well when
everyone
wants to do it.

On the edges of the square, street police and soldiers are striking out mercilessly with their batons, pushing people back with rows of transparent shields. I’m surprised there’s no shooting. My hands start shaking in rage. There are few things as intimidating as hundreds of Republic soldiers decked out in faceless riot gear, standing in grim, dark lines against a mass of unarmed protesters. I flatten myself against the wall and take a few breaths of cold night air, struggling to stay calm. Struggling to
remind
myself of June and June’s brother and the Elector, and that behind some of those faceless Republic masks are good people, with parents and siblings and children. I hope Anden is the reason no shots have rung out—that he has told his soldiers not to fire on this crowd.
I have to believe that.
Otherwise, I’ll never convince the people of what I’m about to say.

“Don’t be afraid,” I whisper to myself, my eyes squeezed shut. “You can’t afford it.”

Then I step out from the shadows, hurry along the ledge until I turn the corner of the building, and hop into the closest balcony I can find. I face the central square. The protective balcony glass cuts off about a foot over my head, but I can still feel the wind siphoning in from above. I take off my cap and toss it over the top edge. It floats down to the ground, carried sideways by the wind. My hair streams out all around me. I bend down, twist one of the speakers’ wires, and hold the speaker up like a megaphone. Then I wait.

At first no one notices me. But soon one face turns up in my direction, probably attracted by the brightness of my hair, and then another face, and then another. A small group. It grows into several dozen, all of them pointing up at me. The roars and angry chants below begin to subside. I wonder if June sees me. The soldiers lining other roofs have their guns fixed on me—but they don’t shoot. They’re stuck with me in this awkward, tense limbo. I want to run. To do what I always do, have always
done,
for the last five years of my life. Escape, flee into the shadows.

But this time, I stand my ground. I’m tired of running.

The crowd grows quieter as more and more turn their faces up to see me. At first, I hear incredulous chatter. Even some laughs.
That can’t be Day,
I imagine them muttering to one another.
Some imposter.
But the longer I stay here, the louder they get. Everyone has turned toward me now. My eyes wander over to where Anden is on his balcony; even he’s looking at me now. I hold my breath, hoping that he doesn’t decide to order me shot.
Is
he on my side?

Then they’re all chanting my name.
Day! Day! Day!
I can hardly believe my ears. They’re chanting for me, and their voices echo down every block and reach every street. I stay frozen where I am, still clinging to my makeshift megaphone, unable to tear my eyes away from the crowds. I lift the speaker to my lips.

“People of the Republic!” I shout. “Do you hear me?”

My words blare out from every speaker in the square—probably every speaker in the country, for all I know. It startles me. The people below let out a cheer that makes the ground tremble. The soldiers must’ve gotten a hurried order from someone in Congress, because I see some of them hoist their weapons higher. A single bullet zips through the air and hits the glass, sparking as it goes. I don’t move.

The Elector makes a quick gesture at the guards standing with him, and they all press a hand to their ears and talk into their mikes. Maybe he’s telling them not to harm me. I force myself to believe it.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I shout in the direction that the lone bullet had come from.
Keep yourself steady.
The people’s cheers turn into a roar. “You don’t want an uprising, do you, Congress?”

Day! Day! Day!

“Today, Congress, I give you an ultimatum.” My eyes shift to the JumboTrons. “You’ve arrested a number of Patriots for a crime
you
are responsible for. Release them.
All
of them. If you don’t, I will call your people to action, and you
will
have a revolution on your hands. But probably not the kind you were hoping for.” The civilians scream out their approval. The chants continue at a feverish pitch.

“People of the Republic.” They cheer me on as I continue. “Listen to me. Today, I give all of
you
an ultimatum.”

Their chants go on until they realize that I’ve fallen silent, and then they too begin to quiet down. I hold the speaker closer. “My name is Day.” My voice fills the air. “I’ve fought the same injustices that you’re here to protest right now. I’ve suffered the same things you’ve suffered. Like you, I’ve watched my friends and family die at the hands of Republic soldiers.” I blink away the memories that threaten to overtake me.
Keep going.
“I’ve been starved, beaten, and humiliated. I’ve been tortured, insulted, and suppressed. I’ve lived in the slums with you. I’ve risked my life for you. And you’ve risked
your
lives for me.
We
have risked our lives for our country—not the country we live in now, but the country we hope to have. You are all, every single one of you, a
hero.
”

Joyful cheers answer me, even as guards below try in vain to bring down and arrest stragglers, while other soldiers are trying fruitlessly to disable the rewired speaker system. Congress is afraid, I realize. They’re afraid of me, like they’ve always been. So I keep going—I tell the people what had happened to my mother and brothers, and what had happened to June. I tell them about the Patriots, and about the Senate’s attempt to assassinate Anden. I hope Razor’s listening to all this and seething. Throughout it all, the crowd’s attention never wavers.

“Do you trust me?” I shout. The crowd answers with a unified voice. The sea of people and their deafening roars are overwhelming. If my mother was still here, if Dad and John were here, would they be smiling up at me right now? I take a deep, shuddering breath.
Finish what you came here to do.
I focus on the people, and on the young Elector. I gather my strength. Then I say the words I never ever thought I’d say.

“People of the Republic,
know your enemy.
Your enemy is the Republic’s way of life, the laws and traditions that hold us down, the government that brought us here. The late Elector.
Congress.
” I raise my arm and point toward Anden. “But the new Elector is . . .
Not. Your. Enemy!
” The people grow silent. Their eyes are forever fixed on me. “You think your Congress wants to end the Trials, or help your families? It’s a
lie.
” I point at Anden when I say this, willing myself, for the first time, to trust him. “The Elector is young and ambitious, and he is
not his father.
He wants to fight for you, just as
I
fight for you, but first he needs you to give him that chance. And if you put your might behind him and lift him up, he will lift us up. He will change things for us, one step at a time. He can build that country we all hope we can have. I came here tonight for you all—and for
him.
Do you trust me?” I lift my voice:
“People of the Republic, do you trust me?”

Silence. Then, a few chants. More join in. They raise their eyes and fists to me, their shouts ceaseless, a tide of change. “Then raise your voices for your Elector, as I have, and he will raise his for you!”

The cheers are deafening, drowning out anything and everything. The young Elector keeps his eyes on me, and I realize, at last, that June is right. I don’t want to see the Republic collapse. I want to see it change.

T
WO DAYS HAVE PASSED.
O
R, MORE PRECISELY, FIFTY-
two hours and eight minutes have passed since Day climbed to the top of the Capitol Tower and announced his support for our Elector. Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see him up there, his hair gleaming like a beacon of light against the night, his words ringing out clear and strong across the city and the country. Whenever I dream, I can feel the burn of his last kiss on my lips, the fire and fear behind his eyes. Every person in the Republic heard him that night. He gave power back to Anden and Anden won over the country, all in one blow.

This is my second day in a hospital chamber on the outskirts of Denver. The second afternoon without Day at my side. In a room several doors down, Day is undergoing the same tests, both to ensure his health and make sure the Colonies didn’t implant any monitoring devices in his head. He’s going to be reunited with his brother at any minute. My doctor has arrived to check on my recovery—but he won’t be doing it in any sort of privacy. In fact, when I study my room’s ceiling, I see security cameras at every corner, broadcasting my image live to the public. The Republic is afraid to give people even the slightest sense that Day and I aren’t being taken care of.

A monitor on the wall shows me Day’s chamber. It is the
only
reason I agreed to be separated from him for this long. I wish I could talk to him. As soon as they stop running X-rays and sensors on me, I’m putting on a mike.

“Good morning to you, Ms. Iparis,” my doctor says to me as nurses dot my skin with six sensors. I mumble a greeting in return, but my attention stays on the cam footage of Day talking to his own doctor. His arms are crossed in a defiant stance and his expression’s skeptical. Now and then his attention focuses on a spot on the wall that I can’t see. I wonder if he’s watching me through a cam too.

My doctor notices what’s distracting me and wearily answers my question before I can ask it. “You’ll see him soon, Ms. Iparis. Okay? I promise. Now, you know the drill. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.”

I bite down my frustration and do as he says. Lights flicker behind my eyelids, and then a cold, tingly sensation runs through my brain and down my spine. They put a gel-like mask over my mouth and nose. I always have to tell myself not to panic during this sequence, to fight down the claustrophobia and feeling of drowning.
They’re just testing me,
I repeat quietly. They’re testing me for any remnants of Colonies brainwashing, for mental stability, for whether or not the Elector—the Republic—can trust me fully. That’s all.

Hours go by. Finally, it stops, and the doctor tells me I can open my eyes again.

“Well done, Iparis,” he says as he types something out on his notepad. “Your cough may linger, but I think you’ve survived the worst of your illness. You can stay longer if you’d like”—he smiles at the exasperated frown on my face—“but if you’d prefer to be discharged to your new apartment, we can arrange that today as well. At any rate, the glorious Elector is anxious to speak with you before you leave here.”

“How is Day?” I ask. It’s difficult for me to keep the impatience out of my voice. “When can I see him?”

The doctor frowns. “Didn’t we just discuss this? Day will be released shortly after you. First he’ll need to see his brother.”

I study his face carefully. There’s a reason the doctor hesitated just now—something about Day’s recovery. I can see the subtle twitch under the doctor’s facial muscles. He knows something I don’t.

The doctor snaps me back to reality. He drops his notepad to his side, straightens, and plants an artificial smile on his face. “Well, that’s all for today. Tomorrow we’ll begin your formal integration back into the Republic, with your new career assignment. The Elector will arrive in a few minutes, and you’ll have some time beforehand to regain your bearings.” With that, he and the nurses take their sensors and machines and leave me alone.

I sit on my bed and keep my eyes on the door. A dark red cloak is wrapped around my shoulders, but I still don’t feel entirely warm in this room. By the time Anden comes in to see me, I’m shivering.

He steps inside with his signature grace, wearing silent dark boots and black scarf and uniform, his curls of hair perfectly trimmed, thin-rimmed glasses sitting neatly on his nose. When he sees me, he smiles and salutes. The gesture reminds me painfully of Metias, and I have to focus down on my feet for a few seconds to compose myself. Fortunately, he seems to think I’m bowing.

“Elector,” I greet him.

He smiles; his green eyes sweep over me. “How are you feeling, June?”

I smile back. “Well enough.”

Anden laughs a little and lowers his head. He steps closer, but he doesn’t try to sit next to me on the bed. I can still see the attraction in his eyes, the way he lingers on every word I say and every move I make. Surely he must have heard rumors by now about my relationship with Day? If he knows, though, he doesn’t reveal it. “The Republic,” he continues, embarrassed that I’ve caught him staring, “that is, the government has decided that you are fit to return to the military with your original rank intact. As an Agent, here in Denver.”

So, I’m not going back to Los Angeles. The last I heard, LA’s quarantine had been lifted after Anden began an investigation into the Senate’s traitors—and both Razor and Commander Jameson were arrested for treason. I can only imagine how much Jameson hates Day and me now . . . even the thought of what the fury on her face must look like sends a chill down my spine.

“Thank you,” I say after a while. “I’m very grateful.”

Anden waves a hand in the air. “No need. You and Day have done me a great service.”

I give him a quick, casual salute. Already Day’s influence is being felt—after his impromptu speech, Congress and the military obeyed Anden in allowing protesters to return unpunished to their homes and releasing the Patriots who had been arrested during the assassination attempt (under monitored conditions). If the Senate didn’t fear Day before, they do now. He has the power for the time being to ignite a full-scale revolution with only a few choice words.

“But . . .”
Anden’s volume drops and he pulls his hands out of his pockets to cross them in front of his chest. “I have a different proposition for you. I think you deserve a more important position than
Agent.
”

A memory surfaces of when I was on that train with him, of the unspoken offer hanging on his lips. “What kind of position?”

For the first time, he decides to sit down with me on the edge of my bed. He’s so close now that I can feel the light whisper of his breath on my skin and see the stubble shadowing his chin. “June,” he begins, “the Republic has never been more unstable than it is now. Day brought it back from the brink of collapse, but I’m still ruling during dangerous times. Many of the Senators are battling for control amongst themselves, and many people in the country are hoping for me to make a wrong move.” Anden falls silent for a second. “One moment won’t keep me in the people’s favor forever, and I can’t hold the country together alone.”

I know he’s telling the truth. I can see the exhaustion in his face, and the frustration that comes with being responsible for his country.

“When my father was a young Elector, he and my mother ruled together. The Elector and his Princeps. He was never more powerful than he was during that time. I’d like an ally too, someone smart and strong whom I can trust with more power than anyone else in Congress.” My breathing turns shallow as I take in the offer he’s circling around. “I want a partner who has her finger on the pulse of the people, someone extraordinarily talented at everything she does, and someone who shares my ideas about how to create a nation. Of course, one couldn’t go from Agent to Princeps in the blink of an eye. One would need intense training, instruction, and education. An opportunity to grow into the position over the course of many years,
decades,
to first learn as a Senator and then as the Senate’s leader. This is not training to bestow lightly, especially upon someone without Senate experience. Of course, there would be other Princeps-Elects shadowing me as well.” He pauses here; his tone shifts. “What do you think?”

I shake my head, still not quite sure of what exactly Anden is offering. There’s the chance to be the Princeps—a position second only to the Elector. I would spend almost every waking moment of my life in Anden’s company, shadowing his every step for at least ten years. I would never see Day. This offer makes the life I’d imagined with him waver unsteadily. Is Anden offering this promotion purely based on what he thinks of my capabilities—or is he letting his emotions influence him, promoting me in the hopes that he might get a chance to spend more time with me? And how can I
possibly
compete with other potential Princeps-Elects, some of whom will probably be decades my senior, perhaps already Senators? I take a deep breath, then try to ask him in a diplomatic way. “Elector,” I begin. “I don’t think—”

“I won’t pressure you,” he interrupts, then swallows and smiles hesitantly. “You are absolutely free to turn this down. And you can be a Princeps without . . .” Is Anden blushing? “You don’t have to,” he says instead. “I—the Republic—would only be grateful if you did.”

“I don’t know if I have that kind of talent,” I say. “You need someone so much better than I could ever be.”

Anden takes both of my hands in his. “You were born to shake the Republic. June, there is no one better.”