She sat up blinking in the sudden glare of the lights. She’d been asleep for hours, that same tormented sleep she’d been experiencing since her father was shot. She shielded her eyes and searched for a face on the dark figure that had entered her room.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
“It’s me.” The Shepherd. She should’ve known. He was the only one who visited her now, except the Farnham country matron. She put her hands up to her hair, which was blond now. She’d looked in the mirror once the matron was finished with her and been astounded by how stark the transformation was. The color brought out completely different features in her face, and she understood why they’d done it. With her hair this color, she was nearly unrecognizable. “Quick, get up and get dressed. We leave at dawn.”
“Leave for where?” she asked.
“Columbia City.”
“What? No!” Why would they bring her back there? They were supposed to give her a new life. She supposed that would mean she’d have to hide out in Farnham forever, a prospect she didn’t relish, but it was far preferable to being dragged back home. “You promised—”
“Don’t worry, we’re not handing you over to the KES, if that’s what you’re imagining.” The Shepherd took his customary seat on the desk chair, turning it around so that his arms rested on the chair back. “We have a different plan. But we’ve had to move up the date. It seems things have not gone exactly as we hoped back at the Citadel.”
“Mind telling me what that plan is, exactly?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, smiling his inscrutable smile. “Juliana, what do you know about parallel universes?”
THIRTY-TWO
“Wow, Juli.” Callum whistled. “You look amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I told him, reaching up to straighten his bow tie. I was trying my best to flatter and flirt, but my heart simply wasn’t in it. I was sick of playing Juliana, especially the Juliana Callum wanted me to be. I had far too much weighing on my mind, and on my heart. My thoughts kept careening back and forth between what Lucas had told me and Thomas’s predicament. I had, for a brief moment, actually
considered
Lucas’s offer, which revolted me, but I would’ve been crazy not to. It would be crazier still, however, to trust Lucas and abandon Thomas to his fate, whatever that was, not to mention leave Callum and the queen and all the people who were counting on me. Well, not
me
—Juliana. But at this point, what was the difference?
Gloria had chosen my dress, a long draped gown with a dramatic leather sunburst collar covered in silver beaded appliqué, and a wide leather belt at the waist. Callum was coordinating by wearing a silver bow tie with his tuxedo. His hand rested at the base of my spine as we stood together in the full-length mirror. I took a deep breath and let it out. Gloria insisted I wear a formal tiara for the gala, so I’d picked out the prettiest one I could find, a garland of wild Sweet Briar diamond roses mounted in silver. It was heavier than it looked and was already starting to give me a headache.
“Can we go back to the beach?” Callum whispered in my ear. I smiled at his reflection in the mirror, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“We’re late,” I said, moving toward the door. He stayed put. “Cal, are you coming?”
He tugged at his collar. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this kind of stuff.”
“You will,” I assured him. The question was: would I?
“You’re late, Juliana,” the queen scolded. She was resplendent in a long purple tulle gown, her hair piled high upon her head.
I could hear the low murmur of a thousand voices coming from inside the ballroom. The guests had arrived and were waiting. On the queen’s signal, two porters swung the doors open. A great, booming voice announced the queen by her title—“Her Majesty Evelyn, Queen Regent of the United Commonwealth of Columbia”—and she stepped over the threshold.
Then it was my and Callum’s turn. The voice, which was coming from speakers placed high above the crowd, declared us as well: “Her Royal Highness Juliana, Crown Princess of the United Commonwealth of Columbia” followed by “His Royal Highness Callum, Prince of Farnham and the Western Territories.” My stomach turned at the sight of all the people watching with rapt attention, and for the millionth time I wished that Thomas was at my side.
Callum took my hand and squeezed it. Though I wished he was someone else, his touch was comforting. We walked into the grand ballroom and the throng of people set upon us.
The good thing about the fact that most of the gala attendees were strangers was that nobody expected Juliana to know who they were. They all introduced themselves, grinning from ear to ear, declaring themselves delighted at the forthcoming union between Callum and Juliana. Callum handled it better than I expected, switching on like a lightbulb and basking in the glow of all the adoration. So much for social anxiety.
After everyone had gotten to speak to us, dinner was served. The banquet table was as long as the room, and Callum and I had to sit at opposite ends, to spread out the honor of speaking with us, so I wasn’t able to talk to him. I spent most of the meal looking for Thomas among the group of KES agents patrolling the perimeters of the room, but I didn’t see him. Not that I thought I would. I only hoped.
When the meal was over, the dancing began. I wasn’t in a dancing mood, but I was forced to spend hours spinning across the floor with an endless stream of male guests. I tried as hard as possible to be cordial and captivating, but my mind kept wandering as they droned on about matters of state I couldn’t care less about.
When my last partner finally released me, I looked for Callum in the crowd, spying him dancing with a refined-looking old woman who was half his height. They made a ridiculous pair, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was doing his best to charm her, and she was laughing at his whispered jokes. I was about to go over and cut in when someone grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me through a side door into a nearby alcove.
“Hey!” I cried as a door shut behind me. The voices in the ballroom died away completely as the latch caught. I looked around in a panic, expecting to see Lucas or someone even worse. Instead, to my surprise—and great relief—I found myself facing Dr. Moss. He was holding a file folder in his hand, his eyes dramatically big behind the thick lenses of his glasses.
“Dr. Moss, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to have scared you, Ms. Lawson, but I’ve discovered something very important and I thought I should show it to you as soon as possible,” he said, indicating the folder.
“That’s all right,” I said. “I’m just glad it’s you. What do you have there?”
“I finally got a hold of Dr. March,” Dr. Moss told me. “I was stumped as to the cause of your problem, but sometimes when Dr. March and I put our heads together, great things occur. For example, your anchor. I couldn’t have invented it without him.”
I gave the physicist a tight, insincere smile. If I ever met Dr. March, I was going to have a couple of things to say to him. “So? Does he know why I’m seeing the visions of Juliana?”
“He had a theory,” Dr. Moss said. He paused, carefully considering his next words. “How much do you know about your parents, Ms. Lawson?”
“What’s this got to do with my parents?”
“Possibly everything. Go on, tell me about them.” Dr. Moss regarded me with increasing excitement.
“Um, I don’t know. They were both physicists. Brilliant physicists,” I said with pride. “They died when I was seven, in a car accident. Is that what you mean?”
“Who do you live with now? On Earth.”
“My granddad,” I told him.
“Maternal or paternal?”
“Maternal. Dr. Moss, I don’t understand. Why are you asking me about my parents?”
“Have you ever met any of your father’s family members? Parents? Siblings? Cousins?” Dr. Moss pressed.
“No. His parents were dead by the time I was born. They were both only children, and so was my dad. His only family was my mom and me. Why?”
“What was his name?” Dr. Moss’s fingers worried the edges of the folder he was holding, bending and crushing it.
“George Lawson.”
“Did he have any other names?”
“Of course not.” Why would my father have had other names? He was a scientist, not a spy.
“Did you know that your father has no analog in this world?”
“Yes,” I said. “Thomas said that happens sometimes, that people don’t necessarily have an analog in every universe.”
“That’s true. But there’s another possible explanation.” Dr. Moss opened the folder. There was a photograph on top, clipped to a handful of documents, parts of which were blacked out. “Is this your father, Ms. Lawson?”
“Yes,” I breathed. The man in the picture was unmistakably my dad. “What is this? Why do you have it?” The file read:
CLASSIFIED: OPERATION LOOKING GLASS.
“Dr. March and I concluded, after exhaustive analysis of the available data, that the only way in which you could be seeing Juliana through the tether is if you were born with a connection to both worlds,” Dr. Moss explained. “And the only way that we know of for that to be true is if you are a crosser.”
“What’s a crosser?” I demanded. “And why does the KES have my father’s picture in one of their classified files?”
“ ‘Crosser’ is a term I invented this afternoon to describe someone whose genealogy originates from more than one universe,” Dr. Moss said.
“This afternoon?”
He gave me a sheepish smile. “Well, you’re the first one we’d ever heard of. There was no official term for the phenomenon, but of course we needed one.”
“Of course,” I said in disbelief. “Go on.”
“In order for you to be experiencing the visions, one of your parents had to have been born in Aurora. It looks to have been your father. His real name was George Anderson, and he was employed as a research scientist by the KES. He was sent through the tandem on a top-secret assignment, to work with Earth physicists in order to sabotage their attempts to develop the many-worlds technologies that we were trying to perfect here at the Citadel.”
I shook my head. “That’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than possible—it’s true. He worked for the KES for several years,” Dr. Moss said. “Until he went AWOL.”
“My father was from Earth,” I insisted. There was absolutely no way he had any connection to this awful world.
“I’m afraid that’s not so,” Dr. Moss said with regret in his voice. “You see, I knew your father. I didn’t realize it when I first met you because he had changed his name, but before he was assigned to Operation Looking Glass, he worked with me in my lab. He was, as you say, brilliant. Beyond his years. I’m sorry to hear that he’s no longer with us.”
I was crying now, a stream of silent tears pouring down my face, surely smearing my makeup. But I didn’t care about that.
“Oh, there, there, dear.” Dr. Moss gave my shoulder an awkward pat. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, I don’t think so.” It was Thomas I wanted, Thomas I needed to talk to. He was the only person I could tell about this, the only person who would understand what it meant and how it made me feel. “I’m sorry, Dr. Moss, but I need to be alone.”
I kept thinking about my mother. How would she have felt if she knew that she had married an imposter, an invader from another world who’d come to Earth with the express purpose of destroying her work? Because that was where my parents had met, on a research project at Princeton University.
Unless she knew
. But she couldn’t have … could she? I tried to put myself in my mother’s shoes, but I knew so little about my parents that I couldn’t imagine how my mother would’ve reacted to the news that George Lawson, gifted physicist, beloved husband, had been nothing more than an alien from Aurora. And if she had known the truth, had Granddad also known? Was this the mysterious reason why he’d always disliked my father?
“I understand. I should go now. I’m not supposed to be in the Castle, and if somebody sees me …”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “Thank you, Dr. Moss. For … for telling me, I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Please take care of yourself, Ms. Lawson.”
“I will.” He gave me a sad smile, then left the way we’d come, vanishing into the crowds in the ballroom.
I brushed the tears from my eyes. I didn’t think I could face the queen or Callum in my condition, and didn’t want to.
I have to get out of here,
I thought. I couldn’t go back into the party—I was a mess. I didn’t want to go to Juliana’s bedroom, just in case someone came looking for me.
I could only think of one place no one would find me.
The king’s room was dark and cold. The only sounds were the occasional mechanical beeps from the machines that measured his vitals and his own raspy breathing. For whatever reason—perhaps it was my state of mind, or the fact that I now had bigger things to be afraid of than the king’s oddities—I felt safer in this room than ever before.
I took a seat and closed my eyes, relishing the silent company of Juliana’s father. I wondered what he would make of me. It was obvious from the fact that one of the Operation Looking Glass files had been in his possession that he’d been aware of the existence of parallel universes, specifically of Earth, and that he had been party to my own father’s assignment. But had he known about me? Was he aware I wasn’t his daughter? A few days ago, I would’ve said no, but now I couldn’t be sure. He’d led me to the Angel Eyes file, even if I hadn’t understood. But perhaps I’d been wrong all along. Maybe his mutterings
were
random after all. Had I been so desperate for meaning that I’d manufactured a pattern that didn’t exist?
“I found it,” I told him, squeezing his hand. “I found the map. Except I don’t understand. What
is
it?” But he didn’t answer. He never did, and he never would.
I switched on a lamp and picked up
The Odyssey.
I began to read, to tell the king of Odysseus’s reunion with his long-lost son.