“You mean punishing him.”
“No. I mean it’s time to stop punishing yourself for loving him. It’s not a betrayal of your parents.”
Clarke stiffened. “You didn’t know them. You have no idea what they’d think.”
“I know they wanted whtheont sizat was best for you. They were willing to do something they knew was wrong in order to keep you safe.” She paused. “Just like Wells.”
Clarke sighed and tucked her legs up underneath her, sitting on Thalia’s bed just like she used to back in their cell. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know if I can fight this anymore. Hating him is exhausting.”
“You should talk to him.”
Clarke nodded. “I will.”
“No, I mean right now.” Thalia’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Go talk to him.”
“What? It’s late.”
“I’m sure he’s lying wide-awake, thinking about you.…”
Clarke unfolded her legs, then rose to her feet. “Fine,” she said, “if that’s what it takes to get you to be quiet and rest.”
She walked across the tent, playfully rolling her eyes at her friend as she pulled the flap aside. She stepped into the clearing and paused, wondering if she was making a mistake.
But it was too late to turn around. Her heart was beating so fast, it seemed to have a momentum of its own, pounding a frantic message to Wells through the darkness. I’m coming.
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CHAPTER 27
Wells
Wells stared up at the sky. He’d never felt at ease in the overcrowded tents, and after what had happened tonight, the thought of being crammed next to people who’d been ready to tear Octavia apart was unbearable. Despite the cold, he liked falling asleep looking at the same stars he’d seen from his bed at home. He loved the moments when the moon disappeared behind a cloud and it became too dark to see the outlines of the trees. The sky would seem to stretch all the way down to the ground, creating the impression they weren’t on Earth at all but back up among the stars. It always gave him a small pain to open his eyes in the morning and find them gone.
Yet even the sky wasn’t enough to quiet Wells’s mind tonight. He pushed himself into a seated position, wincing as he pried his blanket off the scattered rocks and branches. A rustling in a nearby tree caught his attention and he rose to his feet, craning his neck for a better look.
Wells stared in wonder as the tree, which had never boasted a single blossom since they’d landed, burst into bloom. Glimmering pink petals unfurled from pods he hadn’t noticed before, like fingertips reaching out in the dark. They were beautiful. Wells rose onto his toes, stretched his arms above his head, and wrapped his fingers around a stem.
“Wells?”
He spun around and saw Clarke standing a few meters away.
“What are you doing?”
He was about to ask her the same question, but instead he walked silently toward her and slipped the flower into her hand. She stared at it, and for a moment he thought she might shove it back at him. But to his surprise and relief, she looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” They stared at each other for a moment. “You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, and she shook her head.
Wells sat down on an exposed tree root, which was just large enough for two, and gestured for her to sit besid si mhimselfe him.
After a moment she sank down, keeping a sliver of empty space between them. “How’s Thalia doing?” he asked.
“Much better. I’m so thankful Octavia came forward.” She looked down and ran her finger along the blossom. “I just can’t believe they’re leaving tomorrow.”
There was a note of regret in her voice that made Wells’s stomach clench. “I thought you’d be happy to see her go, after what she put you through.”
Clarke was quiet for a moment. “Good people can make mistakes,” she said slowly. She looked up, and her eyes met Wells’s. “It doesn’t mean you stop caring about them.”
For a long moment, all they could hear was the wind rustling the leaves, the silence filling with all the words that had been left unsaid. The apologies that could never begin to convey his sorrow.
The trial of Phoenix’s two most famous scientists had turned into the event of the year. There were more people gathered in the Council chamber than had ever shown up for a lecture, or any event other than the Remembrance Ceremony.
But Wells was only vaguely aware of the audience. The disgust he’d felt at their morbid curiosity—like Romans waiting for bloodshed at the Colosseum—faded away the moment his eyes landed on the girl sitting alone in the front row. He hadn’t seen Clarke since the night she’d confided in him about her parents’ research. Wells had told his father, who weighed the information carefully. As Wells had expected, the Chancellor had known nothing about the experiments and had immediately launched an inquiry. Yet the investigation had taken a terrible turn Wells hadn’t expected, and now Clarke’s parents were going to face the Council on criminal charges. Guilty and terrified, Wells had spent the past week desperate to find Clarke, but his deluge of messages had gone unanswered, and when he went to her flat, he found it sealed off by guards.
Her expression was blank as she watched the Council members take their seats. But then she turned and saw Wells. Her eyes locked with his, her gaze filled with hatred so intense that it sent bile shooting up from his stomach.
Wells shrank back into his seat in the third row. He’d only wanted his father to stop her parents’ research, to put an end to Clarke’s misery. He never imagined they’d end up on trial for their lives.
Two guards escorted Clarke’s mother to a bench in the front. She kept her chin high as she surveyed the Council, but then her eyes settled on her daughter, and her face fell.
Clarke jumped to her feet and said something Wells couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter. The sad smile on her mother’s face was enough to cleave Wells’s heart in two.
Another pair of guards led her father in, and the trial began.
A female member of the Council opened the proceedings by giving an overview of the investigation. According to the Griffins, she reported, they had been ordered by Vice Chancellor Rhodes to conduct human radiation trials, which Rhodes vehemently denied.
A strange numbness spread over Wells as he watched the Vice Chancellor stand, his face grave as font>s he explained that while he’d approved their request for a new lab, he never said a word about experimenting on children.
Everyone’s voices seemed very far away—the fragments of the Council members’ questions and the Griffins’ replies that reached his ears distorted, like sound waves from a distant galaxy. Wells heard the crowd’s gasps before his brain had time to process what they were reacting to.
Then, suddenly, the Council was voting.
The first guilty broke through the haze that had settled over Wells. He turned to look at Clarke, who was sitting still and rigid.
“Guilty.”
No. Wells thought. No, please.
“Guilty.” The word echoed down the table until it was his father’s turn. He cleared his throat, and for a brief moment, Wells believed there was a chance. That his father would figure out a way to turn the tide.
“Guilty.”