“I was going to say, it sounds like you’ve forgotten what life in the Parish is like.”
The decanter clangs against my unused goblet as he puts the wine back on the shelf. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. I survived Recruitment, remember?” Half his drink disappears in one gulp.
“And you shouldn’t have had to. The whole Recruitment process is barbaric.”
“The Recruitment is a training method, Lucky. Five candidates who fit a certain profile are chosen to bypass the standard draft and given the opportunity to serve in an accelerated Special Forces program. Facing the Trials fosters competitiveness in those candidates who have demonstrated exemplary strength and would be an asset to our military, while at the same time sending a very important message to our citizens.”
“Yeah. Be careful who you love as it may cost you your life,” I grumble. “Sounds like you’ve been memorizing the marketing manuals.”
“No. It’s a much more complex message than that. Don’t value personal attachments over civic duty; doing so could cause our society to become fragile and susceptible to utter collapse, like it was before the Ash Wars. Is that so wrong, Lucky? And, if the effect of the Recruitment is to diminish the chance of the populace coming together and rebelling against the government-by neutralizing potential threats through recruitment and frightening people into avoiding emotional attachments-that’s just an added bonus, right?”
He lets loose a sigh. “The Trials weed out the weak links. There are limitless opportunities for those who are resourceful, independent. Look at what I’ve achieved.”
I throw up my hands. “Wow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was listening to a public information broadcast on the wireless!” I head back to the couch and drop down, crossing my arms. “The Recruitment is state sanctioned murder.”
He coughs, nearly choking on his second swig of wine. “It’s not murder.” He marches over and plunks down next to me. Scarlet droplets from his glass bleed onto the white marble floor. “Every Recruit is given an equal opportunity to advance to the next level of their training.” He holds up his hand before I can protest. “Yes, it’s unfortunate that the Recruit who achieves the lowest score after each round must undergo the Culling-”
“Stop sterilizing it!” I hug my knees. “The loser of each trial has to choose between the lives of two people they love, and if they can’t do that, all three of them die. That’s sick.”
The color of Cassius’s face matches what’s left of his drink. “Yes, they die. Is that what you want to hear, Lucky? Is that raw enough for you?”
“How can you defend the system? They made you choose your mother’s life over your father’s. What kind of people would make a kid do something like that?”
The glass drops from his hand, shattering into a million pieces. A ruby pool spreads at his feet, sliding toward the poster lying nearby. As he watches it, his face turns to stone.
“I tried to save them both, Lucky. I’ve replayed that last round in my head every night since.” He turns to me. “You don’t know how much I wanted to be the first Recruit to ever make it through every round with both of their Incentives intact and become an Imposer.” Pools well in his eyes. “My father … he understood at the end. I … I saw it on his face. He wanted me to be strong, beat the others.”
His expression melts and I see the Cassius I remember, a frightened sixteen-year-old selected during the Recruitment ceremony two years ago. “Oh, Lucky, why couldn’t I save him too?”
I touch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You had to go through something no one should ever have to. Don’t you see? That’s how they break you.”
He tears away. “But they haven’t broken me. Don’t you see? I can beat them at their own game. Now that I’m Prefect, I can change things, make a difference. And to do that, I need you.”
“For what?” I lean back against the cushions.
He scoops up the poster. It unspools, the images now tainted red. “These insurgents. So far every attempt to infiltrate their nest has met with failure.”
“I still don’t understand what that has to do with-”
He rolls the poster back up. “This propaganda that was in your possession when you were taken into custody-”
“I already told you, it’s not mine. You have to believe me.” My pulse thrums in my ears.
Cassius smiles and squeezes my knee. “Of course I believe you. I know you of all people would never lie to me.”
I shift my weight, but I can’t get comfortable.
He leans in. “All I’m asking is that you seek these rebels out, ingratiate yourself to their cause.”
“So you can go ahead and flush them out? They’ll be executed. You know that.” Digory’s face haunts my mind. “I won’t be a part of that, Cass. I don’t want to get involved in this civil war. All I care about is my brother being safe.”
He sighs and lets go of me. “You totally misunderstand my intentions. I want to put an end to the violence. There’s no reason why both sides can’t come to the table and work through these issues in peace.”
I shift onto my knees. “You aren’t going to arrest them?”
He swivels toward me, resting on his folded legs. “Things are going to be different, now that I’m Prefect, I swear it.” His fingers tangle with mine. “I want what you want. Things to change. If these rebels continue to operate on their own, then they will incur the Establishment’s wrath. Prime Minister Talon will wipe them out. I can prevent this, but to do so, I need you to act as a conduit.” His smile is soothing. “You’re a Parish boy. Hardworking, well-liked. You fit the profile of what the rebels look for.”
My eyes narrow. “And in return, you’ll protect Cole by making sure I’m not recruited?”
He releases a long breath. “This isn’t a quid pro quo, Lucky.” He leans in, his eyes taking my own hostage. “I’d have prevented you from being recruited no matter what.”
“You promise, all you want to do is talk to them, Cass? I mean, that’s it? No interrogations? No torture?”
“None of that.” He bounces off the sofa and pulls me to my feet. “I pledge to you on what we mean to each other, which is the one thing in this entire world that I value the most.”
All my unease, my fears, evaporate with those words, and I feel ashamed for ever having doubted him. I feel myself glowing. He does still care. He’s still my Cassius …
And the idea of a truce, of real change in the lives of the Parish’s citizens, is too tempting. I can talk to Digory first and explain Cass’s offer. He’ll know what to do. And if he refuses, no one gets hurt. It’s not like I’d be getting involved in anything.
I smile. “All right. I’ll see what I can do. But it’ll take time. I can’t promise anything.”
Cass grins, brushing the hair from my eyes. “Just knowing that you’re going to make the effort means everything to me, Lucky.” He hugs me tight. “It’ll be just like old times. You and me against the world.” His smile is infectious.
“Yep. You and me,” I say.
“Which reminds me.” He reaches into his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pulls out a silver chain. Dangling from it is a pendant, bearing an engraving of two hands clasped together. He moves behind me and places it around my neck.
I hold up the medallion and marvel at every detail. “It’s magnificent, Cass! I can’t accept-”
“Nonsense! I had it molded from the silver pin I was awarded as the last Recruit left standing.” He snaps the clasp together. “The thought of one day giving this to you has kept me going the last two years.” He moves around in front of me, his eyes admiring. “Promise me you’ll wear it always.”
I grip the chain. “I promise.”