It takes me a moment to realize that Talon has just called me up onto the stage. Everything—her voice, the crowd—it all sounds muffled, as if someone has a pillow over my head and is suffocating me in my sleep. I force my limbs to move, but it feels like I’m slogging through a bog.
The bitter taste of blood oozes into my mouth from the teeth digging into my lower lip. It seeps down the desert of my throat.
I move toward Cassius. He takes my hand in his, but I can barely feel it. He leans forward, his breath against my ear. “I have a little surprise for you,” he whispers.
I look up. Behind him, Prior Delvecchio and another one of the Anchorites move apart, revealing the figure standing between them.
Cole.
TWELVE
He smiles at me and waves.
The shock tears through the shroud of numbness enveloping me. Instead of everything moving in slow-motion, it’s as if things are speeding up. This can’t be happening what have I done he’s going to die right here in front of everyone and it’s all my fault oh mother forgive me I failed you both I fucked things up murdered my own brother all my struggles to save him were for nothing I’m nothing but a dumb stupid shit oh sheesh oh no cole I’m so sorry I’m so—
Cassius reaches in and plucks the BMP pin from my uniform. He may as well be ripping my still-beating heart from my chest.
I clutch at his hand. “No! You can’t take that—give it back!”
He gapes at me as if I’m crazy. Maybe I am. “What’s going on with you?” He squeezes the whisper out through a gritted smile.
I risk a glance at the fountain. Cage’s backing away from the Imposers. His hand’s reaching into his pocket. The same pocket that holds the triggering device…
On the stage, Cole’s looking at me, his eyes brimming with confusion and fear. He mouths the words what’s wrong? The other trainees are fidgeting in their stances. Arrah’s shaking her head at me.
Cassius tries to pull his hand away. His mild annoyance has turned to anger. “Let go of me, Lucian.”
But I don’t. I can’t.
My eyes lock with Cassius’s. I hear Prime Minister Talon’s voice. “Is there a problem, Prefect?”
The wave of fury in her voice drowns out the hubbub of the crowd. Her bodyguards move in on me…
The Imposers at the fountain draw their weapons at Cage’s team. Cage is nothing but a blur as he shoves one Imposer against the other and whips out the gleaming black remote.
“Stop him! He’s got a bomb!” someone yells.
Screams and shouts penetrate the crowd.
“Give it to me!” I shriek at Cassius, even as my fist connects with his jaw and I rip the BMP free from his grasp. He tumbles backwards.
Cage’s jaw drops. He stares at me in horror for a moment, then aims the remote at the stage. The guards lunge for me. But before they can tackle me, I hurl the BMP toward the only place I’m sure will prevent it from being triggered.
Right at the fountain. Right at Cage and his team.
They didn’t take the blocker. If Cage triggers it, they’ll die.
A heavy weight slams into my back. I collapse onto the stage floor, my head hanging over the edge, my body pinned in place.
Ignoring the pain, I raise my head, looking for Cole. But he’s gone, along with Delvecchio. The Prime Minister’s guards have already escorted her off the stage to safety. In the square, enforcements have arrived, ringing Cage and his team and seizing the remote from his hands. As the Imposers lead them away in energy cuffs, Cage glances my way, his face a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
I’ve betrayed him. I’ve betrayed them all.
I had no choice.
There’s always a choice.
“Put him in the brig,” I hear Cassius say.
Then I give into the pain, the dizziness, the nausea and close my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever open them again, not caring if I ever do.
I wake up alone, in one of the Citadel’s holding cells.
As I flex my jaw and finger the tender skin, all I can think about is Cole. Where is he now?
There’s a bandage covering the crook of my elbow. Once I’ve checked to make sure nothing’s broken, a panicked thought hits me and I check the hidden compartment in my uniform. Digory’s video journal is still there.
Sighing, I pull it out and clutch it in the darkness, a shield against the desperation creeping in. There’s no reason they won’t kill me now, and probably Cole, too.
What the hell can I do now?
After what seems like hours pass with no one making an appearance, I decide to risk it and activate the holocam.
Digory’s face appears once again, eclipsing the dread of loneliness.
“There’s no reason why Lucian has to be recruited,” Digory says, continuing from where I shut the recording off before. “He can be a very valuable ally.”
Valuable ally? Me? We’d barely said two words to each other at that point. Besides, I don’t think Cage, Arrah, and the others would agree.
Digory’s face seems different now. More… I don’t know. Clinical. Detached. “All I need is a little more time with Lucian and I’ll be able to get results. One way or another, as instructed, I’ll find out where his loyalties really lie. If it turns out he can be trusted to join our cause, I’ll personally deliver him.”
My finger jabs the pause button, freezing Digory’s face.
So Digory was working with the rebellion to actively enlist me? And the meeting in the alleyway that morning was scripted, not just random? But why am I so important to the rebellion that they’d actively seek me out? What the hell could I possibly have to offer? It makes no sense.
And if Digory meeting up with me that day wasn’t chance, then what about everything else he said and did? What about the way he felt?
My head throbs and my mouth goes dry. I hesitate for an instant, and then my trembling finger presses the play button.
Digory’s expression grows colder than the blood churning its way through my system. “If it turns out Lucian Spark can’t be trusted, then I’ll make sure he gets recruited myself.”
I pause the playback again. Staring at Digory’s face. Trying to reconcile those last words with the memories of what we meant to each other.
There has to be a rational explanation. Yes, he made this recording shortly after our not-so-fateful first meeting. He didn’t really know me, didn’t have deep feelings for me yet. But he told me, later, that he’d cared for me since way back in school, before we’d ever spoken.
Whatever the truth is, it doesn’t change the look in his eyes. It’s a look I’ve never seen before. Cold, emotionless.
Who is this Digory?
There’s movement, right outside the cell, and I turn off the holocam and jam it back into the hidden pocket just as the cell door opens.
Styles and Renquist barrel in. “We’ve been ordered to take you to the Recruitment Ceremony,” Styles hisses.
My eyes bug out of my skull. “The Recruitment? You mean I’ve been out a whole day?”
Styles snorts. “That’s right. The Recruitment is already underway.” He aims his weapon at me.
Renquist drags me out of the cell and shoves me into a line with Dahlia, Leander, Rodrigo, and Arrah. From the circles under their eyes and the bruises on their skin, they don’t seem to be doing much better than I am.
Leander grabs me by the collar and shoves me against the wall. “This is all your fault! One second we’re getting promoted, the next we’re being hauled off and interrogated by our own people about some plot to assassinate the PM, all on account’a that stunt you pulled on stage! Start talking, Spark!”