Sarah’s expression had grown distant. She looked toward the rows of plants lining the entryway.
“My husband died,” she said quietly. “An accident. Mechanical failure, they said.”
Grey’s expression softened, and he leaned forward. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “It can be overwhelming to lose someone you care about. It’s entirely understandable that you would feel pressured afterward.”
She let out a little laugh, dragging a hand through her hair. “I just can’t stop thinking,” she said, the words bursting from her mouth in a sudden rush, “that if Scipio can see into all our hearts, and controls all the machines of the Tower, he should have seen this coming. And if he did... why couldn’t he save Darren?”
I touched my cheek, remembering what had happened when I had asked the same question of my mother, and looked at Sarah. Grief was radiating from her, overwhelming and thick, and I felt her sadness—and empathized with it, despite the fact that it was putting her in danger. You couldn’t ask questions like that about Scipio, not without being labeled a dissident. And I couldn’t quite agree with her that Scipio was to blame for this. Oh, he was to blame for a lot that was wrong with the Tower, but not that. Scipio wasn’t infallible—he couldn’t predict everything that would happen, which meant he couldn’t keep people from dying.
But he could use their deaths as an excuse to kick those left behind while they were down.
Grey nodded but stayed silent, allowing the woman to continue. I watched him, trying to understand what he was looking for.
“My number dropped,” she explained. “After those thoughts started, it tipped down to a seven. It felt like Scipio was judging me for doubting him. Like my faith wasn’t enough. And I just kept slipping and slipping. Soon my friends would no longer come over and visit me. Now my parents won’t speak to me. The two men in the hall? They were my friends. I thought they’d stick by me no matter what. But once I hit three...”
Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth with her hand, tears leaking from her eyes while her shoulders shook. I couldn’t bear seeing it without doing anything to comfort her and immediately moved to her side, placing my hand on her back and rubbing her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I soothed. “It’s going to be okay.” I looked over at Grey, who gave me a small nod in confirmation, and I exhaled.
“No, it won’t,” the woman keened softly. She reached down, caught the hem of her shirt between two hands, and pulled it up. I gasped, a hand going to my mouth as she revealed a landscape of bruises. A mottled, angry series of marks. No wonder she’d still been able to talk in the hall—her composure in the face of violence had developed after being on the tail end of several beatings. I took in the sight of her bruises, and then gently moved her hand away, pulling her shirt back down for her. She continued her silent sobbing, and I comforted her. Grey stood up and went into her kitchen, returning with a cup of tea in his hands, having used the hot-water spigot and a tea bag he must have found in there.
She accepted it, the cup and liquid sloshing as her hand shook, and she took a moment to collect herself by taking a deep sip.
“Sarah,” Grey started after she’d calmed down some, “it’s not your fault that things have gotten this way, and it’s not your fault that the people in this department are treating you so poorly.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears again, but she nodded, staring down at her hands clasped around the teacup in her lap.
Grey took a deep breath and glanced at me. “Sarah, what would you say if I told you there was a solution?” he asked.
She froze, then turned slowly, gazing up at Grey with apprehensive eyes. I also looked at him, and saw him draw out a small blue pill from his pocket. He wasn’t showing it to her, though; he was just holding it. I stared. Paragon was white. What was that drug? What was he planning to do with it? I was more curious than alarmed—I felt strongly that Grey would never hurt someone in anything other than self-defense.
“I would say,” Sarah said, carefully, “that I have an appointment to receive Medica treatment in two weeks, assuming I can keep my number up. And if I can’t... well... then I’ll be in the Medica a lot sooner, I suppose.”
“Do you want that?” I blurted out. Grey shot me a warning look, but I plowed forward. “Medica treatment changes you,” I said. “It makes you into someone you aren’t. It improves your number, yes, but at a steep cost. Is that truly what you want?”
I wanted to know her answer—it was important to me. Grey and Roark shared my opinion on Medica treatment, but not everyone did. I suspected it was critical to know her opinion in order to determine who would be best suited to us and what we planned to do. After all, she didn’t know the truth of Scipio, but if she was willing to let the Medica dope her so that she could continue being of service to the Tower, then she wasn’t ready to come with us. It was ultimately her decision to make—just like it was mine, Roark’s, and Grey’s.
Sarah gave me a weary look. “Is this a test?” she asked.
I kept my face serious, but kind. “No.”
She looked at Grey, her expression suspicious. “I lost my husband,” she said. “I have been beaten by my neighbors, cast away by my friends and family. It’s been hell to endure, and the person I’ve become now... I don’t know... I miss my husband, but if I want to avoid the Citadel, I suppose I have to do what Medica says.”
I felt my stomach sink, but was unsurprised by her answer. I looked around at the plants, the disorderly display of life and love that surrounded me, and imagined this place in three weeks. Swept clean, everything tidy and neat, and Sarah with those blank, drugged eyes. A version of her that didn’t feel anything. A version that didn’t miss her husband. Just like I had been a version of myself who alienated my friends and couldn’t even remember what I had done with my family.
I sat back, wondering how I could reach her. After a moment, I exhaled. “My sister died when I was young,” I said, and she looked up at me. “I... I didn’t react well, but I wasn’t in the ranking system then. If I had been, I’m pretty sure my parents would have had to arrest me as well, because I didn’t think Scipio was good. I thought he was responsible.”
“You were a child,” she said, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine before pulling away. “You were in pain. I’m a three—a monster. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
I looked down at the nine on my wrist and smiled ruefully. I forgot, sometimes, what I appeared to be now. But I could almost see the one beneath the nine, red and struggling to get free. But one or nine, it didn’t matter. I was still me: funny, sarcastic, tough, and smart. It might not be enough for Scipio, but it was good enough for Grey, Roark, Zoe, Eric, and my brother. And really, they were the only people whose opinions I cared about.
“Your name is Sarah Thrace,” I said. “You love plants and life, and your passion for your husband drove you to desolation when you lost him. You take beatings without threatening retribution, instead seeking only to make peace. You are kind, and filled with grace and perseverance.” I paused and met her eyes, and even though she had dried them not too long ago, they were now wet again. She balled her hands into shaking fists, staring at me with something between ire and hunger. I didn’t stop talking.
“You are sad,” I said, voice heavy with compassion. “True. But you deserve to be sad. You should be allowed to feel how you feel, without having it ruin your life as well. But we don’t live in a place that accounts for all of that, unfortunately, and they want to take you and make you into something... diminished. If you go to the Medica, that wonderful human will be lost to us forever. But we can help stop that from happening, if you want us to.”
Sarah let out a sharp laugh. “What can you possibly do?” she asked, voice throbbing with bitterness. “A dropped Farmer and a Knight? What power can you have?”
It was Grey who answered her. He looked into her eyes and reached into his pocket. This time, it was a white pill that he drew out, along with an ac
companying bottle. Paragon. My brows bunched together as I watched him, and I carefully noted that the blue pill had disappeared. This just added to my mental list of questions for him after we were done here.
“This medicine,” he said, “can help you avoid Medica treatment, if that’s what you want.”
The room fell deadly silent while Sarah stared at the pill and bottle.
“What is it?” she asked carefully.
“It’s a pill that will change your number,” Grey said. “For the better.”
She didn’t reach for the bottle, but stared at it with hot eyes.
“This isn’t legal, is it?” she asked, her eyes darting over to mine, and I shook my head. Lying to her would just insult her intelligence, and she deserved to know what she would be getting into. She licked her lips nervously and looked back at the pills. “What would you want for them?”
I looked at Grey, curious to hear his answer. He leaned in slightly, offering up the bottle and pill. “Nothing now,” he said. “And we would never ask you to hurt anyone or do anything to hurt the Tower.” He hesitated, and leaned forward. “But we might need your expertise eventually, and when that happens, I hope that you’ll be willing to help us. Though we won’t force you to.”
I paused a heartbeat, and then relaxed, relieved at how he was handling this. He wasn’t strong-arming her into helping us, and I was eternally grateful. If he had, I might’ve had something to say about it, but for now, I was just happy that Grey and Roark were more interested in giving people a choice. Yet it was risky. What would they do if someone refused? I made another mental note to ask Grey, and then re-focused on Sarah, feeling the need to add something to what Grey was trying to say.
“You are so much more than a rank,” I added on impulse, and her gaze snapped to me. “You are a person. Let yourself be who you are, Sarah.”
She continued to stare at me, and then her hand darted out and snatched the bottle and pill, pulling them close to her breast. She clutched them there, breathing hard, like someone standing at the edge of a precipice.
“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked.
I smiled at her. This question, at least, was easy.
“Because we’d be in just as much trouble as you for giving them to you. Just like we have to trust that you won’t tell anyone about these pills. Not a soul.”
She bit her lip. Her feet twisted and fidgeted, tapping against the dusty floor. She unclenched her right hand, revealing the single pill.
“Guess I’ll trust you then,” she finally murmured, and then popped it into her mouth.
I watched her as she swallowed, then looked at us with a blank expression.
“Is it, uh...” she said, sweat breaking out across her face. “Is it a fast change? When will I feel it?”
Grey laughed. “You won’t feel it,” he said. “And yes, it’s a fast change. Look at your wrist, Sarah.”
She did so, and her jaw dropped. Where a three had sat moments before, the display now read five. I was also impressed—apparently Roark was improving upon them.
“That’s not possible,” she gasped. “I can’t just... It can’t...”
“It can,” Grey reassured her. “And it did.”
“A five?” she breathed, prodding at her number like it was some kind of illusion. “But I don’t feel any different.”
I grinned at her. “That’s the point,” I said. “The Medica’s way is to strip away those traits that make you special and unique. Ours is to keep you who you are, but give you the freedom to be that person without worrying about what it means to your rank.”
“The first pill I gave you is a diluted version of the pill,” Grey added. “As are the pills in the bottle. We can get your number higher, but we want to stabilize you somewhere believable first, and then bring you up. In a month, I’ll return here with more.”
Grey went on to explain exactly how to take the pills, and once he was done, for the first time since we had met her, a smile had spread across her lips. It was still fighting with sadness, but the gratitude was there, shining behind her glistening eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, reaching out to take my hand. “Thank you for letting me grieve, and thank you for helping me. This is... incredible.”
“I know,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “And I want you to know that you’re not alone. If you need anything, net me—just a short message. Say something like...” I looked over at Grey, who was looking at me with confusion and no small amount of alarm, but I ignored it. She’d need someone to talk to, and it was better to keep her close than not. This was no small favor to ask on our part, no small task for her. She’d need reassurance. She’d need a friend.
“I’ll say the bread you ordered is ready?” she asked, and I nodded.
“It’ll work. It might take me a while to get to you, so don’t panic. If it’s an emergency, say that my cakes are ready, all right?”
She nodded, her gaze returning to the pills in her hand. “If anyone asks?”
“Say nothing. Net me. Okay?”
Sarah met my gaze and nodded, the tremulous smile returning.
The joy on her face continued to be bittersweet, but I understood. She’d just lost her husband. At least she’d be safe now, and that was all that mattered. The thought made me feel good. Really good. Amazingly good, like I could climb the shell of the Tower with my bare hands. This was what being a Knight should be. It was about helping, not hurting, the people inside the Tower. This was what I wanted more than anything: to bring people hope.
She rose up out of her chair, and Grey and I followed suit, expecting her to ask us to leave. To my surprise, she wrapped me in her arms, drawing me into a tight hug. She smelled of dirt and tears and euphoria, and I hugged her tightly back, uncaring that we were practically strangers.
“Thank you,” she murmured in my ear.
It was the best hug I’d ever had, I was sad to admit. But it was better late than never.
She moved on to Grey, and I saw his eyes widen as she pinned him to her, his arms wrapping around her all the same. Over Sarah’s shoulder, our eyes met. Something moved between us, then. A gentleness. It was impossible to describe, but I thought I felt my heart moving a little faster.
There was hope, now, and my life burned a little bit more brightly than before. I was grateful that he’d invited me along.
Grey was quiet as we left the residential area and headed back into the Greenery, and after a while, I couldn’t help but ask, “So how badly did I do in there?”
He looked over at me, the corner of his mouth quirking up, and he shook his head. “No more than I did.”
I cocked my head. “Isn’t this... what you do?”
“Sarah’s the first I’ve recruited. Roark recruited the ones we currently have, and he was the person who convinced me.”
“How many recruits are there?”
Grey shrugged. “I know a few of them from deliveries, but there are a few that Roark doesn’t even want me to know about. People in high-level positions who need to be protected.”
I blinked, sensing the answer to one of the questions that had formed during our exchange with Sarah. “Like an Eye who feeds you information on potential recruits?”
He looked sharply over at me, and after a moment of intense scrutiny, he smiled. “I knew you were smart, but that was some pretty good intuition. I’m impressed.”
“And also not answering the question,” I teased with a smile, though inside I was pleased that he had noticed that about me, and that he seemed to like it. I wanted him to like it.
“You’re like a dog with a bone,” he said with a laugh. “And yes—but I don’t know who it is. For everyone’s safety.”
“For everyone’s safety?”
“He’s an Eye, Liana. If he feels he’s threatened, he can find ways to hurt us. You know the Eyes are the second greatest force in the Tower, not for their physical prowess, but for their intellectual ability. He could gas us in our sleep or create fake arres
ts for us—whatever he wants. That’s why Roark doesn’t tell me. It’s just safer.”
“So... he’s a man?” Grey gave me a sharp look, and I smirked at him for a second, before resetting my face to serious and asking, “And Roark trusts him?”
Grey continued to walk, but he grew silent, his face pensive. “He does—as much as anyone can trust an Eye. He showed Roark the flaw in the nets that Paragon takes advantage of, to help Roark strengthen it, so... he is trustworthy. To a point.”
“Wait—if he showed Roark the flaw, then...”
“Exactly. He’s been in on this from the beginning. But beyond that, I don’t know who he is.”
I took a deep breath, and accepted his answer. I, however, was thinking about it, and there was only one question on my mind: What if it’s Alex? I could let it go for now, but as soon as I got a chance, I was going to try to pry the name out of Roark.
“So what about that blue pill you had earlier?” I asked.
Grey smiled, a short huff of air escaping him in a semblance of a laugh. “You really do not miss a beat, do you?”
“Let’s just say you won’t catch me resting on my laurels,” I replied archly, and this time he did laugh. I liked watching him laugh; he looked lighter, free of the burdens that seemed to collect when we were together.
“The pill... is in case the interview does not go well.” At my sharp glance, he added, “It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s more of a contingency plan.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that answer isn’t going to fly,” I announced, picking up my speed and pivoting so that I could turn and block his path. “You’ve already told me this much. Why not tell me the rest?”
He stopped, our bodies inches apart, and grinned. “I’ll tell you if you kiss me,” he teased, and if possible, my eyebrow rose even higher.