She never missed a thing, and she was strong. In my mind I thought of her as a fighter, a scrapper. Little, but wily and resilient.
Funny that Max had noticed it too.
“Yeah, she is,” I answered. “As long as we’re together, I think she’ll be okay.”
“I want to thank you.” Sydney’s voice interrupted us, surprising me because I half expected her to be sleeping already. She looked worn, battered. “For back there, at the park . . . when you saved me from being crushed by those people.” She glanced down at her hands, guilt evident on her face. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not sure I would have done the same if I were you.”
I didn’t know what to say. I still wasn’t sure why I’d done it; it wasn’t as if I hadn’t fantasized about worse things happening to her and the other kids at B th Qids at her school. It wasn’t as if she’d done anything to deserve my sympathy.
Except that she was still a person. Cruel and nasty, perhaps, but no one deserved to be trampled like that.
Not even her.
She turned her eyes toward me, tears making them glisten in the faint glow of a far-off lantern, and somehow I forgot to hate her. Somehow I managed to erase all the terrible things she had said to me in the past, how she’d reminded me, time and time again, that I was of a lower class than she and her Academy friends.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, a tear slipping free and tracing a path to her chin. She swiped at it, frowning. “I hope you’ll forgive me.” Then she leaned forward, her hand extended to me. “I’m Sydney. Sydney Leonne.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to decide if I should respond, but wondering whether there was really any decision to make. Hadn’t I already made my choice when I’d pulled her to safety instead of running away?
I accepted her hand, startled that her fingers felt so much like my own. She was just a girl. An ordinary girl, alone and frightened. “I’m Charlie. And this,” I explained, pointing to the bundle in my lap, “is my sister, Angelina.”
Angelina lifted her head, letting us know that she was still awake . . . still listening. Then she settled back down without saying a word.
“I’m sorry. About everything. I didn’t know you. I didn’t realize—” Sydney was nervous, and I was glad it made her uneasy to admit to what she’d done in the past.
I didn’t say anything to make it easier for her, I just waited.
She shrugged. “If I could change things . . .” I could almost hear her sigh; I could feel the tension of her regret. “Anyway, I’m really sorry.”
I just nodded; it was all I could do. I couldn’t tell her that it was okay, because it wasn’t.
Max sat quietly, and I wondered
how much he knew, or at least suspected. Up until now, he’d been more perceptive than I cared to admit. Did he remember that Sydney was the girl from my parents’ restaurant that night? Or did he pick up on the fact that we had a history that went back farther than that? Did he recognize all that her quiet apologies meant?
If he did, he kept his opinions to himself, and for that, I was grateful.
Sydney watched me for several seconds, silent currents of understanding passing between us, before she eased back again, settling against the wall behind her. I felt bad that she couldn’t lie down completely, to recover in comfort. The solid wall was the best we could offer her at the moment. She closed her eyes, too exhausted to complain.
Now it was just the two of us, Max and me. And about a thousand other people around us.
XI
“Do you want to tell me what happened back there? At the entrance?”
Max shifted closer, as if to tell Cs iԇome a secret. As if he wasn’t close enough already. His charcoal eyes looked almost black in the darkness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered, his lips very nearly brushing against mine.
I jerked backward, bumping into the man behind me.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Those guards didn’t let us in here out of the goodness of their hearts—they made themselves more than clear that the shelter was closed. That guard even had his gun pointed at me,” I hissed. “Yet something happened to change his mind.” I tried to lean forward the way Max had, wanting to appear confident, meaning to intimidate him. Except that he didn’t retreat, and instead I found myself dangerously close to him once more. I hoped that he couldn’t hear the sound of my heart pounding. “I think you had something to do with that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and then he reached out and laid his hand against my cheek, enjoying himself far too much. I was certain that everyone could hear my heart now. “It was my uniform.” He said it so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear his words at all.
I shook my head in denial, not yet ready to believe it was that simple, but his hand stayed against my face, his fingertips inching their way into my hairline. His thumb moved down to the corner of my mouth, and I closed my eyes. I should have shrugged his hand away then. I told myself that I didn’t want him to touch me . . . that his touch meant nothing, less than nothing.
His hand remained where it was, his thumb poised beside my lips. I opened my eyes, watching as he gazed at my mouth.
“You are so beautiful.”
“Stop it,” I breathed. “That’s not an answer.”
His thumb moved, ever so slightly, tracing a sensitive path along my lower lip. Goose bumps shivered along my spine. “You didn’t ask me a question.”
I stared at him and I asked, “Who are you?”
It was as if I’d jolted him with a shock of electricity. His hand dropped away from my mouth, from my face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, where do you come from, Max? What class were you born into? What language is it that you speak?” I tried to think of all the questions that I’d been saving, and all the things I’d been afraid to even wonder. “And why are you here when the city is under attack? Isn’t there someplace else you need to be?”
His jaw tightened, the muscles there leaping. “I am exactly where I need to be.”
“You know what I mean. Shouldn’t you be with your battalion? Won’t you get in trouble for not being with them?” I hadn’t realized that I was practically shouting until several heads turned in our direction. I bit my lip and shot an angry glare at Max for embarrassing me like that, silently blaming him for my outburst.
This time when he leaned close, the danger wasn’t imagined, and it wasn’t desire that stoked my fears.
His teeth were clenched. “How about we swap secrets, Charla Bs i a Charla ina? I’ll answer your questions, if you answer mine.” He raised an eyebrow as he slipped easily into that same dialect he’d spoken before . . . the one I’d never heard until the night I’d first laid eyes on him. The one I shouldn’t be listening to.
I didn’t like where this was going, and my stomach clenched painfully.
“Never mind,” I threw back at him, this time keeping my voice whisper soft. “I don’t care what happened back there. I don’t want to know anything about you or where you’re from. In fact, the sooner we get out of here, the better, and then you don’t ever have to worry about me snooping in your life again.”
“Come on, Charlie, it’s just getting interesting. You don’t want to stop now, do you?”
“Leave me alone,” I hissed, turning my head away, my cheeks burning with anger and shame and regret.
No one had ever confused me the way he did.
I remained silent, and he didn’t try to goad me further. The hush around us was thick, but it was the sounds from above, coming from the city, that reminded me—reminded all of us—of why we were down here, huddled and hiding.
At times it seemed like the violence—the blasts that would cause the ground beneath us to quake—was right on top of us, making me worry for myself and my little sister, who I knew wasn’t actually sleeping but lay motionless in my arms. At others, the sounds were farther away, making me worry for my parents, for Aron
and for Brooklynn. For everyone who wasn’t here.
It was easy not to speak to Max. Fear consumed me, making me raw, eating away at me from the inside out. I would rather not be angry on top of the fear, but that was his fault. His choice.
All his secrets and lies made it impossible not to be mad at him.
At some point during the night, sleep had won. I couldn’t recall the exact point at which I’d finally succumbed, but I knew that the exhaustion had been there, tugging at me, trying to close my eyes and making me weak with fatigue.
Angelina had given in long before I had.
I leaned against something warm . . . or rather, someone, I thought vaguely. A strong arm held me, a hand stroked mine.
And lips.
Someone had kissed the top of my head.
Or had I only dreamt that?
Somewhere in the back of my mind, whispered warnings insisted that I wake, insisted that this was all a mistake.
Yet I continued to sleep, refusing to pay attention to that cautionary voice.
I was sure it was the shouting that woke me, but it just as easily could have been the murmuring. Or the lights that were starting to fill the tunnels, infiltrating my eyelids and invading the darkness.
Or it could have been the fact that I’d just realized my head was resting on Max’s lap, my hand draped casually over the top of his Bs i a of his thigh.
Whatever it was, I bolted upright, clinging to Angelina and trying not to disturb her. I was startled that I’d allowed myself to get so comfortable.
Around me the whispers grew, becoming frenzied.
Something was happening.
“What’s going on?” I questioned Max, who was watching the commotion near the entrance.
His lifted his finger to his lips. “Nothing,” he answered softly. “Just stay quiet and keep your head down.”
I glanced around, trying to make sense of things.
Near the entrance, voices rose to shouts, and lanterns were being lit all along the platform. Still, it was hard to see anything from where we sat.
“I know you’re down here!” a man’s voice bellowed, like a growl, rippling through the shadows.
There was silence for a moment, as everyone stopped to listen. And then a smaller voice—another man—responded, but I couldn’t hear what he said.
More lanterns were ignited.
I craned my neck, trying to get a better view.
“Charlie, stay down,” Max warned, pulling me back.
Angelina was awake now, sitting noiselessly on my lap. I squeezed her arm but spoke to Max. “Who is that? His voice, it seems . . . familiar.”
Max shook his head, so many emotions crossing his face. He looked at once trapped and defeated, and his shoulders sagged. He watched me closely for several long seconds before answering me at last. “They’re here for me.” He reached out and ruffled Angelina’s hair, smiling at her wistfully. “I should have known they’d come looking for me.”
My eyes widened. I knew it! I’d worried that Max should have been somewhere else, that he was supposed to be with his platoon instead of helping a pair of merchant girls escape into the tunnels beneath the city. Even Sydney, as a member of the Counsel class, didn’t warrant the kind of protection he’d provided us.
I wondered what the penalty was for desertion.
I reached for his hand, clutching his fingers. “What can we do? There’s no place to hide.”
The voice boomed again, coming from atop the platform. “I know you’re down here! You might as well come out now!”
I knew this time, without a doubt. I knew who was speaking—yelling, rather—through the passageways. His deep voice rumbled off the walls and vibrated in the air. I glanced up again. More lanterns had been lit, and he was closer now as people stood hastily to get out of his way.
It was Claude, sounding and looking imposing in his uniform, even in the gloom of the tunnels beneath the city.
And he wasn’t alone. Behind him marched a small army of soldiers, including the other man I recognized, the second man from the club that night, the darker-skinned Zafir. Neither he nor Claude were the kind of men I could ever Bs i ald ever forget.
Max grinned at me, an odd response, I thought. Then he leaned close, his mouth almost to mine, stealing my breath and capturing my awareness. “Whatever happens, promise me one thing?”
I wanted to nod, but I was afraid to move. Afraid that if I did, our lips might actually touch, and then I’d be lost, unable to think, or speak, or promise him anything at all.
I blinked slowly instead.
Max’s smile spread, his lips parting.
Footsteps landed in the gravel somewhere nearby, and the light from a lantern came closer still. They were almost upon us, and I knew that time was running short.
“Promise me that no matter what happens right now, you won’t be angry with me.” I was still holding on to his hand, and his fingers crushed mine, as if securing my oath.
The man on the other side of me stood and moved his family out of the path of the approaching soldiers.
The grinding of a thousand feet seemed to stop right in front of us, but Max held my gaze, sharing my breath.
“Get up.” Claude’s voice cut through the silence that had settled in the air while everyone in the tunnels watched. Then, impatiently, without waiting for a response, he spoke in a language that I doubted anyone around me had ever heard before. “Get up now, or I’ll drag you up. The queen won’t like this when she hears of it.”
The queen? Why would the queen need to hear about the desertion of one soldier?
But I didn’t get a chance to ask the questions that buzzed within my head.
Max just sighed, still not turning to face the others. He held my face between his hands and pressed the gentlest kiss to my lips—reminding me of my dream, of the kiss I’d imagined in my sleep. I told myself that this wasn’t the time to indulge such fantasies, that this was serious. Max was in trouble.
But he didn’t seem to notice.
I watched as he stood, his demeanor too casual for the situation at hand. “How did you find me?” he asked Claude, who was scowling at him.
Claude raised his lantern, illuminating Max’s face, and I watched as the light danced over Max’s handsome features. I could still feel his lips against my skin as if he’d scalded me with his brief kiss. My cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited to see what was going to happen to Max.
“You’re not that hard to track. People notice you. One of the guards at the door knew exactly who you were,” was Claude’s gruff response.
And then, from somewhere in the distance, I heard one of the soldiers barking an order to the people in the tunnels. I wanted to know what he’d said, but his command was swallowed by a chorus of gasps, first one . . . and then another. And another. The whispered utterances that passed from person to person rose to a deafening roar as the soldier’s words spread throughout the crowd. A command that still hadn’t reached me. A command I had yet to hear.
I glanced to Sydney, to see if she understood what was happening, but she looked just as confused as I was.
Then all around us, people began to fall to their knees, and I wondered what was being said that made them suddenly too feeble to stand.
The other giant of a man, Zafir, smirked. “How long did you think you could remain hidden?” he asked Max, his voice nearly as thunderous as Claude’s.
Max looked down at me, his expression serious now. He reached out a hand and I took it, letting him help me to my feet. “Long enough,” he answered, this time in Englaise.
I frowned at Max, wondering why they were all acting so strangely. Why he wasn’t being arrested. Why they were standing there, chatting, while everyone around us was suddenly unable to remain on their feet.
And then, from right beside me, the man and his family knelt down, and I heard the man utter as he dropped to the ground, bowing low, “Your High
ness.”
It took far too long for those two simple words to register. And even when they did, I couldn’t imagine who he could possibly be speaking to.
But as soon as they were out there, Max turned to watch me, scrutinizing me. Awaiting my response.
And it came. Far too slowly, but it came nonetheless.
The secret language. The fact that Max seemed to come and go as he pleased despite being a member of the military. The mention of the queen.
Everyone in the tunnel being ordered to their knees, forced to bow low out of respect.
Not to Claude or Zafir, or to any of the men in uniform.
But to Max.
They were bowing down to Prince Maxmillian, grandson to Queen Sabara.
His Royal Highness.
I turned around in a circle, gravel crunching beneath my feet as I stared at the people on the ground. Angelina stood beside me, watching me, watching everything.
Silence filled the underground caverns; hush echoed off the walls. Not even the soldiers made a sound.
My tongue felt thick in my mouth, as if it might choke me should I attempt to swallow. Or speak. The air in my lungs felt too warm and arid as I stole shallow breaths to sustain myself.
Time seemed to stand still.
I blinked once, my eyes feeling gritty. I frowned at Max, pleading at him with that stare to tell me that I was wrong, that they were all wrong, that he was no one . . . just a young man who’d deserted his post.
I’m sorry, he mouthed, no sound escaping his lips . . . lips that had just touched my own. Lips that had lied and betrayed me.
Max was royalty. That was who he was. That was why I’d never heard his language before. It was the language of the Royals . . . a language very few would ever have the occasion to hear.
Especially a simple merchant girl.
I reached for my sister’s hand and pulled her down with me as we, too, dropped to our knees. We couldn’t afford to draw any more attention to ourselves than we already had. We couldn’t afford to appear disloyal.