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“Anden is completely opposed to the late Elector’s politics,” I go on. “He wants to stop the Trials, and the plague experiments.” I hesitate. Day is still staring at the can of pasta, fork in hand, but he’s not eating any longer. “He wants to make all these radical changes, but he needs to win the public’s favor first. He basically begged me for our help.”
Day’s expression quivers. “That’s it? That’s why you decided to throw the Patriots’ entire plan out the window?” he replies bitterly. “So the Elector can bribe me in exchange for my support? Sounds like a damn joke, if you ask me. How do you know he’s telling the truth, June? Did you actually get proof that he released Eden?”
I put my hand on his arm. This is exactly what I feared from Day, but he has every right to be suspicious. How can I explain the gut instinct I have about Anden’s personality, or the fact that I’d seen the honesty in his eyes? I know Anden released Day’s brother. I know it. But Day wasn’t there in the room. He doesn’t know Anden. He has no reason to trust him. “Anden is different. You have to believe me, Day. He released Eden, and not just because he wants us to do something for him.”
Day’s words are cold and distant. “I said, do you have any proof?”
I sigh, taking my hand off his arm. “No,” I admit. “I don’t.”
Day snaps out of his daze and digs his fork back into the can. He does it so hard that the fork’s handle bends. “He played you. You, of all people. The Republic is not going to change. Right now the new Elector’s young, stupid as hell, and full of it, and he just wants to make people take him seriously. He’ll say anything. Once things settle down, you’ll see his true colors. I guarantee it. He’s no different from his father—just another goddy rich trot with deep pockets and a mouthful of lies.”
It irritates me that Day thinks I’m so gullible. “Young and full of it?” I give Day a little shove, trying to lighten the mood. “Reminds me of someone.”
Once this would have made Day laugh, but now he just glares at me. “I saw a boy in Lamar,” he continues. “He was my brother’s age. For a minute, I thought he was Eden. He was being shipped around in a giant glass tube, like some sort of science experiment. I tried to get him out, but I couldn’t. The boy’s blood is being used as a bioweapon that they’re trying to launch into the Colonies.” Day throws his fork into the sink. “That’s what your pretty Elector’s doing to my brother. Now, you still think he released him?”
I reach over and put my hand over his. “Congress had sent Eden to the warfront before Anden was Elector. Anden just released him the other day. He’s—”
Day shrugs me off, his expression a mix of frustration and confusion. He readjusts the sleeves of his collar shirt back up to his elbows. “Why do you believe in this guy so much?”
“What do you mean?”
He gets angrier as he goes. “I mean, the only reason I didn’t smash your Elector’s car window and put a knife through his throat was because of you. Because I knew you must’ve had a good reason. But now it seems like you just take his words on faith. What happened to all that logic of yours?”
I don’t like the way he calls Anden my Elector, as if Day and I were still on opposing sides. “I’m telling you the truth,” I say quietly. “Besides, last time I checked, you’re not a murderer.”
Day turns away from me and mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite catch. I cross my arms. “Do you remember when I trusted you, even though everything I’d ever known told me that you were an enemy? I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and I sacrificed everything for what I believed. I can tell you right now that assassinating Anden will solve nothing. He’s the one person the Republic actually needs—someone inside the system with enough power to change things. How could you live with yourself after killing a person like that? Anden is good.”
“So what if he is?” Day says coldly. He’s gripping the countertop so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. “Good, bad—what does it matter? He’s the Elector.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you really believe that?”
Day shakes his head and laughs mirthlessly. “The Patriots are trying to start a revolution. That’s what this country needs—not a new Elector, but no Elector. The Republic is broken beyond repair. Let the Colonies take over.”
“You don’t even know what the Colonies are like.”
“I know they’ve got to be better than this hellhole,” Day snaps.
I can tell that he’s not angry at just me, but he’s starting to sound childish and it rubs me the wrong way. “You know why I agreed to help the Patriots?” I put a hand on his upper arm, feeling the faint outline of a scar under the fabric. Day tenses up at my touch. “Because I wanted to help you. You think everything’s my fault, don’t you? It’s my fault that your brother’s being experimented on. It’s my fault that you had to leave the Patriots. It’s my fault that Tess refused to come.”
“No . . .” Day trails off as he wrings his hands in frustration. “It’s not all your fault. And Tess . . . Tess is definitely my fault.” There’s genuine pain on his face—at this point, I can’t tell who it’s for. So much has happened. I feel a curious pang of resentment that makes blood rush in my ears even as it shames me. It’s not fair for me to be jealous. After all, Day has known Tess for years, much longer than he’s known me, so why shouldn’t he feel attached to her? Besides, Tess is sweet, selfless, healing. I am not. Of course I know why Tess had abandoned him. It is because of me.
