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So, I’m not going back to Los Angeles. The last I heard, LA’s quarantine had been lifted after Anden began an investigation into the Senate’s traitors—and both Razor and Commander Jameson were arrested for treason. I can only imagine how much Jameson hates Day and me now . . . even the thought of what the fury on her face must look like sends a chill down my spine.
“Thank you,” I say after a while. “I’m very grateful.”
Anden waves a hand in the air. “No need. You and Day have done me a great service.”
I give him a quick, casual salute. Already Day’s influence is being felt—after his impromptu speech, Congress and the military obeyed Anden in allowing protesters to return unpunished to their homes and releasing the Patriots who had been arrested during the assassination attempt (under monitored conditions). If the Senate didn’t fear Day before, they do now. He has the power for the time being to ignite a full-scale revolution with only a few choice words.
“But . . .” Anden’s volume drops and he pulls his hands out of his pockets to cross them in front of his chest. “I have a different proposition for you. I think you deserve a more important position than Agent.”
A memory surfaces of when I was on that train with him, of the unspoken offer hanging on his lips. “What kind of position?”
For the first time, he decides to sit down with me on the edge of my bed. He’s so close now that I can feel the light whisper of his breath on my skin and see the stubble shadowing his chin. “June,” he begins, “the Republic has never been more unstable than it is now. Day brought it back from the brink of collapse, but I’m still ruling during dangerous times. Many of the Senators are battling for control amongst themselves, and many people in the country are hoping for me to make a wrong move.” Anden falls silent for a second. “One moment won’t keep me in the people’s favor forever, and I can’t hold the country together alone.”
I know he’s telling the truth. I can see the exhaustion in his face, and the frustration that comes with being responsible for his country.
“When my father was a young Elector, he and my mother ruled together. The Elector and his Princeps. He was never more powerful than he was during that time. I’d like an ally too, someone smart and strong whom I can trust with more power than anyone else in Congress.” My breathing turns shallow as I take in the offer he’s circling around. “I want a partner who has her finger on the pulse of the people, someone extraordinarily talented at everything she does, and someone who shares my ideas about how to create a nation. Of course, one couldn’t go from Agent to Princeps in the blink of an eye. One would need intense training, instruction, and education. An opportunity to grow into the position over the course of many years, decades, to first learn as a Senator and then as the Senate’s leader. This is not training to bestow lightly, especially upon someone without Senate experience. Of course, there would be other Princeps-Elects shadowing me as well.” He pauses here; his tone shifts. “What do you think?”
I shake my head, still not quite sure of what exactly Anden is offering. There’s the chance to be the Princeps—a position second only to the Elector. I would spend almost every waking moment of my life in Anden’s company, shadowing his every step for at least ten years. I would never see Day. This offer makes the life I’d imagined with him waver unsteadily. Is Anden offering this promotion purely based on what he thinks of my capabilities—or is he letting his emotions influence him, promoting me in the hopes that he might get a chance to spend more time with me? And how can I possibly compete with other potential Princeps-Elects, some of whom will probably be decades my senior, perhaps already Senators? I take a deep breath, then try to ask him in a diplomatic way. “Elector,” I begin. “I don’t think—”
“I won’t pressure you,” he interrupts, then swallows and smiles hesitantly. “You are absolutely free to turn this down. And you can be a Princeps without . . .” Is Anden blushing? “You don’t have to,” he says instead. “I—the Republic—would only be grateful if you did.”
“I don’t know if I have that kind of talent,” I say. “You need someone so much better than I could ever be.”
Anden takes both of my hands in his. “You were born to shake the Republic. June, there is no one better.”
THE DOCTORS DIDN’T LIKE ME IN THE BEGINNING. The feeling was pretty mutual, of course—I haven’t exactly had the best experiences in hospitals.
Two days ago, when they finally managed to get me off the balcony of Denver’s Capitol Tower and calm the massive throngs of people cheering me on, they strapped me into an ambulance and took me straight to the hospital. There, I shattered a doctor’s glasses and kicked over my room’s metal trays when they tried to check me for injuries. “You put a hand on me,” I’d snapped at them, “and I’ll break your goddy necks.” The hospital staff had to tie me down. I screamed myself hoarse for Eden, demanding to see him, threatening to burn down the entire hospital if they didn’t deliver him. I shouted for June. I yelled for proof that the Patriots were released. I asked to see Kaede’s body, begging them to give her a proper burial.
They broadcasted my reactions live to the public because of the crowds that had gathered by the hospital, demanding to see I was being treated properly. But gradually I calmed down, and after seeing me alive, the crowds in Denver began to calm down too.
