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A small murmur of surprise escapes me. “Thanks.” I take the box gingerly, admiring it for a moment, and then tilt my head at him. “What’s the occasion?”
Day tucks his hair behind one ear and tries to appear uncaring. “Just thought it looked pretty.”
I open the box carefully, then take a sharp breath when I see what’s inside—a silver chain with a small teardrop-shaped ruby pendant bordered with tiny diamonds. Three slender silver wires are wrapped around the ruby itself. “It’s . . . gorgeous,” I say. My cheeks burn. “This must have been so expensive.” Since when did I start using cordial social niceties when talking to Day?
He shakes his head. “Apparently the Republic is throwing money at me to keep me happy. Ruby’s your birthstone, yeah? Well, I just figured you should have a nicer keepsake from me than a ring made out of goddy paper clips.” He pats Ollie on the head, then makes a show of admiring my apartment. “Nice place. A lot like mine.” Day’s been given a similar, heavily guarded apartment a couple of blocks down the same street.
“Thank you,” I say again, gingerly setting the box on my kitchen counter for the time being. Then I wink at him. “I still liked my paper clip ring best, though.”
For a split second, happiness crosses his face. I want to throw my arms around him and pull his lips to my own, but—there’s a weight to his posture that makes me feel like I should keep my distance.
I venture a hesitant guess at what’s bothering him. “How’s Eden?”
“He’s doing well enough.” Day gazes around the room one more time, then lets his eyes settle on me again. “All things considered, of course.”
I lower my head. “I’m . . . sorry to hear about his vision. He’s—”
“He’s alive,” Day cuts me off gently. “I’m happy enough about that.” I nod in awkward agreement, and we lapse into a long pause.
Finally, I say, “You wanted to talk.”
“Yes.” Day looks down, fidgets with his gloves, then shoves his hands into his pockets. “I heard about the promotion Anden offered you.”
I turn away and sit on my couch. It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours and already I’ve seen the news pop up twice on the city’s JumboTrons:
JUNE IPARIS TAPPED TO TRAIN FOR PRINCEPS POSITION
I should be happy that Day’s the one who brought it up—I’d been trying to figure out a good way to approach the subject, and now I don’t have to. Still, my pulse quickens and I find myself feeling as nervous as I feared. Maybe he’s upset that I didn’t mention it right away. “How much have you already heard?” I ask as he comes over to sit beside me. His knee gently grazes my thigh. Even this light touch sends butterflies dancing in my stomach. I glance at his face to see if he did it on purpose, but Day’s lips are drawn into an uncomfortable line, as if he knows where he’s going to take this conversation but doesn’t want to do it.
“I heard through the grapevine that you’d have to shadow Anden’s every step, yeah? You’d train to become his Princeps. That all true?”
I sigh, slump my shoulders, and let my head sink into my hands. Hearing Day say this makes me feel the gravity of the commitment I’d have to make. Of course I understand the practical reasons why Anden would tap me for this—I hope I am someone who can help transform the Republic. All of my military training, everything Metias ever told me—I know I’m a good fit for the Republic’s government. But . . . “Yes, all true,” I reply, then add hastily, “It’s not a marriage proposal—nothing like that. It’s a professional position, and I’d be one of several competing for the position. But it’d mean weeks . . . well . . . months away at a time. Away from . . .” Away from you, I want to say. But it sounds too cheesy, and I decide not to finish the sentence. Instead, I give him all the details that have been running through my mind. I tell him about the grueling schedule of a Princeps-Elect, how I’d plan to give myself breathing room if I were to agree to it all, that I’m unsure how much of myself I want to give to the Republic. After a while I know I’ve started rambling, but it feels so good to get everything off my chest, to bare my troubles to the boy I care about, that I don’t try to stop myself. If anyone in my life deserves to hear everything, it’s Day.
“I don’t know what to tell Anden,” I finish. “He hasn’t pressured me, but I need to give him an answer soon.”
Day doesn’t reply. My flood of words hangs in the silence between us. I can’t describe the emotion on his face—something lost, something ripped from his gaze and strewn across the floor. A deep, quiet sadness that tears me apart. What’s going through Day’s mind? Does he believe me? Does he think, like I did when I first heard it, that Anden is offering this because of a personal interest in me? Is he sad because it would mean ten years of barely seeing each other? I watch him and wait, trying to anticipate what he’ll say. Of course he’s going to be unhappy with the idea, of course he’ll protest. I’m not happy myself with—
Day suddenly speaks up. “Take the offer,” he murmurs.
I lean toward him, because I don’t think I heard him correctly. “What?”
Day studies me carefully. His hand twitches a little, as if he wants to lift it and touch my cheek. Instead, it stays at his side. “I came here to tell you to take his offer,” he repeats softly.
I blink. My throat hurts; my vision swims in a haze of light. That can’t be the right response—I had expected a dozen different answers from Day except for that one. Or perhaps it’s not his answer that shocks me so much as the way he said it. Like he’s letting go. I stare at him for a moment, wondering if I’ve imagined it. But his expression—sad, distant—stays the same. I turn away and shift to the edge of the couch, and through the numbness in my mind I can only remember to whisper, “Why?”
