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“Why not?” Day asks. His voice is detached, crumpled like a dead flower.
I don’t understand. Maybe he’s being sarcastic. Or maybe he’s going to say that he still wants to find a way to be together. But he doesn’t add anything else to his answer. Why would he ask me to accept this offer? I’d thought he would be so happy that all this was finally over, that we could try our hand at some semblance of normal life again, whatever that is. It’d be so easy for me to figure out some compromise with Anden’s offer, or even to just turn it down altogether. Why didn’t he suggest that? I thought Day was the more emotional of the two of us.
Day smiles bitterly when I don’t respond right away. We sit with our hands separated, letting the world hang heavily between us, hearing the seconds tick soundlessly by. After a few minutes, he takes a deep breath and says, “I, ah . . . have something else I should tell you too.”
I nod quietly, waiting for him to continue. Afraid of what he’ll say. Afraid he’ll explain why.
He hesitates for a long time, but when he does speak, he shakes his head and gives me a tragic little laugh. I can tell he’s changed his mind, taking a secret and folding it back into his heart. “You know, sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I just . . . met you one day. Like normal people do. If I just walked by you on some street one sunny morning and thought you were cute, stopped, shook your hand, and said, ‘Hi, I’m Daniel.’”
I close my eyes at such a sweet thought. How freeing that would be. How easy. “If only,” I whisper.
Day picks at the gold chain on his glove. “Anden is the Elector Primo of the entire Republic. There might never be another chance like this.”
I know what he’s trying to say. “Don’t worry, it’s not like I can’t influence the Republic if I turn this offer down, or find some middle ground. This is not the only way—”
“Hear me out, June,” he says softly, holding up both hands to stop me. “I don’t know if I’ll have the guts to say all this again.” I tremble at the way his lips form my name. He gives me a smile that shatters something inside me. I don’t know why, but his expression is as if he were seeing me for the last time. “Come on, you and I both know what needs to happen. We’ve only known each other for a couple of months. But I’ve spent my entire life fighting the system that the Elector now wants to change. And you . . . well, your family suffered as much as mine did.” He pauses, and his eyes take on a faraway appearance. “I might be okay at spewing speeches from the top of a building, and at working a crowd. I don’t know anything about politics. I can only be a figurehead. But you . . . you’ve always been everything that the people need. You have the chance to change things.” He takes my hand and touches the spot on my finger where his ring used to sit. I feel the calluses on his palms, the aching gentleness of his gesture. “It’s your decision, of course, but you know what it has to be. Don’t make up your mind just because you feel guilty or something. Don’t worry about me. I know that’s why you’re holding back—I can see it on your face.”
Still, I say nothing. What is he talking about? See what on my face? What do I look like right now?
Day sighs at my silence. His face is unbearable. “June,” he says slowly. Behind his words, his voice sounds like it might break at any moment. “It will never, ever work out between us.”
And here is the real reason why. I shake my head, unwilling to hear the rest. Not this. Please don’t say it, Day, please don’t say it. “We’ll figure out a way,” I begin to say. The details come pouring out. “I can work in the capital’s patrols for a while. That would be a more feasible option, anyway. Shadow a Senator, if I really want to go into politics. Twelve of the Senators—”
Day can’t even look at me. “We weren’t meant to be. There are just . . . too many things that have happened.” He grows quieter. “Too many things.”
The weight of it hits me. This has nothing to do with the Princeps position, and everything to do with something else. Day would be saying all this even if Anden never offered anything. Our argument in the underground tunnel. I want to say how wrong he is, but I can’t even argue his point. Because he’s right. How could I possibly think that we’d never suffer the consequences of what I’d done to him? How could I be so arrogant to assume it would all work out for us in the end, that my doing a couple of good deeds could make up for all the pain I caused him? The truth will never change. No matter how hard he tries, every time he looks at me, he’ll see what happened to his family. He’ll see what I did. It will always haunt him; it will forever stand between us.
I need to let him go.
I can feel the tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but I don’t dare let them fall. “So,” I whisper, my voice trembling from the effort. “Is that it? After everything?” Even as I say it, I know there’s no point. The damage has already been done. There is no turning back.
Day hunches over and presses his hands against his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
Long seconds pass.
After an eternity, I swallow hard. I will not cry. Love is illogical, love has consequences—I did this to myself, and I should be able to take it. So take it, June. I am the one who should be sorry. Finally, instead of saying what I want to say, I manage to wrestle down the tremor in my voice and give a more appropriate answer. What I should say.
