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Day says nothing. Instead, he wanders away from me and stands on the room’s balcony. He leans against the railing. I put out some food and water for Ollie, then join him. The sun set a while ago, but with the glow from the city lights, we can see the low-lying clouds that block the stars, covering the sky in shades of gray and black. I notice how heavily Day has to lean on the railing to support himself, and I’m tempted to ask him how he’s feeling. But the expression on his face stops me. He probably doesn’t want to talk about it.
“So,” he says after another puff on his cigarette. The light from distant JumboTrons paints a glowing line of blue and purple around his face. His eyes skim across the buildings, and I know he’s instinctively analyzing how he would run each one of them. “Guess we’re on our own now. Can’t say I’m all that upset about it, though. The Republic’s always been about closing off her borders, yeah? Maybe she’ll fight better this way. Nothing motivates you like being alone and cornered on the streets.”
When he lifts his cigarette to his lips again, I see his hand trembling. The paper clip ring gleams on his finger. “Day,” I say gently. He just raises an eyebrow and glances at me sideways. “You’re shaking.”
He exhales a puff of blue smoke, squints at the city lights in the darkness, and then lowers his lashes. “It’s strange being back in LA,” he replies, his voice distracted and distant. “I’m fine. Just worried about Tess.” A long pause follows. I know the name—Eden—that hangs at the tips of both of our tongues, although neither one of us wants to bring it up first. Day finally ends our silence, and when he does, he approaches the topic with slow and laborious pain. “June, I’ve been thinking about what your Elector wants from me. About, you know . . . about my brother.” He sighs, then leans farther out on the railing and rakes a hand through his hair. His arm brushes past my own—even this small gesture sends my heart beating faster. “I had an argument with Eden about it all.”
“What did he say?” I ask. Somehow, I feel guilty when I think back on Anden’s request for me. If you can find it in your heart to ask Day again about his brother, I would be grateful.
Day puts his cigarette out on the metal railing. His eyes meet mine. “He wants to help,” he murmurs. “After seeing Tess today, and after what you just told me, well . . .” He tightens his jaw. “I’ll talk to Anden tomorrow. Maybe there’s something in Eden’s blood that can, you know . . . make a difference in all this. Maybe.”
He’s still reluctant, of course, and I can hear the pain plainly in his voice. But he is also agreeing. Agreeing to let the Republic use his little brother to find a cure. A small, bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Day, the champion of the people, the one who can’t bear to see those around him suffer on his behalf, who would gladly give his life for those he loves. Except it’s not his life that we need in order to save Tess, but his brother’s. Risking one loved one for the sake of another loved one. I wonder whether anything else made him change his mind. “Thank you, Day,” I whisper. “I know how hard this is.”
He grimaces and shakes his head. “No, I’m just being selfish. But I can’t help it.” He looks down, laying bare his weaknesses. “Just . . . tell Anden to bring him back. Please bring him back.”
There’s something else bothering him, something that’s making his hands shake uncontrollably. I lean into him, then place one of my hands over his. He looks me in the eyes again. There’s such deep sadness and fear in his face. It breaks my heart. “What else is wrong, Day?” I whisper. “What else do you know?”
This time, he doesn’t look away. He swallows—and when he speaks, there’s a slight tremor in his voice. “The Colonies’ Chancellor called me while I was in the hospital.”
“The Chancellor?” I whisper, careful to keep my voice low. You never know. “Are you sure?”
Day nods once. Then he tells me everything—the conversation he had with the Chancellor, the bribes, the blackmail and threats. He tells me what the Colonies have in store for me, should Day refuse them. All my unspoken fears. Finally, he sighs. The release of all this information seems to lighten the burden on his shoulders, if only by a hair. “There must be a way we can use this against the Colonies,” he says. “Some way to trick them with their own game. I don’t know what yet, but if we can find some way to make the Chancellor think that I’m going to help him out, then maybe we can take them by surprise.”
If the Colonies really do win, they will come after me. We’ll be killed, all of us. I try to sound as calm as he does, but I don’t succeed. A tremor still manages to creep into my voice. “He’ll expect you to react emotionally to all this,” I reply. “It might be as good an opportunity as any to hit the Colonies with your own brand of propaganda. But whatever we do, we have to be careful about it. The Chancellor should know better than to trust you wholeheartedly.”
“Things won’t go well for you if they win,” Day whispers, his voice pained. “I never took them to be some goddy compassionate softies—but maybe you should find a way to flee the country. Sneak off to a neutral place and seek asylum.”
Flee the country, run away from this entire nightmare, and hole up in some faraway land? A small, tiny, dark voice in my head whispers agreement, that I will be safer that way . . . but I recoil from the thought. I draw myself up as well as I can. “No, Day,” I reply gently. “If I flee, what will everyone else do? What about those who can’t?”
