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Anden leans on the table and threads his gloved fingers together. “Someone needs to hold firm in Los Angeles,” he repeats, “which means one of my Princeps-Elects will need to take my place as an acting Elector. She would need to control the Senate, keep them in check while I’m away with the troops. I would select this person, of course, and the Senate would confirm it.” A small, sad smile plays at the edges of his lips, as if he already knows what my answer will be. “I’ve already spoken individually with Mariana and Serge about this, and they are both eager for my appointment. Now I need to know whether you are, as well.”
I turn my head away and look out the apartment window. The thought of becoming an acting Elector of the Republic—even though my chances of being chosen pale in comparison to that of Mariana and Serge—should excite me, but it doesn’t.
Anden watches me carefully. “You can tell me,” he finally says. “I realize what a turning point this decision is, and I’ve sensed your discomfort for quite some time.” He gives me a level stare. “Tell me the truth, June. Do you really want to be a Princeps-Elect?”
I feel a strange emptiness. I had been contemplating this for a long time, my disinterest and weariness with the politics of the Republic, the bickering in the Senate, the fighting among Senators and the Princeps-Elects. I’d thought this would be hard to say to him. But now that he’s here, waiting for my answer, the words come easily, calmly.
“Anden, you know that the role of a Princeps-Elect has been a huge honor for me. But as time goes on, I can tell that something’s missing, and now I know what it is. You get to head off and lead your army against our enemies, while Day and the Patriots are fighting back against the Colonies in their own guerilla way. I miss being out in the field, working as a junior agent and relying on myself. I miss the days when things were straightforward instead of political, when I could easily sense the right path and what I should do. I . . . miss doing what my brother helped train me to do.” I hold my gaze steady. “I’m sorry, Anden, but I don’t know whether I’m cut out to be a politician. I’m a soldier. I don’t think you should consider me as a temporary Elector in your absence, and I’m not sure whether I should continue on as your Princeps-Elect.”
Anden searches my eyes. “I see,” he finally says. Although there’s a twinge of sadness in his voice, he seems to agree. If there’s one thing Anden excels at, even more than Day, it’s understanding where I’m coming from.
A moment later, I see another emotion in his eyes—envy. He’s envious that I have the choice to step away from the world of politics, that I can turn to something else, when Anden will forever and always be our Elector, someone the country needs to lean on. He can never step away with a clean conscience.
He clears his throat. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to join the troops in the streets,” I reply. I’m so sure of my decision this time, so excited by the prospect, that I can hardly bear it. “Send me back out there. Let me fight.” I lower my voice. “If we lose, then none of the Princeps-Elects will matter anyway.”
“Of course,” Anden says, nodding. He looks around the room with an uncertain expression, and behind his brave front I can see the boy king in him struggling to hold on. Then he notices a rumpled coat hanging at the foot of my bed. He lingers on it.
I’d never bothered to put Day’s coat away.
Anden finally looks away from it. I don’t need to tell him that Day had spent the night—I can already see the realization on his face. I blush. I have always been good at hiding my emotions, but this time I’m embarrassed that something about that night—the heat of Day’s skin against mine, the touch of his hand smoothing my hair away from my face, the brush of his lips against my neck—will show up in my eyes.
“Well,” he says after a long pause. He gives me a small, sad smile, then rises. “You are a soldier, Ms. Iparis, through and through—but it has been an honor to see you as a Princeps-Elect.” The Elector of the Republic bows to me. “Whatever happens from here, I hope you remember that.”
“Anden,” I whisper. The memory of his dark, furious face in the Senate chamber comes back to me. “When you’re in Vegas, promise me that you’ll stay yourself. Don’t turn into someone you’re not. Okay?”
He may not have been surprised by my answer, or by Day’s coat. But this seems to catch him off guard. He blinks, confused for a second. Then he understands. He shakes his head. “I have to go. I have to lead my men, just like my father did.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I say carefully.
He struggles for a moment to find the next words. “It’s no secret how cruel my father was, or how many atrocities he committed. The Trials, the plagues . . .” Anden trails off a little, the light in his green eyes turning distant as he dwells on memories of someone few of us had ever come to know. “But he fought with his men. You understand this, perhaps more than anyone. He didn’t hang back in a Senate chamber while he sent his troops off to die. When he was young and brought the country from a lawless mess to strict martial law, he was out in the streets and in front of his squadrons. He fought at the warfront itself, shooting down Colonies jets.” Anden pauses to give me a quick look. “I’m not trying to defend anything he did. But if he was anything, he was unafraid. He won his military’s loyalty through action, however ruthless. . . . I want to boost our troops’ morale too, and I can’t do it while hiding out in LA. I’m—”
