Lotus and Thorn (30 page)

Nik looked around at the empty desert, silver in the moonlight. “All I know is that someone set out to destroy this city. And they succeeded.”

I glanced behind us, “Why save Pleiades and the Dome, then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” And he dropped into the dark reclamation pit, his long limbs deftly navigating the scaffolding.

We made it back without seeing a single fly—or Curador for that matter—arriving at the waterfall in the Gardens as the sky turned grey with dawn. But my thoughts were still out in Pleiades with Sarika. And with Lotus and Alejo and Jaesun in the camp. Almost all the pieces were in play now and nightmare scenarios ran themselves through my mind. “If the Dome is damaged in the attack, the Mothers, the children, you . . . you’ll all be lost.”

“The Dome is
already
damaged. We are
already
lost. Your rebellion changes none of that. The Citizens, the Mothers, the Kisaengs, me . . .
all
of us know the risk. You have to respect us enough to let us take our fates in our own hands.”

“Of course I respect you!”

“Then you have to stop thinking of us as children you have to save. Or you’ll make the same mistake I did. If you trust us, then what happens will not be your responsibility . . . it will be
all
of ours.”

I expected to see fear in his eyes, but instead there was hope.

I pressed my forehead into his chest. I wanted to hide there. To rest in this moment before everything started. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself.

I wasn’t safe. Not here. Not anywhere in this Dome.

But Nik folded me into his arms anyway, his hair falling down around me like willow branches. And from inside that cadence of breath and blood and breath, I realized that I’d been searching for the wrong thing. No one can keep you safe.

Not my parents, not Suji, not Nik.

But the people who love you can keep you strong. They were like Nik’s tree—roots twining around and between and through each other until they built something new. Until they made a house of light and air.

I didn’t know what would happen to us tomorrow. Or on Dia de los Muertos. Or after. But whatever was coming for us could not change
this
moment. It could not steal this away.

Standing there in the Gardens, I knew what I wanted
this
moment to be. I tilted my head up, and when I kissed Nik, I saw my way into the future. Everything I was, everything I dreamed of, everything I dared to hope, was echoed back to me. Like voices in a canyon.

But that was for later. Right now I had one more piece of the plan to take care of. And I made myself say the words.

“I have to go back. I have to go back to Edison.”

Nik took a long breath and let it back out again. Then he rested his forehead against mine, and said, “I know.”

THE SKY BEYOND
the Dome brightened as I walked through the forest. The flys were still absent and I silently thanked Ada for the scrap of time I’d stolen with Nik. I placed the quiet, tree-covered moment in my center. It wasn’t much, but it gave me courage to do what I had to do next. And that would have to be enough.

The pale yellow sky became a watered-down blue as I climbed the steps to my house. And up to my room, where I found Riya and Oksun waiting for me.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Did you think we’d be able to sleep?” Riya sat cross-legged on my bed sewing—her fingers a blur of speed as she whipped the needle in and out.

“How’d it go?” Oksun looked up at me from where she sat on the floor, back propped against the bed frame. Spools of thread, thimbles, and bits of fabric were strewn across the floor in front of her. But she didn’t seem to be doing any sewing.

“Good. No one but Sarika saw us.”

“Us?” Riya looked up from her sewing.

“I took Nik with me.”

“Do you think that was wise?” Oksun said.

“It doesn’t matter if it was wise or not. We need all the allies we can get.” I heard the irritation in my voice and realized I was angry that I’d had to leave Nik. Angry that I had to go back to Edison in order for our plan to work. By way of apology and explanation, I said, “I trust him.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” Oksun said.

“And me,” Riya added, without looking up from her sewing.

I got us all mugs of coffee from the food synthesizer, gulping mine down as I tried to shake off my exhaustion. There would be no sleep today. “Sarika’s traveling out to Tierra Muerta to talk to Lotus and the Indignos. I imagine they’ll be more than happy to liberate the LOTUS wards. And she likes your idea of using fireworks as signals, Oksun.”

“Good. I’ve been going over the plan all night, and I think it’s a good one. As soon as it gets dark on Dia de los Muertos, the Indignos will cross the Reclamation Fields and come down through the tunnels to evacuate Taschen and the others.” Oksun moved a blue spool of thread near her left knee that’d been sitting on a fat pin cushion—so it marched its way toward a larger red spool.

And suddenly, I saw it. This was not simply remnants from sewing, this was a map. From left to right, the pin cushion was the Reclamation Fields. The thimbles represented Pleiades. And the large circle of thread was clearly the Dome. Inside it, clusters of purple, yellow, and white spools sat in seemingly strategic positions.

“The night before the evacuation, bombs will be planted along the magfly lines, here, here, and here.” She pointed to spots along a circled measuring tape running through the “Dome.”

“By the time the Indignos infiltrate the tunnels, the Kisaengs
will be distracting Edison and the Curadores inside the Sanctum.” Oksun moved the yellow “Curador” spools into place along with the bright purple “Kisaeng” ones. Then she added a pair of tiny dagger-sharp scissors which I presumed were Edison.

Oksun then turned to the semicircle of thimbles that was Pleiades. “When the fireworks start, Sarika and her sympathizers will use the noise and distraction to grab the Abuelos and disarm their guards. Once she and her sympathizers have control of the Abuelos and Pleiades, they’ll set off . . .” Oksun looked at me.

“Sarika said they’d use red.”

“They’ll set off red fireworks so we’ll know Pleiades is secure and we can work on getting the Dome’s magfly tunnel open in case we need backup.”

Oksun shifted her attention back to the Dome. “Once the Indignos have rescued all the Citizens and the wards are clear”—she marched the blue and red spools back out toward Pleiades—“the Indignos will blow up the whole LOTUS facility and the Mothers and Kisaengs will know that it’s time to begin our own coup in earnest.

“Kisaengs will trap Edison and most of the Curadores in the Sanctum. While the Mothers”—she gestured to the white spools—“take out the magfly lines to slow down anyone else. Hopefully, that’ll give Ada enough time to take control of the main computer.”

With a flourish, Oksun triumphantly placed the largest white spool in the center of the Dome. “And then . . .”

“Then happily ever after!” I finished glibly.

Oksun was right, it was a good and detailed plan. What was less clear was what the aftermath looked like. What would happen once the Mothers and the Kisaengs had control of the Dome? All I could do was trust that we would make it work.

I didn’t like the nebulousness, but there was something even less pleasant still missing from the plan.

“There’s one more factor to account for: Edison.” My stomach twisted at the idea of crawling back to the man who attacked me.

“We’ve been talking about that.” Riya looked at Oksun, a little nervous. And Oksun nodded her encouragement. “And we think . . . I think . . . what you need is a really phenomenal dress.”

She stood up on the bed, showing off what she’d been working on—a cascade of shimmering gilt fabric unfurled all the way to the floor.

“Try it on!” said Riya, practically dancing with impatience. “So you can get the full effect.”

I slipped off my dusty clothes and pulled the dress over my head. The almost-transparent fabric shivered down my body.

It
was
phenomenal. The long, sleeveless dress was a warm, gleaming gold with a hint of rose—almost the same shade as my skin. The neckline was steep, inching down between my breasts. And the back of the gown draped low as well. The whole thing gave the effect of wearing nothing, but being intensely elegant while doing so.

“Don’t forget the gloves,” Riya said, handing me a swath of gossamer fabric.

But gloves weren’t quite the right description. The thing was all one piece—like a wrap with sheer, lustrous sleeves and with gloves that finished in golden rings instead of fingers. Riya helped me thread my fingers through the six rings attached to the end of each glove—the sleeve stretching up one arm, across the back of my shoulders, and down the other arm.

The best effect of the wrap-gloves was something I could only glimpse in the wall of mirrors behind me—it also had a hood that
draped gracefully down my back. I marveled at Riya’s genius. “Like the one on my first dress.”

“Yep . . . a nod to your first night together.”

“Thank you.” I hugged Riya. “For this and for everything.”

I looked at myself in the mirrors. The dress was a triumph. In one outfit, Riya had laid me bare, yet kept me hidden. I marveled at the beauty of it. “I can’t believe you managed all this in one night. It’s incredible!”

“Oksun helped too . . . no surprise that she’s impeccable at detail work.” Riya leaned down and kissed Oksun’s cheek.

Oksun shrugged off the compliment, but was clearly pleased. “We wanted you to have to grovel as little as possible.”

If you’d asked me a month ago if a dress could be a weapon, I’d have said no. But this one was. It was a subservient apology perfectly mixed with seduction. And wearing it, I felt ready to face Edison.

• • •

That night, I showed up late to dinner. There was a buzzy, relaxed atmosphere by the time I walked into the tent and everyone already had drinks in their hands.

Riya noticed me first, switching to a dreamy, a cappella ballad to match my entrance. She tapped her hand against the guitar—an intricate cadence playing counterpoint to my heartbeat. Her naked voice soared, its eerie high notes stretching thin across the air.

It’s what the prince must’ve felt like as he walked through Briar Rose’s paralyzed city—Kisaengs and Curadores all mesmerized. Their eyes followed me as I cut through the crowd. Until, finally, I was standing in front of Edison.

He was with Marisol, her arm looped through his. For a second,
I met her gaze and what I saw there disturbed me—resignation and a deep sadness. But there was no time to worry about Marisol. I lifted my eyes to Edison, facing him for the first time in two weeks. Trying not to flinch as I remembered the white-hot pain of my body slamming into the wall.

He took in every inch of me, and though I felt the heat of his eyes as they raked across my body, they no longer burned me.

“Dance with me?” I stretched out a sparkling hand and Edison took it.

Riya transitioned into a different song, a quicker one that soared and flitted. People stepped back, making an instant dance floor for us. Marisol was swallowed up by the crowd as Edison glided me around the room. My feet barely touched the floor as he led completely, his arms propping me up, moving me where I should go.

“You’re radiant tonight,” said Edison with a satisfied smile. “I’m glad you decided to join us again.”

There was something breathtaking about basking in that smile—being someone’s dress-up doll. Being the very reflection of what someone craved. And I realized that
this
was the Leica that Edison had wanted all along. The fighter, yes . . . but broken.

• • •

Lying in bed later that night, I let myself wonder
when
Edison first decided he would have me. Was it while he watched me training out in Pleiades? Or when he heard my voice over the radio? Or when he came back for me in the Indigno camp?

Then I silenced the questions. I would no longer try to guess Edison’s mind. Instead, I closed myself to it. And like Marisol had counseled that first night, I made myself into the Leica that Edison dreamed of.

“We should do something to celebrate our reunion.” I kept my voice light, kissing his cheek.

Edison’s arm was flung around me—heavy, anchoring me to the mattress.

“What sort of celebration did you have in mind?” Edison ran his hand along my arm, across my fingers.

“In the fairy tales they always have parties with masks and elaborate dresses.” I knew it was a risk to ask him so soon, but Dia de los Muertos was about a week away. So it was now or never.

“I always imagined you hated that kind of thing.” There was an indulgent amusement in his voice. I froze, thinking I’d blown it.

What would this new Leica do?
I stuck my lip out a little, making my eyes wide, and said, “It’s just that Dia de los Muertos is coming up and I can’t stand the thought of hearing all those fireworks and not having any fun myself.”

I was sure the pouting was too much—that he wouldn’t buy it.

Edison stared at me. Taking in my whole face. And then he smiled. Accepting my lie as the truth he so profoundly wanted to believe.

“Of course, you shall have your festival. You shall have whatever you want, sweet Leica.” Edison cupped his hand under my chin. “I hadn’t realized how much you missed your home. Anything to make you happy again.”

• • •

When I opened my eyes the next morning, Edison was still in my room—but he was staring at me from a nearby chair. I instinctively pulled the covers up to my throat.
How long had he been sitting there, watching me?

“I missed you, Leica.” He was in a much different mood from
the night before. He leaned over, tucking my hair behind my ear. “We’re the same, you and I. We were
meant
to be together.”

I saw the truth of it in his eyes as he came and sat on the edge of my bed, folding his hand into mine. Our fingers intertwining. He
believed
what he was saying. I forced myself not to pull away as he kissed my forehead. “I have something for you,” he said.

“What?” My attempt at excitement came out as a squeak, as I remembered the last “present” he gave me.

He handed me a long, thin box with a ribbon around it. Inside, lying on a satin cushion, was a syringe with a thick needle. Fear pumped through my veins.
Was I about to join Taschen down in the ward?

“This is Grimm’s tracker,” Edison said. “I want you to have it.”

“Thank you?” I didn’t mean it to come out as a question, but the image of Grimm’s body lying crushed on my table flooded my mind. Wires and microchips covered with blood. Had Edison killed him for
this
?

Riya’s words came back to me:
There’s the courage it takes to fight . . . But there’s also the courage to endure.
It didn’t matter what happened next. It didn’t matter what was in that needle, I’d do whatever it took to save my sister.

“Come here. I’ll help you,” Edison said, patting his knees. I got out of bed and obeyed, sitting on his lap. He threaded one arm around my waist, and in the mirrors, I watched him bring the needle up, so it was hovering behind my right shoulder. “Hold still.”

There was a flash of pain just above my shoulder blade and an ache deep in my neck muscles. Then it was over and Edison was kissing the wound on my back, my blood red on his lips.

“There now. I’ll never lose you again.”