Once (19 page)

“I knew it,” Harper spat. I pulled the blanket around me, ducking out of the light, scrambling to find my clothes. “I should've come earlier. I knew something was wrong when you didn't show at the hangar. It's nearly eight thirty. She's got to get out of here.” I could only see his finger pointing into the depths of the plane. I pulled on my pants and socks and fastened my bra behind my back. I slipped my feet into the black boots, buttoning my shirt as I started toward the door.

Eight thirty. Beatrice must have already entered my room to wake me, was probably stalling now as the maids set up for breakfast. In less than half an hour the King would stride into the dining hall and sit down at the massive chair at the end of the banquet table. The meal always started at nine o'clock, not a minute later. Always.

“I'm going,” I said, my throat dry. I ducked out the door, squeezing Caleb's arm in good-bye. “I'll just leave the way I came.” Harper was wringing his hands together. I darted down the metal staircase, fumbling around in my pockets, looking for the folded map.

“Wait!” Caleb called after me. He pulled his shoe on as he ran, hopping part of the way. “You can't go on those roads. There could be checkpoints set up. I'll take you.” He reached out his hand for me to hold.

“You shouldn't.” I shook my head as we started toward the door of the hangar. We ran under plane after plane, our footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. “There's more at risk for you. I don't want you getting involved in this.”

But he followed anyway, striding behind me as I pushed out the door and into the blinding light. He reached for my arm, pulling me back. His eyes met mine for a brief second. “I can't let you go alone,” he pleaded. He plucked the map from my hands and tore it in half. “Please just follow behind me. Stay a few yards back.”

Then he was off, darting through the Outlands, the decrepit buildings spitting out the City's first shift of workers. The morning was colder than usual, the wind kicking up dust and garbage. A foil bag drifted past,
DORITOS
printed on its side. I kept my head down to blend in with everyone else. We were all moving toward the City center, wearing identical red vests, a quickness to our steps. We moved past another old hotel and an office building with burned-out windows. A row of houses was boarded up, the walls cracked, sand piled on the window-sills. In less than ten minutes we reached the City limit, and Caleb turned down a street lined with thin trees. I followed, the paved road hard beneath my feet.

As we got closer to the Palace the crowd thinned out. It was harder to avoid being noticed. A woman strode past with two small children. The little girl pointed at my face. “It's the Princess, Mom,” she said, staring at me over her shoulder as I passed.

I kept walking, the wind pushing my hair away from my face. I was thankful when I heard her mother's frustrated
Shhhhhh
. “Enough, Lizzie,” she chided. “Stop saying silly things.”

Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Right now the King was sitting down at the table, staring at the empty seat beside him, his fork clinking nervously against the edge of his plate. Maybe he was searching my room. Beatrice would tell them I'd been there when she'd left me the night prior, and she wouldn't be lying—I had. I had stayed in bed until she was down the hall, in her own room, her door shut. I could make up a story. Needing a drink in the middle of the night, feeling claustrophobic in that suite. Maybe the door lock had broken, letting me out. But whatever happened, whatever story I chose, one thing was certain: From now on it would be nearly impossible to leave the Palace.

We were getting closer. Caleb walked confidently, unhurried, both hands in his pockets. He looked over his shoulder occasionally to make sure I was still there. We passed a baseball field I remembered from my walk home from the hangar.
We can't be far now
, I told myself, quickening my steps.

We started through an old parking lot and down a narrow road. The monorail flew by above our heads, the well-dressed citizens sitting comfortably in the train's wide cars. The wind was relentless, the sun hidden behind a flat gray blanket of cloud. As we crept along the old Flamingo hotel the intersection opened up before us to reveal a small patch of the main road.
One more block
, I thought, watching Caleb edge toward the corner, where the narrow street emptied out beside the Palace's front fountain. He would turn right and I would take the overpass to the other side of the road, blending in with the workers in the Palace mall.

When he was steps from the corner he kneeled down, pretending to tie his shoe. He looked at me, his mouth turned up in a half smile, his green eyes bright. We had made it. I didn't know when I would see him again, or how, but we would find a way. I touched the rim of my cap, a barely perceptible salute.

Then he stood. He took his last few steps, turning right on the main road to loop back toward the Outlands. I climbed up the overpass stairs, keeping my head down to avoid being seen. It took me a second to hear the soldiers' loud voices, to see the crowd that had assembled by the Palace's front entrance, workers and patrons alike, all trying to get inside. The troops had closed the building, blocking off the street just north and just south of it. We were trapped.

I froze on the overpass, watching Caleb's panicked face as he approached the Palace. He darted behind some workers, then turned, trying to go back the way we came, down the narrow street. It was too late. A soldier at the end of the checkpoint was already stepping out of line, his eyes fixed on the stranger in the wrinkled pants and partially untucked shirt—the only one who had come toward the Palace, then turned away.

I didn't think. I just ran. I pushed through the crowded overpass and down the stairs, darting across the street. Caleb was walking quickly in the opposite direction, his head down, trying to disappear into the crowd. The soldier was nearly on him. Then he reached out and grabbed Caleb's collar, yanking him back.

“It's him!” he called out to the others.

I pumped my arms as fast as I could, not stopping until I was right behind him. I jumped on the soldier's back, trying to pull him down, to give Caleb just a few seconds—a chance—but my body was too light to do damage.

Another soldier grabbed me from behind. “I've got the Princess,” he called, and then we were in the center of all of them, soldiers swarming around us, one taking hold of my hands, another my legs.

“Caleb!” I yelled, straining to see through the men moving frantically around me. “Where are you?”

I twisted my wrists, trying to free myself, but the restraints were too tight. They dragged me back toward the Palace entrance, through the low row of shrubs, past the fountains and winged, marble statues. The last thing I saw was a soldier's baton, the black rod rising above the feverish crowd, then landing, with a terrible thud, on Caleb's back.

“SO. CLARA WAS RIGHT THEN. SHE DID SEE YOU LEAVING THE
Palace that night,” the King began. I didn't respond. He paced the length of his office, his hands behind his back. “How long have you been sneaking around like this, lying to me, to all of us?”

As I was dragged into the Palace mall, he had been right there waiting for me. He ordered the men to let me go so they didn't scare the employees stuck inside the stores. A woman in the restored jewelry shop peeked out from behind a glass case of necklaces, watching them untie my hands, my father keeping a firm grip on my arm. “Genevieve,” he said, his voice flat. “I asked you a question.”

“I don't know,” I managed. I rubbed at my wrists, the skin still red from where they had tightened the restraints. I kept seeing Caleb's body on the ground. The troops surrounding him. One soldier had turned away from the pack and spat on the side of the road.
Wish I could shoot him myself
.

The King snorted. “You don't know. Well, you're going to have to figure it out. You could've been kidnapped, held for ransom—do you have any idea how dangerous that was? There are people in this City who want me dead, who believe I'm ruining this country. You're lucky you weren't killed.”

I stared out the window. I couldn't see the City. Beyond the glass the world was all sky, a gray expanse that stretched on forever. “Where is he?” I asked. “Where are they taking him?”

“That's not your business anymore,” the King said. “I want to know how you got out, where you were last night, what you were doing, and who you were with. I want the names of the people who helped you. You have to understand, he was just using you to get to me.”

“You have it wrong.” I shook my head. I stared into the carpet, at the neat, vacuumed lines crushed by footprints. “You don't know him. You have no idea what you're talking about.”

At this he exploded, his face turning a deep pink. “Do not tell
me
what
I
know,” he yelled. “That boy has been living in the wild for years now, with no respect for the law. Do you know that these aren't the first soldiers he's attacked? When he escaped the labor camps he nearly killed one of the guards.”

“I don't believe that,” I said.

“You have to understand, Genevieve. People who live outside the regime have been perpetuating the chaos. We are trying to build, and they are trying to destroy.”

“Build at what cost?” I asked, unable to stand it anymore. I twisted the cap in my hands, bending the brim until it nearly folded in half. “Isn't that always the question? When will you be satisfied? When every person in this country is under your control? My friends have given their lives. Arden and Pip and Ruby are still in there.” The King turned away at the mention of their names.

The silence swelled around us. I stared at his back, the answer becoming clear before I even asked the question. “You aren't going to let them go, are you? You were never going to.” He still wouldn't look at me.

He took measured breaths, each one slow, drawn out, keeping horrible time. “I can't,” he said finally. “I can't make an exception for them. So many young women have given their service. It wouldn't be right.”

“You made an exception for me,” I tried.

He shook his head. “You are my
daughter
.”

I felt like I was choking. I remembered Pip's face as she curled up beside me, her cheek pressed against my pillow. The lights had already gone out at School. Ruby was asleep. We stayed there, our hands clasped together, moonlight streaming in from the window.
Promise me as soon as we get to the City we'll find a dress store
. She pinched her collar, the same starched white nightgown everyone else wore.
I hope I never see another one of these again
.

“By blood,” I muttered now. “I'm your daughter by blood. I don't belong here, in this place. Not with you.”

Finally, he met my gaze. Something in his face changed. His eyes were small and calculating, looking at me as if it were the first time. “Where do you belong then? With him?”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.

The King rubbed his temple, letting out a small, sad laugh. “That
cannot
happen. People expect you to be with someone like Charles—not some escapee from the labor camps. Charles is the type of man you're supposed to marry.”

“Who are you to say what I'm supposed to do? Who I'm supposed to be with?” I shot back. “You've known me for less than a week. Where were you when I was alone in that house with my mother, when I was listening to her die?”

“I told you,” the King said, an edge to his voice. “I would've been there if I could have.”

“Right,” I said. “And you would've told your wife about her—it just wasn't the right time. And you'll get to restoring the Outlands, to giving the workers proper housing, just as soon as you put up zoos and museums and amusement parks and restore the three colonies in the east.”

The King held up his hand to silence me. “That is quite enough. Whatever they told you, Genevieve, whatever they said about me—they have an agenda that you cannot begin to know. They want to turn you against me.”

“It isn't like that.” I shook my head, hating how the certainty in his voice created so much doubt in mine. “Caleb would've died in that labor camp if he hadn't escaped. You don't know him.”

“I don't need to,” the King said, stalking toward me. “I know enough. Now, I'm going to ask you one more time. I need to know if he was working with anyone, if you heard anything about any plans to attack the Palace. Did anyone threaten you?”

I fixed Caleb's words in my mind, all the things he'd said that first night below ground, when he'd told me of the dissidents who'd been tortured. “He wasn't working with anyone,” I said quietly, wishing the King would look away. “He was only in the City because of me.”

“How'd you get out of your suite?” he asked. “Did Beatrice help you?”

“No—she had no idea,” I said, my palms pressed together. “I figured out the code. A door in the east stairwell was unlocked. I stole the uniform from an apartment in the Outlands.” I thought of the airplane sitting abandoned in the hangar, the blankets crumpled, the lanterns dark. They would change the code now, have soldiers stationed at my door. The Palace would be impossible to leave. This would've been unbearable, had Caleb still been in the Outlands. Had I any reason left to escape.