Georgette and I exchange puzzled glances before doing as he instructs. Leo directs us to a leather-bound copy of Gaia’s Bible. Behind it is a tiny depression within the wood that requires us to tap in a specific sequence. With a click, the bookshelf swings open, revealing another stairwell.
After replacing the bible, we step inside and pull the door closed. It consists of thick metal, reminding me of the secret passageway in the palace ballroom.
Georgette reaches into the front of her backpack. “I’ll take care of Leo’s friends.”
I’m so worried about seeing Mom that it takes a moment to realize she’s referring to the Nobles.
As we reach the bottom of the stairs, another door opens. A young man in his early twenties with blond hair that flops over his face stares at us through hazel eyes. He looks like an older version of the twins. His eyes widen a fraction, then he calms his expression.
“Leo?” I ask.
He steps aside, his eyes fixed on Georgette. “Mrs. Calico is eager to see you.”
I rush into a white space large enough to fit our kitchen and living room. Mom sits on an L-shaped sofa with the twins slumbering at her side. There’s a steaming pot of tea on the low table in front of her, but she hasn’t poured herself a cup.
The room has a kitchen area and a sleeping zone at the far right of the room. Georgette rushes past me toward a pair of dark-haired men in black armor lying unconscious on one of two large beds. My gaze flicks to the monitors on their ears, and I suppress a shudder.
Mom rises from a sofa, still clad in her Harvester uniform. Deep creases run along the fabric from where it dried badly, and her apron is missing. The neckline of her tunic is torn, and its left arm slashed.
She has re-braided her hair, cleaned her face, and powdered over a bruise that covers its left side, but her eyes are bloodshot, and her bottom lip trembles.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” she says without moving from the sofa.
Words race through my mind. I’m not sure how much time has passed since the stadium. It feels like hours, but the emotions I couldn’t feel when I discovered Scorpio’s true identity tear through my chest. Guilt. Anger. Disgust. Burning resentment toward the queen rises to the back of my throat and chokes off my words.
An apology won’t bring back Dad. I could vow to punish the people who sent us into that stadium, but Mom was never about revenge.
“I didn’t know, Mom.”
Her face crumples, and she bows her head.
A large hand lands between my shoulder blades. I glance up into Leo’s hazel eyes and remember the same colored irises staring lifelessly into the artificial light.
“She needs you,” Leo says.
I nod, but my feet won’t move. “Mom—”
“We could have kept running instead of—” She claps a hand over her mouth and slumps down to the sofa.
My body sways and I feel like a sapling caught in a sandstorm. She blames me for what happened to Dad. Leo holds my arm and guides me to the armchair next to Mom’s sofa.
She stares into her lap. “I shouldn’t have said that, Zea. Sorry.”
“You’re right.” I stare at the armrest, not daring to meet Mom’s eyes. “It was just like the queen to manipulate me like that.”
Mom shakes her head. “If you hadn’t acted, they would have forced him to kill us. Leo explained that they have the technology to make a person move against their will.”
“They’ll pay for what they did,” I say.
“Yes.” She lifts her head and stares at the wall screen.
It replays the scene from outside the palace that took place within minutes of the Red Runners seizing control. Huge drones spray bullets from the sky on protestors, who scatter and fall. Next is a timetable outlining the details of a newly imposed curfew.
Mom swipes at her eyes. “I used to think Carolina was a lunatic, but she saw what I refused to acknowledge.”
My heart sinks. “She has gone too far.”
Her eyes turn as hard as quartz. “Has she?”
“Who picked you up when they released you from the stadium?”
She hesitates. “Leo, Amon, and Troy.”
“Who Carolina said were oppressors,” I say.
Shoulders sagging, Mom turns to the unconscious Nobles and exhales a long breath. I press the heel of my hand into my aching chest. It’s only been a few hours since Dad died, and Mom is still hurting, frightened, trying to make sense of Queen Damascena’s cruelty.
I can’t expect this to be a heartfelt reunion of tears and hugs. Not when her and the twins are still in danger. Not when neither of us have fully processed what’s happened, and I’m still running on adrenaline and the remnants of emotion suppressants.
Weeks ago, I was the one who wanted a revolution. I wanted the Nobles imprisoned and punished for thriving while we suffered to provide them with comfortable lives. Now, it’s me telling Mom that they’re not the same as Queen Damascena. It’s hard to believe how the actions of a small group of people can effect such devastating changes.
Leo sits with Georgette on the edge of the bed and places kisses on her lowered eyelids. I think this is the boyfriend she mentioned who worked for the gossip rags. He raises a familiar-looking bottle of water, and she takes hesitant sips.
“You’re bleeding,” Mom says.
“It’s not mine.” I turn back to her, hoping she doesn’t ask for an explanation.
She nods and stares at her hands. “Forgive me, Zea.”
“I should be apologizing to you.” My hand twitches toward hers, but I pull back. Dad is dead because of me, and I doubt she would accept my comfort. “If I could—”
An explosion sounds through the walls. The twins flinch awake and dissolve into frightened tears. One of them has a black eye, and the other a swollen cheek. I jump out of my seat in a burst of panic.
“It’s alright.” Leo points a remote at the wall, lessening the sound. “They can’t get into the safe room.”
Still weeping, the twins bury their faces in Mom’s chest. She wraps her arms around the boys and croons words of comfort. I stand over my family, yearning to join the hug like the last time I saw them in Fort Meeman-Shelby, but I can’t. If it wasn’t for me, they’d be at home in Rugosa, and Dad would be alive.
I turn to the wall screen, where a mix of rebels in Harvester uniform storm the mansion’s hallway and separate into pairs. Leo switches to a view of the library, where two rebels who move like Amstraadi sweep hand-held monitors along the bookshelves and floor.
“Will they find us?” I ask.
“They shouldn’t.” Georgette steps back from the unconscious Nobles, whose left ears are firmly encased in silk. The horror in her eyes has faded to resignation.
“Let’s turn it off, then.” I flick my head at the twins, who still sob into Mom’s chest.
Leo nods and switches back to the Government Channel. According to him, it’s the only thing available on Netface, and it’s set to newsflash, which means nobody can turn it off. I reach across the armchair and run my fingers down a little blond head.
“Zea?” Yoseph draws back and stares at me through tear-streaked eyes. “A lady pushed us into a dungeon.”
I stretch out my arms and let him climb into my lap.