Prodigy (Legend #2)

Prodigy (Legend #2) Page 42

“As of today,” the Elector says in a prerecorded video, “Eden Bataar Wing is officially freed from military service and, as thanks for his contributions, exempt from the Trials. All others being transported along the warfront have been released to their families as well.”

I have to rub my eyes and read the captions again.

They’re still there. The Elector has freed Eden.

Suddenly I can’t feel the cold air anymore. I can’t feel anything. My legs feel weak. My breath keeps time with the hammering of my heart. This can’t be right. The Elector is probably announcing this publicly so he can lure me back into the Republic and into his service. He’s trying to trick me and make himself look good. There’s no way he would’ve released Eden—and all the others, the boy I’d seen on the train—of his own accord. No possible way.

No possible way? Even after everything June had told me, even after what Kaede just said? Even now, I don’t trust Anden? What’s wrong with me?

Then, as I continue watching, the Elector’s recorded address makes way for a video showing Eden being escorted out of a courthouse, shackle-free and dressed in clothes that usually belong on the child of an elite family.

His blond curls are neatly brushed. He searches the streets with blind eyes, but he’s smiling. I push my hand deeper into the snow in an attempt to steady myself. Eden looks healthy, well taken care of. When was this filmed?

Anden’s newscast finally ends, and now the video shows footage of the failed assassination attempt followed by a reel of warfront battles. The captions are wildly different from what I’d see in the Republic.

FAILED ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON REPUBLIC’S NEW ELECTOR PRIMO, THE LATEST SIGN OF UNREST IN REPUBLIC

The caption is wrapped up by a smaller line in the corner of the screen that says THIS BROADCAST BROUGHT TO YOU BY EVERGREEN ENT. The now-familiar circular symbol is beside it.

“Make up your own mind about Anden,” Kaede mutters. She stops to wipe snowflakes off her eyelashes.

I was wrong. The certainty of this sits in my stomach like a dead weight, a rock of guilt for turning so viciously on June when she’d tried to explain all of it to me in the underground shelter. The awful things I’d said to her. I think of the strange, unsettling ads I’ve seen here, the crumbling living quarters of the poor, the disappointment I feel in knowing that the Colonies aren’t the shining beacon my father imagined. His dream of glittering skyscrapers and a better life was just that.

I remember my dream of what I’d do after all this was over . . . run into the Colonies with June, Tess, Eden . . . start a new life, leave the Republic behind. Maybe I’ve been trying to escape to the wrong place and run away from the wrong things. I think of all the times I clashed with soldiers. The hatred I had for Anden and everyone who grew up rich. Then I picture the slums that I’d grown up in. I despise the Republic, don’t I? I want to see them collapse, yeah? But only now do I make the distinction—I despise the Republic’s laws, but I love the Republic itself. I love the people. I’m not just doing this for the Elector; I’m doing this for them.

“Are the speakers at the Capitol Tower still hooked up to the JumboTrons?” I ask Kaede.

“As far as I know, yeah,” she replies. “With all the commotion over the last forty-eight hours, no one’s noticed the modified wiring.”

My eyes go to the rooftops, where fighter jets lie in wait. “Are you as good of a pilot as you say?” I ask.

Kaede shrugs her shoulders and grins. “Better.”

Slowly, a plan starts to form in my mind.

Another pair of Colonies soldiers runs by. This time, an unsettling feeling creeps down my neck. These soldiers, like the last ones, also turn down the alley we’d come through. I make sure there are no more coming, then hurry out into the darkness of the street. No, no. Not now.

Kaede follows close behind. “What is it?” she whispers. “You just turned as white as a goddy snowstorm.”

I’d left her alone and vulnerable in a place I once thought would be our safe haven. I’d left her to the wolves. And if something happens to her now because of me . . . I break into a run. “I think they’re heading toward the hospital,” I say. “For June.”

I SNAP OUT OF MY DREAM, LIFT MY HEAD, AND MY EYES sweep the area. The illusion of Metias vanishes. I’m in a hospital room, and Day is nowhere to be seen. It’s the middle of the night. Hadn’t we been in here earlier? I have a vague recollection of Day at my bedside, and Day stepping out onto the balcony to greet a cheering crowd. Now he’s not here. Where did he go?

It takes me another second, light-headed as I am, to figure out what woke me up. I am not alone in the room. There are half a dozen Colonies soldiers in here. A tall soldier with long red hair hoists her gun and points it at me.

“That’s the one?” she asks, keeping me in her line of fire.

An older male soldier nods. “Yup. Didn’t know Day was hiding a Republic soldier. This girl is none other than June Iparis. The Republic’s most well-known prodigy. DesCon Corp will be happy. This prisoner’s going to be worth a lot of money.” He gives me a cold smile. “Now, my dear. Tell us where Day went.”

Sixteen minutes have passed. The soldiers have secured my hands behind my back with a temporary set of cuffs. My mouth is gagged. Three of them stand near the room’s open door, while the others guard the balcony. I groan. Even though my fever is gone and my joints don’t ache, my head still feels dizzy. (Where did Day go?)

One of the soldiers talks into an earpiece. “Yes,” he says. A pause, and then, “We’re moving her to a cell. DesCon’s going to get a lot of good info out of this one. We’ll send Day along for questioning once we get hold of him.” Another soldier is holding the door open with his boot. They’re waiting for a gurney to arrive, I realize, so they can take me away. That means I probably have less than two or three minutes to get myself out of this.

I clench down on my gag, force down my nausea, and swallow. My thoughts and memories are getting jumbled up. I blink, wondering if I’m hallucinating. The Patriots are being sponsored by the Republic. Why didn’t I see that earlier? It was so obvious, right from the beginning—the elaborate furnishings in the apartment, how easily Razor could get us from place to place without getting caught.

Now I watch the soldier continue to talk into his earpiece. How do I warn Day now? He must have left through the balcony doors—when he comes back, I’ll be gone and they’ll be here, ready to question him. They might even think we’re Republic spies. I run a finger repeatedly across my paper clip ring.

The paper clip ring.

My finger stops moving. Then I inch it gradually off my ring finger behind my back and try to unfurl its spiraling metal wires. A soldier glances at me, but I close my eyes and let out a soft moan of pain through my gag. He returns to his conversation. I let my fingers run down the spiraling ring and pull it straight. The paper clips were twisted six times. I unfurl the first two. Then I straighten out the rest of the paper clip and bend it into what I hope is a stretched-out Z shape. The movement makes both of my arms cramp painfully.

Suddenly one of the balcony soldiers stops talking to check the streets below. He stays like that for a while, his eyes searching. If he heard Day, Day must have vanished again. The soldier scrutinizes the roofs, then loses interest and goes back into his stance. Far down the hospital corridor, I hear people talking and the unmistakable sound of wheels against the tiled floor. They’re bringing the gurney.

I have to hurry. I insert one, then two of the bent paper clips into the lock on my cuffs. My arms are killing me, but I don’t have time to rest them. Gingerly I push one of the wires around in the lock, feeling it scrape against the lock’s interior until it finally hits the tumbler. I twist the paper clip, pushing the tumbler aside.

“DesCon’s on their way with some backup,” one soldier murmurs. As he says it, I move the second paper clip and hear the pin in the lock give a tiny, almost imperceptible click. Two soldiers and a nurse wheel the gurney into my room, stop for a moment inside the doorway, then roll it in my direction. The lock on my chains opens—I feel the cuffs coming off my hands with a soft clank. One soldier fixes milky blue eyes on me and pulls his thick lips into a frown. He notices the subtle change in my expression, and heard the clicking sound as well. His eyes flick to my arms.

If I’m going to make a break for it, now’s my only chance.

Suddenly I twist to the side of the bed and jump off. The chains fall back into the bed and my feet hit the floor. Dizziness hits me like a wall of water, but I manage to keep it at bay. The soldier with his gun pointed at me shouts out a warning, but he’s too slow. I kick out at the gurney as hard as I can—it topples over, taking down one soldier with it. Another soldier grabs at me, but I duck and manage to slip out of his grasp. My eyes focus on the balcony.

But there are still three soldiers standing over there. They rush at me. I avoid two of them, but the third catches me around my shoulders and wraps an arm across my neck. He throws me down, knocking the breath out of me. I struggle frantically to free myself.

“Stay down!” one exclaims, while another tries to snap a new set of cuffs on my wrists. He lets out a howl as I twist around and sink my teeth deep into his arm.

No good. I’m captured, I’m arrested.

Suddenly the balcony’s glass door shatters into a million pieces. The soldiers spin around, bewildered. Everything is whirling. In the midst of shouts and footsteps, I see two people breaking into the room from the balcony. One’s a girl I recognize. Kaede? I think incredulously.

The other is Day.

Kaede kicks one soldier in the neck—Day barrels into the soldier holding me down and knocks him to the floor. Before anyone can react, Day’s up again. He grabs my hands and yanks me to my feet.

Kaede’s already at the balcony ledge. “Don’t shoot them!” I hear a soldier call out behind us. “They’re valuable property!” Day rushes us onto the balcony, then leaps onto the railing’s ledge in one bound. He and Kaede try to pull me upright as two other guards run toward us.

But I start sinking to my knees. My sudden burst of energy is no match for my lingering illness—I’m too weak. Day jumps back down from the ledge and kneels beside me. Kaede lets out a whoop, tackling one of the soldiers to the ground. “See you there!” she yells back at us. Then she rushes inside the room amid all the confusion, throwing the guards off. I see her slip out of their grasp and vanish down the corridor.

Day takes my arms, then wraps them around his neck. “Don’t let go.” When he straightens, I tighten my legs around him and cling to his back as hard as I can. He climbs onto the balcony ledge, boots crunching through broken glass, and leaps onto the outcropping that wraps around the second floor. Immediately I understand where we’re going. We’re all heading for the roof, where fighter jets lie in wait. Kaede is taking the stairs. We’re traveling by a more direct route.