Slate and I still wear our masks.
But Julian wasn’t wearing a mask last night. What if he’s Jute and I mistakenly thought he was like me? But if there’s oxygen here, inside the house, then he could be like me.
I’m confused more than anything else.
If I’m not Jute or human, then what am I? I shiver at the question. What am I? Three simple words, one easy question. And the person with the answer is dead.
“Are you alright?” Julian asks me.
“Yes,” I lie. Because I don’t think I will ever be okay. But my answer seems to satisfy him.
“What were you doing in the Chamber last night?” He is adamant.
“I”—pause and choose words carefully—“I went there to steal metal and glass.”
He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. Because there’s nothing else in the Chamber. He knows I went there to steal.
He wants to know why .
I take a deep breath, and when I speak, I'm not here, standing in this small, small room with two strangers. I'm elsewhere, with Father, looking through his scope.
I struggle on his name. Gage . But I can't say it. Nor can I say Father when Slate so strongly believes otherwise. So I settle for the name he chose for himself.
“Galileo… made a scope and saw the Earth.”
I nearly choke on the words I’ve never spoken aloud. But they have heard this story—everyone has. There was magic in those words before Chancellor Kole made them deadly and hated in everyone’s eyes. “And now he's dead. I need… to avenge him somehow, and the best way is to show everyone that Earth exists. That we have a reason to live. That we can do something other than wait for death. I saw it-”
“You saw it?” Two voices explode. Julian's eyes bulge out of his skull. The soldier stiffens beside me.
I want to reach out and pluck the words from their ears.
I saw the Earth, yes. I saw the colors so magnificent, so vivid, so real. It was hope so large and round, green and blue. Hope was tangible until Slate and the other soldiers came.
But only Father and I know what I saw.
“I-I,” I sputter. My heart is pounding. Pounding. Pounding.
“You can trust us.” My heart breaks at the simplicity of Julian’s words. His voice is still and penetrating. As if the world knows when he is about to speak and silences all else.
It hits me like a gust of dry Jutaire wind.
Father betrayed me. I could have handled the truth. He could have told me about his brother, he could have told me he wasn’t my father. Instead, he misused my trust and told me I’m not his daughter moments before his death. Did he denounce me? Or tell me one final truth?
“Lissa, you can trust us,” Slate says softly, and rests his hand on my shoulder. On impulse, I flinch. On impulse, he grimaces. Pain flickers across his face, disappearing before I can breathe.
But Julian noticed. I hear his sharp intake of air. My eyes widen when Slate looks at him with barely concealed fear.
“You knew, didn't you?” Julian's voice is painfully accusing. Anger flashes in his eyes. He isn't referring to Earth. “You've known for years.”
“No,” Slate says, eyes cast down. His voice is choked when he looks back up at Julian. “Not years. Days.”
“Tell her-”
But Slate isn't finished. In a heartbeat, he switches to the soldier who broke Father’s scope with a snarl. “Don’t you dare .”
Silence drops like the bombs that had supposedly destroyed Earth decades ago. The tension reaches up again, sinewy and long, ready to snap.
“I’m not ready yet,” Slate says, more to himself. And before Julian can respond, he leaves. I stare as he slides the door closed again.
If Julian notices my confusion, he doesn’t let on. In fact, he swiftly switches topic. “Did you really see the Earth?”
“Yes.” The word flies free from my lips. The outburst between Julian and Slate disappears from my mind. I’m light-headed, filled with a giddy happiness, at the thought of having another person to trust, despite the
But Julian wasn’t wearing a mask last night. What if he’s Jute and I mistakenly thought he was like me? But if there’s oxygen here, inside the house, then he could be like me.
I’m confused more than anything else.
If I’m not Jute or human, then what am I? I shiver at the question. What am I? Three simple words, one easy question. And the person with the answer is dead.
“Are you alright?” Julian asks me.
“Yes,” I lie. Because I don’t think I will ever be okay. But my answer seems to satisfy him.
“What were you doing in the Chamber last night?” He is adamant.
“I”—pause and choose words carefully—“I went there to steal metal and glass.”
He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. Because there’s nothing else in the Chamber. He knows I went there to steal.
He wants to know why .
I take a deep breath, and when I speak, I'm not here, standing in this small, small room with two strangers. I'm elsewhere, with Father, looking through his scope.
I struggle on his name. Gage . But I can't say it. Nor can I say Father when Slate so strongly believes otherwise. So I settle for the name he chose for himself.
“Galileo… made a scope and saw the Earth.”
I nearly choke on the words I’ve never spoken aloud. But they have heard this story—everyone has. There was magic in those words before Chancellor Kole made them deadly and hated in everyone’s eyes. “And now he's dead. I need… to avenge him somehow, and the best way is to show everyone that Earth exists. That we have a reason to live. That we can do something other than wait for death. I saw it-”
“You saw it?” Two voices explode. Julian's eyes bulge out of his skull. The soldier stiffens beside me.
I want to reach out and pluck the words from their ears.
I saw the Earth, yes. I saw the colors so magnificent, so vivid, so real. It was hope so large and round, green and blue. Hope was tangible until Slate and the other soldiers came.
But only Father and I know what I saw.
“I-I,” I sputter. My heart is pounding. Pounding. Pounding.
“You can trust us.” My heart breaks at the simplicity of Julian’s words. His voice is still and penetrating. As if the world knows when he is about to speak and silences all else.
It hits me like a gust of dry Jutaire wind.
Father betrayed me. I could have handled the truth. He could have told me about his brother, he could have told me he wasn’t my father. Instead, he misused my trust and told me I’m not his daughter moments before his death. Did he denounce me? Or tell me one final truth?
“Lissa, you can trust us,” Slate says softly, and rests his hand on my shoulder. On impulse, I flinch. On impulse, he grimaces. Pain flickers across his face, disappearing before I can breathe.
But Julian noticed. I hear his sharp intake of air. My eyes widen when Slate looks at him with barely concealed fear.
“You knew, didn't you?” Julian's voice is painfully accusing. Anger flashes in his eyes. He isn't referring to Earth. “You've known for years.”
“No,” Slate says, eyes cast down. His voice is choked when he looks back up at Julian. “Not years. Days.”
“Tell her-”
But Slate isn't finished. In a heartbeat, he switches to the soldier who broke Father’s scope with a snarl. “Don’t you dare .”
Silence drops like the bombs that had supposedly destroyed Earth decades ago. The tension reaches up again, sinewy and long, ready to snap.
“I’m not ready yet,” Slate says, more to himself. And before Julian can respond, he leaves. I stare as he slides the door closed again.
If Julian notices my confusion, he doesn’t let on. In fact, he swiftly switches topic. “Did you really see the Earth?”
“Yes.” The word flies free from my lips. The outburst between Julian and Slate disappears from my mind. I’m light-headed, filled with a giddy happiness, at the thought of having another person to trust, despite the
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