Tandem (17 page)

Someone had fastened back the curtains and opened a few of the doors; the smell of roses and lilacs wafted in on a breeze, and a fountain gurgled somewhere in the distance. I stepped onto the terrace and stood at the railing; the garden was filled with sculptured topiaries, painstakingly cultivated flower beds, and rows of trimmed rosebushes. A manicured lawn stretched out at my feet like a verdant carpet. Juliana’s bedroom—my new, very pretty prison—was situated in the northernmost point of the star-shaped Castle, on the third floor, facing inward toward the gardens—and the Tower. Taller than any of the surrounding buildings, the Tower was visible from practically every vantage point, a not-so-subtle reminder that wherever I went, whatever I did, the General was watching. I went back into the bedroom, letting the imposing Tower recede behind a filmy curtain.

Gloria started to say something, but was interrupted by a sweet chime emanating from the LCD panel on the inside of the door.

“Breakfast,” Thomas said. He pressed a button on the panel that slid the door open, and in came an attendant wheeling a cart. The smell of eggs and toast reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since prom night. It took a great deal of effort not to dive for the cart before the attendant even had time to lift the cover off the plate.

“You’re excused,” Gloria told the attendant. He nodded and left the way he came.

“That was rude,” I said, eyeing the plate. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Could I just sit down at the little table in the corner and start eating, or was there some sort of rule I needed to follow?

“None of that,” Gloria said. “We have a system here, Sasha, protocol that must be adhered to. The domestics aren’t your friends; they’re your employees. You tell them if you need something and they get it for you. That’s it. No chatting. Juliana wouldn’t do that.”

“She doesn’t say thank you?” A thought struck me—if I were ever to meet Juliana in person, would I even
like
her?

“She thanks them with a paycheck,” Gloria said. “What are you waiting for? Tuck in, the food’s getting cold.”

I glanced over at Thomas, wondering where he stood in all this. Gloria was clearly more than just a secretary to Juliana; she was a protector, a caregiver, a confidante. But what about him? As Juliana’s bodyguard, it stood to reason that he would be considered an employee. But from the way he kept talking about her, I’d started to wonder if Juliana and Thomas were friends. Maybe even more than friends, although Thomas would never tell me if they were. I kept wishing I could figure him out, but whatever training he’d undergone to do this age-inappropriate job, it was damn good.

Gloria drew out her glass tablet and used it to pull up the schedule for the day. “It’s nearly nine o’clock now. Hair and makeup will arrive shortly, so we ought to get you showered. Then at ten you’re going to go visit the king.”

“The king? But I thought he was …”

Gloria nodded. “The king is ill. He was in the hospital for over a month after he was shot, but once his condition was declared stable, the queen moved him here to the Castle. His bedroom is down the hall. Juliana visits him every day. You must do the same. She usually sits with him for about an hour. After that, you have an eleven thirty interview with Eloise Dash from the CBN, and then—”

“Hold up. An interview? With a reporter?” The familiarity of the Castle, and particularly this bedroom—which, of all the places in the visions Juliana had inadvertently sent me from her world, felt the safest and most comfortable—had started to make me feel that I might be able to do what I was brought here to do. But this new wrinkle shook my certainty, and again I was plagued with a fear of failing, and all the consequences that came with it.
Six days,
I told myself, repeating it over and over in my head like a mantra.
Just six days until I can go home.
But the more I told myself that this was all temporary, the less power the words had to console me.

The truth that I’d been trying to keep at bay swept through me like a harsh wind: I had to find my own way out of Aurora. I couldn’t just go along with the General’s plans in the hopes that if I fulfilled his demands I would be returned home. It was possible—even likely—that he wouldn’t keep his word. I needed a plan B, in case six days turned into far more.

“Yes,” Gloria said. “Juliana rarely does interviews, but Libertas may at any time decide to make an announcement regarding the fact that they have her prisoner. We can’t sit around and wait for that to happen; we have to be proactive, to disprove their claims before they’ve even made them.”

Thomas spoke up then. “Libertas has its fair share of supporters in the UCC. They’re a fringe operation, but they’re not unpopular across the board. There’s been a fair amount of unrest in the country, and not just in the Tattered City. If they go public with the information that they’re holding Juliana hostage, not everyone would be sorry to hear it.”

“Are there really people who would think the kidnapping of a sixteen-year-old girl is justified?” I asked. I hadn’t been talking about myself, but I couldn’t help but think about it, once I said the words. Thomas’s jaw tightened, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

“To stop the marriage of Juliana to the prince of Farnham and the joining of our two countries with blood?” Thomas nodded. “Definitely. Not everyone wants us to stop fighting them.”

“Then what do they want?”

He shrugged. “Different things. Some want a fortified wall built along the border, with no passage in and out and armed guard stations every twenty yards. Some want us to take over Farnham—the land once belonged to the UCC, and there are groups that would like nothing more than to see us roll into their capital with our tanks and occupy the whole damn country.”

“And Libertas? What do they want?”

“They want to bring down both monarchies and create a transcontinental republic,” Thomas told me. I remembered the Monad’s speech back in the Tattered City—
the only path to true peace is overthrowing both monarchies and forming one republic, of the people, by the people, and for the people
. I realized now why it sounded so familiar—it was a bastardized version of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. But Lincoln, being so post-LCE, probably never existed in Aurora.

“Curious,” I said softly, not really meaning for anyone else to overhear.

“What?” Thomas pressed.

“Nothing. I think their methods are awful, but I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an American,” Thomas said. “You would think that. But this isn’t—”

“My world. I know. I’ve been informed.”

Gloria looked back and forth between the two of us, confused. “What’s an American?”

“Never mind,” Thomas and I said in unison.

Gloria, who didn’t seem to enjoy having less information that anybody else in the room, said testily, “While I’m sure this has been illuminating for Sasha, I think it might be time for you to leave, Thomas. The team will be here soon, and since you’re not in the habit of attending the princess’s
toilette,
I don’t suggest you start loitering around now.”

“Actually,” I interrupted. “Can you both leave? Just for a couple of minutes,” I added, when Gloria shot me an irritated look, although I don’t know why I was expected to make apologies. After all, I was the one being held in a foreign universe against my will. Still, I was growing to like Gloria’s no-nonsense, domineering way of handling this strange situation—it was comforting to know that someone had some part of this circus under control, insofar as that was even possible—and her bossiness didn’t bother me. Much. But I need a little time alone.

“I suppose,” Gloria said. “We’ll be right outside. Just a few minutes, okay? We’ve got to stick to the schedule.”

I nodded. It wasn’t until the door had slid shut behind them that I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a slow stream. Then I lowered my face into my hands and massaged my temples with my fingers, which were shaking. I forced my mind to go blank and kept breathing in the steady, rhythmic way Gina had taught me when she was going through her yoga phase.
Gina,
I thought suddenly, but I beat it back before thoughts of home could provoke me to panic. If I was going to step into Juliana’s life and convince a whole bunch of people who actually knew her that I
was
her, I had to stop torturing myself with memories of my own past. Otherwise, despair would paralyze me, and I wasn’t about to let that happen, not while there was still a chance of returning to my real life.

Suddenly restless, I got to my feet, picking up my backpack and dropping it on the bed. I’d asked for a few minutes of alone time to wrap my head around what was happening, but I’d also wanted a chance to salvage whatever possessions of mine I could before Thomas and Gloria had them destroyed. If Thomas hadn’t allowed me to keep my prom dress back in the Tattered City, there was no way they were just going to throw my dirty Earth clothes into the royal laundry. I opened the main section of the bag and dug around inside. Deodorant, hairbrush, Gina’s pashmina … those could all go. I made a mental note to replace the pashmina when I got home. Then there was my necklace. I doubted they’d let me wear it, since it belonged to me and not Juliana; I couldn’t let them get rid of it with everything else, but I needed a place to hide it.

I finished my inventory of the bag with the front pocket, which, to my surprise, contained a book.

“Oh,” I said. It was my copy of
Twelfth Night
.

I sat down on the bed with the book in my lap. Thomas had packed this bag; he was the only person who could’ve put it in there. But why would he do such a thing? Was it a joke? A mean, nasty joke, to remind me how foolish I’d been? Maybe it was naïve of me, but I didn’t think Thomas was capable of petty cruelty. The more time I spent with him, the more I was realizing that Thomas considered himself a person of upstanding moral character. I believed him when he said he’d done the right thing by bringing me into this universe; I didn’t
agree
with him, but I didn’t get the sense that he was lying about how he felt. So whatever Thomas’s reason for sending
Twelfth Night
with me through the tandem, I didn’t think it had anything to do with hurting me.

At least, not on purpose. But it did hurt, the memory of how easily I’d fallen for his ruse, and how painful the sense of betrayal had been when I discovered it was all false. The book reminded me of that. I flipped the pages, not looking for anything in particular, but it fell open to my favorite part, Viola’s monologue in act 2, scene 2.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness.

No kidding,
I thought.

Well, I wasn’t going to just let them dispose of my favorite book, either. My eyes rested on the bedside table. It had a little drawer at the top, the perfect size to hide a few of my possessions, and close enough at hand if I needed to retrieve them quickly. I was just about to slide the book and necklace inside when a little object in the far back corner caught my eye. I reached in and pulled out a blue origami star. It seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. I put it back where I found it, along with my own things, just as Gloria walked back through the door.

“I’m sorry, Sasha, but I can’t wait any longer,” she said. “The team will be here any minute, and honestly, you look like you just came in off the street. Juliana would never be caught dead in any of that. You’ve got to wash and change immediately.”

“What are you going to do with my stuff?” I asked. “My clothes and my bag.”

Gloria heaved a sigh. “We’re going to have to burn them, dear. I’m sorry.”

“I figured.” I was glad to have rescued the items I could. Gloria gave me a sympathetic smile. She pointed at the bathroom door with her stylus.

“Shower,” she commanded.

I scrubbed every inch of my body until all traces of the last two days had been washed down the drain. Afterward, I stood in front of Juliana’s enormous antique dresser and looked in the mirror; with my hair wet, and my pink, clean skin, wearing only a luxurious white cotton bathrobe, I looked like a blank slate. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and weariness was setting in, I was starting to feel like a blank slate, too. Maybe that was for the best; maybe that would make all this easier. But it felt wrong.

“Wait here,” Gloria said, disappearing into Juliana’s enormous walk-in closet. Minutes later, she emerged carrying an armful of dresses, each of which she laid carefully on the bed. I glanced down at the dresser, which was empty but for a few framed photographs, a large mahogany jewelry box, and a collection of perfumes in cut glass bottles that rested on a silver plate. I scanned the photographs with interest. It was easy to pick out Juliana in them; all I had to do was look for my own face. But it was the other faces that fascinated me. One picture showed Juliana around age seven with a man and a woman that I gathered were her parents. They didn’t resemble mine in the slightest. The woman, a young and beautiful brunette with delicate features, had her arms wrapped around Juliana, who was beaming at the camera; the man, much older than the woman, wore a smile on his handsome, aristocratic face, but stood at a slight remove from his wife and daughter and didn’t touch them.

“I’m thinking this one for now,” Gloria said, indicating a one-shouldered blood orange chiffon dress with a wide black buckle and a pleated skirt. “This one for the interview.” She placed a black leather pencil skirt and a sleeveless white silk blouse beside the orange dress. I squinted at them dubiously. “On those rare occasions when Juliana does give interviews, she tends to dress a little more …”

“Rocker chick?” I suggested.

Gloria pursed her lips. “ ‘Mature’ is the word I was looking for. And I think this one would be more than adequate for tonight’s banquet. What do you think?”

The third outfit was also sleeveless, a red taffeta minidress with a huge ruffle on one side from shoulder to hem. “For a banquet?” I asked. I didn’t know what that entailed, but if I had to guess I would say that it should’ve involved a gown of some sort.