Across a Star-Swept Sea

Thirty-three

JUSTEN WAS NEVER, EVER, ever taking genetemps again. This was worse than three days sitting in the sun and drinking nothing but kiwine. He felt split at the seams somehow, as if the code breakdown had left his body in the wrong position and slightly out of place. How anyone found this fun was beyond his reckoning. How Persis could tolerate it regularly was inconceivable.

Slowly, the universe came back to him, and he blinked and groaned.

“Oh!” cried a voice that sounded something like his sister’s. “He’s waking up.”

His eyes began to focus, but the second he tried to move, he was overcome by waves of nausea. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to swallow, but his tongue was dry and coated with some sort of powder. He spat into the grass, a pale mark against the dark ground.

Grass. Ground. He was outside? The last thing he remembered was entering the royal lab in Halahou. He blinked again and attempted sitting. This time, it worked.

He was, in fact, on the ground. The sky was lightening all around, the soft silver blue you saw right before dawn. In front of him stood Vania and Remy along with a few guards, and . . . to his right knelt Persis Blake, tied hand and foot with nanoropes. She was wearing a dark, voluminous robe, and her yellow and white hair was tangled all over her face and neck, but her keen, amber eyes were as bright as ever. She stared at him, her expression pointed, as if there were a million or two things she’d like to say.

He knew the feeling.

“Justen!” Remy threw herself to the ground next to him and hugged him. “You’re all right. I was so scared when I saw you in the lab—I thought maybe she’d hurt you.”

“What?” he croaked. “Vania?”

“Yes?” Vania answered sweetly.

“Vania’s the only one who’d hurt me—”

“See what I mean?” Vania rolled her eyes. “Totally brainwashed. I mean, look at him, Remy. Would the Justen you know ever willingly take genetemps?”

Remy shook her head vehemently.

Justen closed his eyes in despair. “Remy, I know it looks odd, but I—”

“Enough of your lies!” Vania snapped. “I think we’re both a little sick of hearing them at this point.” From his place on the ground, Justen could see Vania’s oblet ping in her pocket. “Oh, now what?” she said, annoyed, and pulled it out.

“You took genetemps for me?” Persis whispered at him, her voice filled with awe. “You?”

“Yes,” he grumbled in reply. “And look at the good it did us, Poppy.”

“Still,” she said as she shrugged her bound arms, “I’m impressed. It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Tied up and still making flirty jokes. Apparently the Wild Poppy was not entirely different from the Persis Blake he knew.

“If we get out of this alive,” he said, “we’re going to have a long conversation.”

“Oh, yes. I look forward to hearing all about your first genetemping trip.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Persis turned his way, all amusement vanished from her features. Her gaze was dark and piercing, and her words were even more so. “Neither do I, Justen. And let’s not assume that, even when we do get out of this alive, either of us will retain the power of speech.”

Justen felt woozy again as his brain sought to reconcile the girl he knew with the spy tied up beside him. Was this what had been lurking beneath Persis’s spoiled aristo persona all along?

He had no idea where he was anymore. Not Halahou. On a lawn outside some nondescript military installation somewhere. He could hear the sound of waves. They seemed to be coming from beyond the bluff that stood about twenty meters in front of them.

He looked at Vania reading her message on her oblet. Though he couldn’t make it out from this angle, whatever the display said made her face contort with rage.

“Listen, Remy—” he began, but Vania began to shout at her oblet.

“I don’t think so,” she snapped. “Not after everything I’ve been through.”

At his side, Persis craned her neck to see, but Justen doubted she got anything.

“All right, enough!” Vania cried. “I caught the Wild Poppy. I did it all by myself. And I don’t care what General Gawnt or even my father has to say about it.” She held her hand out toward the other two guards. “Pinks, please.”

Everything grew cold. “Vania, no—” Justen began.

“Shut up!” she screamed without moving. “You, Justen Helo, are in no position to say anything right now. You’ll be lucky if you get out of this without being Reduced yourself, at this rate.”

“But he’s right, Citizen Aldred,” said Persis in a voice Justen wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. Or maybe he had. This was her voice in the baths at the sanitarium, her voice in the safe darkness of the star cove, her voice the night she tried to talk her mother out of madness. This was the real Persis Blake. The Wild Poppy. “You’re making a terrible mistake. That ping you just got—from one of your superiors, I’m guessing. And I bet I can guess what it says, too. My princess has made a bargain with your father. We are to be released unharmed.”

“Too late!” Vania shook her hand, though the guards seemed to hesitate. “It’s too late. Message didn’t get here in time. Oh well.” She turned toward the guards. “Pinks! Now!” she roared.

Remy flinched, as did Vania’s underlings. “Vania,” said Remy, standing and backing up until she stood right near the guards, “let’s not start a war. You’ll still win. Now that she’s been revealed, the Wild Poppy will never be able to come back to Galatea.”

“Oh, I still win,” Vania insisted. “I always win. But I will see the Wild Poppy Reduced anyway. I will watch her grovel in the muck before she goes back home. I promise you.”

“Vania,” said Justen, rising on unsteady feet. “Stop.”

“No, you stop!” She pulled her gun out of her holster and pointed it at him. “Take another step and I’ll hit you with more than a toxin pricker. You’re just digging yourself in deeper.” She glanced behind her. “And you, too, Remy. And,” she said, raising her voice, “any soldier under my command who does not follow my direct orders. Now, a pink, please.”

Remy sighed and turned toward a guard, who offered up his tin of pills. With a grim face, Remy took it then handed it off to Vania. “I still think you’re making a mistake,” she said. “We’re going to get into trouble, and it’s not like it’ll even last long.”

“No, Remy—” Justen cried. She didn’t know about the effect the pills had on regs. “No, Vania. Don’t. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

Persis wasn’t an aristo. Not totally. Her brain might work like a reg’s. Like her mother’s. Just as she could develop DAR, she could be permanently damaged by the Reduction drug.

She could lose her beautiful, extraordinary mind. Forever.

Vania stalked over to Persis, eyes on the prize, shaking a handful of pills into her hand as she went. “Oh yes I do, Justen. I saw your research. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

And with that, she grabbed Persis’s face and crammed the pills down her throat.

PERSIS SLAMMED TO THE ground and was still. Nothing moved in the gray dawn light—not the breeze, not the birds—even the waves seemed to go silent. Or maybe that was just the blood roaring in Justen’s ears.

Persis. No, no, no.

Heedless of Vania and her gun, Justen rushed to Persis’s side. He started to roll her over, then stopped as she began to twitch uncontrollably, shaking and shuddering as foam seeped from her mouth. He held her gently on her side so she didn’t choke, tightened his arms around her until she grew quiet again.

No, not Persis. Not Persis.

Vania sighed, rolling her shoulders with relief. “There, that’s done.”

Remy stood silent, watching them. Tears rolled out of her eyes and over her cheeks, ignored. The guards behind her waited.

Justen wanted to attack Vania, to beat her senseless, but what was the point? She’d only prick him with one of her toxin stingers or shoot him or even Reduce him. And wasn’t that what he deserved?

“You just started a war, Vania,” he said instead. “Princess Isla will not stand for what you’ve done to her friend.”

Vania snorted. “The princess doesn’t scare me. She can’t get anything done in her country—what makes you think she’s going to be able to get something done in ours?”

“You were ordered to release her,” Justen set Persis gently on the ground and stood, pointing an accusing finger at his former friend. “And you dosed her anyway. We’re all witnesses. What do you plan to do to silence us?”

But she just shrugged. “I really don’t care if anyone finds out when I dosed her or how or why. Talk all you want. True Galateans will be on my side. The Wild Poppy deserves what she gets, same as the queen did.” She peered past Justen. “Ooh, look, she’s waking up.”

Justen turned and indeed, Persis had sat up. Her nanoropes lay slack now, and she wiped foam from her face with the back of her hand then stared at it, curiously. She licked it, then made a face and wiped the rest off on her dress.

“Aww,” Vania said, “isn’t it cute when they try to eat everything?”

Justen’s stomach roiled. Persis’s eyes were wide and blank as a baby’s, and her gait was just as unsteady as she pushed herself to her feet and looked at him, her head cocked. He stared at her, barely able to breathe. What was this feeling? It was not sadness, was not even horror. He felt numb—the flare of anger at Vania vanishing to be replaced by a dull roar of nothing.

Nothing. That’s what shone from Persis’s gaze as she looked curiously from one person to the next. Was there anything at all left of her in there? How many doses did it take to do total damage? He knew he’d had it written down somewhere in his notes, but he couldn’t remember it. Couldn’t remember anything in that moment except the look in her bright eyes the moment before she’d first kissed him.

Vania bounced on her feet. “Oh, I wish I could keep her. She’d make such a great handmaiden, don’t you think? Can you imagine me being dressed and groomed and followed around by the great Wild Poppy?” She clapped her hands and Persis gave a little start, then turned toward Vania. “Come here, you. Come on, it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you . . .” Vania shook the tin of pills. “Don’t you want more?”

Persis shuffled over, her expression one of stupid trust.

“Stop it, Vania,” Justen said, catching Persis by the hand. It lay limp in his own, but she kept tugging toward Vania. “You’ve made your point.”

“Not yet, I haven’t.” Vania beckoned Persis again.

Persis grunted and pulled free of his grip, continuing on toward Vania.

“You know,” she said, when Persis reached her, “I think we’ve been doing it all wrong with these morons, keeping them as prisoners. We should retrain them to be pets.” She smiled broadly. “All the cachet of a gengineered animal but potty trained, too.” She leaned in. “You are potty trained, right, Lady Blake?”

Persis looked at her blankly.

Vania chuckled. “Let’s see if she does any tricks.”

Justen heard a soft moan at his left. Andrine, it seemed, was waking up. He silently willed her to stay down. If Vania saw that the other girl was awake, she’d no doubt want to dose her, too.

But Vania was no longer paying attention to anyone but Persis. “Let’s see,” she was saying. “We’ve seen her sit up and come. We could have her fetch, maybe, or roll over?”

Justen stole a glance at Andrine, whose eyes were wide open, though she hadn’t moved. She looked at him, a question in her eyes, and he gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. What could Andrine do to help all tied up?

He turned to Remy, who was standing stock-still, an expression of horror painted across her features as she stared at Persis. “It’ll be all right, Remy,” he said. He lied.

“No,” she whispered, her voice shuddering. “I don’t think it will. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

He reached his hand out to her, keeping his voice soft and even. “You didn’t know. You haven’t seen what Reduction is really like.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye then laughed mirthlessly. “You really do think I’m a child, don’t you?” she said. “Well, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Vania was happily skipping in circles now, as the hapless Persis stumbled behind her. “Oh, I know!” Vania cried. “I’ll make her beg.” She held the tin of pills up in the air. “Come on, Persey-worsey. Beg. Beg!”

Persis stopped and lifted her face up to the tin. The pills inside made a pleasant clatter as Vania shook it. Persis lifted on her tiptoes, reaching out.

“Very good,” Vania exclaimed. “Persey-worsey likes her pills, doesn’t she? They’re good.”

Persis nodded. Justen could barely watch.

“Want another?” Vania fiddled with the tin.

Justen couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward and grabbed Vania by the wrist. “That’s enough.”

She whirled to face him with a dangerous glare. “I think I’d watch it, if I were you,” she said, shaking him off. “I have a whole bracelet full of prickers, you know.” He stumbled backward as Vania resumed her triumphant grin.

A moment later, she went down as Persis slammed a rock against the side of her head.

“Help!” Vania screamed as Persis leaped on top of her and began pummeling her with her fists. She appeared to be standing on Vania’s arms, keeping her from using her prickers.

Justen stood, baffled. He’d never seen a Reduced attack.

“Hey, brother,” Remy called. “Lend me a hand?”

He looked right to see Remy standing, a gun drawn on the two guards. He blinked. Remy, standing with a gun drawn on two guards.

“Justen!” she said, annoyed, and cocked her head at Andrine. “Go untie her already. Persis can’t hold off Vania unarmed forever.”

And Reduced.

And Reduced, right?

Andrine was already sitting up. Shaking free of his shock, Justen hurried to do as his little sister said.

“Are you all right?” he asked Andrine as he started overwriting the code keeping her ropes tight.

“Better every minute,” she replied tersely.

As he worked, he glanced up at Persis and Vania, who were still locked together. Somehow, Persis had ripped off Vania’s pricker bracelet, and Justen had no idea where the gun had gone.

This was no Reduction he’d ever seen. How was it possible?

Andrine’s ropes came loose and she jumped up and started to sprint for Persis and Vania. Remy smiled, which was when one of the guards went for her, while the other ran toward the building for reinforcements.

“I’ll get him. Help your sister!” Andrine shouted, and changed course to chase the runaway guard.

Justen rushed over to where Remy and the guard were wrestling for the gun, doing his best to stay out the line of fire. He grabbed the guard by his hair and yanked him off his little sister’s body, and then, almost before he knew what he was doing, rammed his fist straight into the man’s nose. The guard went down, flat.

Remy sat up and stared at him with her mouth open. “Justen! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Then she very smoothly reached out and wound a nanorope around the guard’s wrist and ankles and pulled it taut.

“Some other time,” he said to her, eyes wide, “we’re going to talk about what kind of secrets you’ve been keeping yourself.”

She shrugged, then said, “Yeah. We should probably do that.”

Justen took a deep breath. “Let’s go help Persis. A Reduced is no match for Vania.”

Remy laughed. “Justen, she’s not Reduced.”

“What?” Justen turned back to the fight, mouth agape.

Persis and Vania were still locked in a death grip. Somehow, Persis had tangled her long cloak around Vania’s legs, preventing her from kicking out. Their hair was flying everywhere, and as they whirled, black and white and yellow strands whipping in the morning wind, Justen could just make out a flash of red blood. He thought it was coming from Vania, but he couldn’t be sure. They were still grappling with each other, stumbling in a wide arc halfway across the lawn.

Justen and Remy started running toward them as Vania reached up and grabbed Persis by her hair, yanking back as hard as she could. The taller girl lost her balance and went careening backward, pulling Vania with her, all limbs and cloaks and hair against the dawn sky.

Then they plummeted off the side of the bluff and out of sight.