I NEVER THOUGHT I’D FIND myself wondering again where Dámiul disappeared to. But hours have passed since I spotted him leaving the hideout, and I haven’t seen him since. I can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding me.
Maybe he senses there’s something amiss with me. Maybe I misread all the signs, and he doesn’t love me after all. Maybe he looked in my head and saw how I feel, and he doesn’t know how to let me down. But he swore he wouldn’t use his powers on me—he wouldn’t break his promise, would he? Especially since Yandria told him not to use his telepathy.
Maybe! Maybe! Maybe! Now I know why so many love songs are terribly depressing. It’s the worst feeling in the world, all this not knowing.
“Hey, are you okay?” Milo peers at me with concern—when did he get here?
I shrug. “Of course. Why?”
“You’ve been gone a long time for a language tablet.”
I realize that I’ve spent the past several minutes staring blankly at the hideout’s door, wondering where Dámiul went. I turn my attention to Milo, annoyed at myself. He and Cara were talking about how they’re going to change the world for the Ka’risil in their quarters, and here I am, pining over a boy.
“Sorry.” I walk quickly back to the room, clutching the language tablet I’d left it for. “Just got lost in thought.”
“Oh?” Milo gives me a questioning look.
I can’t tell him where my mind was, but I don’t want to lie to him either. So I keep my mouth shut and reenter the room, where Cara greets me with a cocked eyebrow.
“What happened to you?” she asks. “Did you have to dig that thing out of the ground or something?”
I hand her the tablet. “Just got distracted.”
Milo’s face still carries questions, but he doesn’t ask them. His jaw tightens, and I can tell he’s not happy with me. I wish I didn’t have to keep things from him, but my love is one thing I can’t talk to him about—not before I’ve told Dámiul.
Cara glances at him, then back at me. She makes a derisive noise. “While you were distracted, Ballerina Boy realized that the Papilian Spectacle is today.”
Milo shoots her a cross look. “Don’t call me that.”
She twists her mouth into a disdainful smirk. “Can’t take a joke?”
“Cara, please,” I say, before Milo can unleash a rude retort and escalate this into the third shouting match tonight. I’ve become accustomed to Cara’s attitude, but I swear, she’s been worse tonight than she ever was previously. Something about Milo’s presence seems to bother her to no end. “Do you have to snipe at him all the time?”
Cara narrows her eyes. “Well, we can’t all be sweet little butterflies.” She turns to the screen on the table and swipes something on it. “Anyway, as I was saying before Master Sensitive interrupted, the time difference between here and Papilio means the Spectacle’s actually happening right now. Want to see what you look like to the Adryil?”
Intrigued, I nod. Cara presses something on the touchscreen. She doesn’t seem to notice Milo staring daggers at her.
A holovid featuring a stage appears in the center of the round table. I regard it with fascination.
Cara gestures at it. “This is what your Spectacle looks like from here. Most people in Nathril won’t watch it until tomorrow, when it’s not the middle of the night, so you guys are getting an advance peek.”
In the holovid, the stage’s gold curtain goes up. Holographic trees and flowers decorate the stage in a forest scene. A lone ballerina in an elegant white costume stands in the center of the stage with her back to the audience and her arms posed gracefully above her golden head. Above the upper left corner of the stage, a portrait of Sabina appears. “Sabina Laclair, Ballet Dancer” is spelled out underneath in bright blue Adryil symbols, along with two numbers: her Linx ranking and her starting price. The sight makes me recoil.
The music starts, and I recognize the fervent violin solo as Brent’s playing. There was always something about the way he lifts his notes that made him stand out from the others. I’d almost forgotten about him. And to think, I once swooned in his presence, like all the other girls in the Orchestra. My life then seems so far from the one I know now, it might have happened to someone else.
Brent’s image appears beside Sabina’s, along with his name, ranking, and price. In his picture, he poses with his instrument, and it occurs to me that it’s the same one that will show up on the Wall when someone buys him. All those portraits I used to gaze at—they weren’t to honor the alumni. They were to display a product for sale. The thought infuriates me. We’re people, not items. I’ll do whatever I must to make everyone see that.
Sabina glides across the stage, as graceful as ever. Brent’s violin notes speed into broken chords, and she performs a set of spins, whipping one long, elegant leg out and drawing it back in perfect time with the music.
“Nice fouettés, Sabina.” Milo sounds impressed.
Loud applause rises over the music. A movement above the stage catches my eye: Sabina’s price turning green. It goes up by a hundred.
Milo furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”
“Someone bid on her.” Cara tilts her head. “People usually don’t live bid during a performance because it distracts from the show. I guess someone in the audience decided they must have her, like Mistress Ydaya did with Iris.”
A line of ballerinas leaps onto the stage. Six portraits—one for each of them—appear. Their starting prices are each about one tenth of Sabina’s, which goes up again as someone else bids.
“So… she’s going to sign that contract?” Milo says. “They’re going to make her forget everyone who matters to her?”
“Of course.” Cara gives him a look that says he should have known better than to ask. “The auction will stay open for a few days in case anyone who didn’t watch the Spectacle live wants to catch up on the bidding.”
A distressed look descends on his face, and he covers his mouth with his fist.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Milo lowers his hand. “It’s just that… she was hoping to get married before she left. When I was with her, she gave us a real shot, but we just didn’t work. She seemed pretty smitten by this one Troupe dancer—Aiden something-or-other. I guess if they ever meet again, they’ll be strangers. I wish there were a way they could stay together.”
Cara raises her eyebrow. “You’re rooting for your ex and some other guy?”
“I care about her, okay?” Milo glares at Cara. “Do you have to be such a bitch?”
The harshness of his words startles me. Equally surprising is the hurt look that crosses Cara’s face. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and she scowls. “Do me a favor and keep your drama to yourself. I don’t care about your or anyone else’s past. It’s the future that matters.” She turns her gaze to the performance.
Milo’s eyes take on an apologetic expression. “Hey, Cara, I didn’t mean—”
“Save it.” Her countenance remains frosty.
For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something more. But then he shakes his head and turns back to the holovid.
On the stage, Nikolai enters, accompanied by a soaring flute solo. Two portraits appear: his and Kiki’s.
A hot fury rises from the pit of my stomach. These are my people being auctioned off. Maybe I didn’t know them well enough to call them friends, but still, I understand their dreams. Those were once my dreams too. And it’s all a lie, designed to wring the most out of us.
Cara glances at her watch and frowns. “Milo, we have to go. Sun’ll be up soon, and if we don’t get back before daybreak… things could get bad.”
Milo continues staring at the scene on the holovid. “This is so wrong.”
“I know.” Cara’s voice is unexpectedly gentle. “We’ll stop it.” She holds up the language tablet. “Starting with communication. One Ka’risil at a time.”
Milo nods, then turns to me. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”
I give him a smile. “I’ll be here. Or who knows, maybe Atikéa’s plan to get me back to the Ydayas will work.”
He brightens. “I hope so.”
Cara smacks his arm. “No time for gooey goodbyes. Let’s go!”
Milo lets out an exasperated sigh and leaves the room with her. Even though I know it’ll be a dangerous journey back to the Ydayas’ building, I’m not worried about him. If anyone can look out for him, it’s Cara. As long as they don’t kill each other.
“Iris!” Atikéa calls me from the doorway.
“Yes?” I approach her.
She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you’ve been stuck here for so long. But I might have found a way to transport you back to Earth. My original plan was, of course, to get you back to the Ydayas’ as soon as I can. Not only because your life would be better there than down here, but also because I’m forming a new plan, and I need as many active Ka’risil as are willing. But if it’s freedom you desire, I have a contact in the United States who can help you start a new life as an ordinary citizen. It will be a challenge, but if you want to go, I can figure something out.”
“No, thank you.” I don’t even have to think about the answer. “Everyone I care about is here. I’d rather live underground than among strangers.”
Atikéa smiles. “I’m glad. We could use a brave one like you. And I know Dámiul will be happy you’re staying.”
“Atikéa!” Tadrien approaches from the hideout’s door, and Atikéa turns her attention to him.
Turmoil churns through my head. What did Atikéa mean when she said Dámiul would be happy I’m staying? Did he say something about me?
A lush orchestral melody sweeps toward me, and I turn back to the still-playing holovid of the Spectacle. Despite my consternation at seeing the people I knew put up for auction, I soon find myself drawn into Sabina and Nikolai’s performance. He stretches his arms toward her, and she spins into his embrace. The two lock gazes, then dance with their hands in each others’. I suddenly feel like I’m back at Papilio, watching them rehearse from the empty orchestra pit. My entire world has changed, but I’m still the same hopeless idiot, caught up in a beautiful fantasy. There’s so much romance here, and I want nothing more than to be a part of something like the ideal portrayed on stage.
Dámiul, could that be us? So much longing fills my heart, I can’t even watch the dancers anymore without feeling a sharp pang. I press the icon to shut down the holoprojector.
I need to find him. Even if he turns away from me, at least I’ll know I gave us a chance. I won’t sleep tonight anyway until I let my heart tell its truth, so I leave the room and walk toward the hideout’s exit.