I’M DREAMING AGAIN. I’M SURE OF IT BECAUSE METIAS is here, and I know he’s supposed to be dead. This time I’m ready for it, and I keep a tight rein on my emotions.
Metias and I are walking in the streets of Pierra. All around us, Republic soldiers run around rubble and explosions, but to the two of us, everything seems quiet and slow, like we’re watching a movie in extreme slow motion. Showers of dirt and shrapnel from grenades bounce harmlessly off of us. I feel invincible, or invisible. One or the other, maybe both.
“Something’s just not right here,” I say to my brother. My eyes go up to the roofs, then back down to the chaotic streets. Where is Anden?
Metias gives me a thoughtful frown. He walks with his hands behind his back, graceful as any captain ought to be, and the gold tassels on his uniform clink softly together as he goes. “I can tell this scene is bothering you,” he replies, scratching at the faint scruff on his chin. Unlike Thomas, he’d always been a bit lax about the military’s grooming rules. “Talk to me.”
“This scene,” I say, pointing around us. “This whole plan. Something’s off.”
Metias steps over a pile of concrete rubble. “What’s off?”
“Him.” I point up to the roof. For some reason, Razor is standing there in plain sight, watching everything happen. His arms are crossed. “Something’s not right about him.”
“Well, Junebug, reason it out,” Metias says.
I count off on my fingers. “When I got into the jeep behind the Elector’s, the drivers’ instructions were clear. The Elector told them to take me to the hospital.”
“And then?”
“And then Razor ordered the drivers to take the assassination route anyway. He completely ignored the Elector’s command. He must’ve told Anden that I insisted on the assassination route. It’s the only way Anden would’ve gone with it.”
Metias shrugs. “What does it mean? That Razor simply wanted to force the assassination through?”
“No. If the assassination happened, everyone would know who ignored the Elector’s order. Everyone would know that Razor was the one who ordered the jeeps forward.” I grab Metias’s arm. “The Republic would know that Razor tried to kill Anden.”
Metias tightens his lips. “Why would Razor put himself in such obvious danger? What else was strange?”
I turn back to the street’s slow-moving chaos. “Well, right from the beginning, he was able to bring Patriots into his Vegas officer quarters so easily. He got his Patriots on and off that airship as if it were nothing. It’s like he has superhuman abilities to hide out.”
“Maybe he does,” Metias says. “After all, he has the Colonies sponsoring him, doesn’t he?”
“That’s true.” I run a hand through my hair in frustration. In this dream state, my fingers are numb and I can’t feel the strands running against my skin. “It doesn’t make sense. They should have called off the assassination. Razor shouldn’t have gone through with it at all, not after I disrupted it. They would’ve gone back to their quarters, thought things through again, and then attempted another strike. Maybe in a month or two. Why would Razor put his position at risk if the assassination was in danger of failing?”
Metias watches as a Republic soldier runs past us. The soldier tilts his head up at Razor standing on the roof and salutes.
“If the Colonies are behind the Patriots,” my brother says, “and they know who Day is, shouldn’t you both have been taken straight to talk with whomever is in charge?”
I shrug. I think back on the time I spent with Anden. His radical new laws, his new way of thinking. Then I remember his tension with Congress and the Senators.
And that’s when the dream breaks apart. My eyes snap open. I’ve figured out why Razor bothers me so much.
The Colonies aren’t sponsoring Razor—in fact, the Colonies have no idea what the Patriots are up to. That’s why Razor went ahead with the plan—of course he had no fear of the Republic finding out that he worked for the Patriots.
The Republic had hired Razor to assassinate Anden.