THE SCREAM BARELY ESCAPES MY lips before a pair of metal ropes shoots out from one of the security bots. They wrap around my wrists, forcing my hands together. The access card falls from my grasp.
“Lidar’ati!” Dámiul rushes forward, but the second security bot launches a metal arm at him and knocks him back. His head slams against the wall, and he crumples to the ground.
“Dámiul!” I cry.
The bot shoots metal ropes at him and binds his hands. It yanks him up, forcing him to stand.
Paralyzing fear rushes through me, and I gasp for air. How did they find us? It hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet, has it?
“Ona tunka en.” A low, menacing voice comes from the corridor.
An Adryil man in a stiff gray jacket steps into view between the two bots; his differently colored uniform must mean he outranks most guards. I recognize him immediately as the white-haired man who tortured Dámiul in the recording.
The man’s gold eyes fall on me. “I knew Jaerin was reckless, but I never thought he’d resort to using an Earthling.” From the way he spits the word “Earthling,” he might as well have called me garbage. His lip curls. “Even Fyrin Verik can’t save him now.”
A realization dawns on me. “Are you the officer Jaerin bribed?”
The man lifts his chin with disdain. “Well, it looks like the Earthling isn’t completely stupid.” He leans toward me with a smug expression. “I saw how desperate Jaerin was and decided I might as well reap the profits. He was so eager, he trusted me even though I never told him my name or even showed him what I looked like. I knew it was only a matter of time before I caught him as well.”
Dámiul glowers at the man. “Your dispute is with me, Martoke. Let Iris go.”
Martoke sneers. “She’s an Earthling who violated Adryil laws. There is only one solution for such noncompliance.”
From the menace in his voice, I can tell he’s only speaking English to stir my fear. My face and fingers turn to ice, and my stomach twists. I try to harden my expression and look brave, but even my lip is trembling.
I glance at Dámiul. If rage could kill, Martoke would be reduced to a pile of ashes by the heat of Dámiul’s gaze.
Martoke holds up his wrist and presses something on the black device strapped to it. The rope between the security bot and me stiffens. It wheels forward, and I nearly fall as it forces me back.
“Lidar’ati!” Dámiul shouts, more venomously this time. He, too, is forced back by the security bot holding him.
Martoke glances up with a malicious smile, then strides away. The door slams shut, leaving me alone with Dámiul and the machines.
The pressure on my wrists is too much to resist. I nearly trip as the bot pushes me back into a corner. It shoves me against the wall, knocking the breath out of my chest.
The other bot yanks Dámiul toward the table. It pulls down, and he collapses into the chair. It drags his hands onto the table. A set of restraints rises from the metal surface and wraps around his wrists.
Dámiul keeps his expression firm, defiant as in the recording Jaerin showed me. In fact, everything I’m seeing is as it was in that recording. The room. The table. The restraints. What have I done? Because of me, he’ll go through that torment again.
He glances at me. “I won’t let them hurt you, Iris.”
I nod, even though there’s no way he can keep his promise. I can’t let him see the despair creeping into my thoughts, and I chastise myself for being so terrified. I knew this could happen, and I volunteered to take the risk. I meet Dámiul’s gaze and try to smile to tell him I’m okay.
The anger in his eyes fades, transforming into something my feeble command of words can’t describe. A look of admiration. An unspoken respect, telling me he understands the chance I took for him, and he wants nothing more than to prove that it was worthwhile. And something else—something that tells me that in this moment, I’m all that matters to him.
I recognize that look as one I’ve seen between others—the way Milo used to look at Sabina, the way Kiki looked at Brent. I always dreamed of finding someone who would inspire that look to cross my face, but never imagined I’d be worthy of receiving it.
“How much do you remember?” I ask.
Dámiul breaks his gaze. “I remember you. I remember trying to speak to you, and accidentally frightening you because you thought I was a hallucination. I remember frightening you again when you realized I could read your mind, then wanting to trade anything for the chance to fix things.” He stares at the table. “I remember telling you we both wished for the impossible.”
I release a breath. Jaerin and Atikéa worried that it would take days, even weeks, to bring him back, but it seems just a few minutes were enough to return the Dámiul I know. His mind must be stronger than they imagined.
Dámiul closes his eyes. “The barriers they erected are crumbling. Your performance at the Spectacle, teaching you to block your mind, showing you images of Adrye… I remember everything since running into you. And I can feel more memories returning.” He opens his eyes, and his expression darkens. “I remember Martoke trying to wipe my mind. I fought him, but I must not have been strong enough.”
“You were fighting him the whole time I knew you.” The questions hammering on my mind demand to be asked. Even if the answers will be stolen from me as soon as Martoke returns, I need to know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t your burden. Also, when I was with you, I could forget where I really was.” Dámiul’s voice grows soft. “You’re the reason I was able to hold on for so long. Knowing you were out there, waiting for me, made me fight harder, no matter what Martoke did to me.”
A warm blush creeps into my cheeks. I wish I knew how to respond, but my capacity for words fails me. Meanwhile, the questions pound relentlessly against my head. “If you came to spread the truth about Papilio, why didn’t you?”
Dámiul hesitates. After a pause, he says, “I take it someone told you about TalentCorp?”
“Yes.” My wrists ache from the security bot’s grip, but I ignore them.
“I meant to tell you.” Dámiul looks at me apologetically. “It wasn’t part of my original plan, but when I realized how close your school was to Charlotte, I couldn’t leave without trying. When I ran into you, you were just a Papilian. I meant to use you as my proxy and have you spread the word for me.” He drops his gaze. “Then, I found you were so much more than I expected. I tried to make myself tell you the truth about the Papilio School, but each time, I realized doing so would only bring you danger.”
“I would have taken the risk.”
Dámiul meets my gaze. “I must have contemplated what to do a thousand times. Do I warn you not to sign the contract, as I first intended? Or do I spare you the immediate danger and let you wander into their trap? Either way, I couldn’t save you.” A pained look fills his eyes. “I realized that warning you would do you no good. TalentCorp has ways of guaranteeing that you forfeit your rights. If you refused your contract, they would have assigned you to a job that nevertheless required you to sign away your freedom, then manipulated you into agreeing to come to Adrye to serve your patrons.”
“And if I accepted the contract but knew what would happen, the liaison would have found out while brainwashing me in transit and made me forget anyway.” I lean my head back against the wall. “There was no way out for me.”
“Exactly. Also, if you’d agreed to tell the other Papilians about TalentCorp, the people watching you would have realized you were the source of the trouble. They would have taken your mind and those of everyone you’d told. They would have wiped you out if they had to—every student, every staff member, every resident of Dogwood.”
I try to wrap my head around how expansive TalentCorp’s reach is. If Dámiul had told me the truth, and I’d told Milo, then Brent or Estelle or anyone else who would have listened… TalentCorp would have destroyed us all. Everyone I knew—gone. Transformed into mindless shells. “But… What about the treaties?”
“TalentCorp would have found a loophole that permitted their actions. Or else paid a fine and called it justice. They’d rather lose some money and one branch of their operation than endanger their entire business.” Dámiul looks away. “At first, I told myself it would all be worth it if I could incite some kind of uprising that would force TalentCorp and everyone else to recognize that the deception is wrong. When I broke into Papilio, I only cared about my cause. But after knowing you, I realized… I care about you too. So I chose to sacrifice my mission rather than risk your life—or those of your peers.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” Though the thought of TalentCorp mind-wiping everyone at Papilio horrifies me, I wonder how different the world might be for all the other Artists if we had revolted. “The Abolitionists’ cause is more important than any of us.”
Dámiul’s eyes turn stormy. “That’s how Martoke and the other so-called teachers here want people to think. But the moment we stop caring about individuals in the name of the group, we start losing the element that separates us from animals.” Glancing at me, he softens his expression. “That’s something I learned from the literature of your kind, and it’s something I choose to believe in. If I’d used you to make a statement… I would have been no better than my father.”
He said if he could free even one of the wrongfully enslaved, then his life would have been worth living. Recalling Jaerin’s words and listening to Dámiul now, the intentions behind Dámiul’s actions finally make sense. I’m not sure if I agree with him, but I understand. “That’s why you chose Ximena over the Abolition.”
“Ximena?” He furrows his brow, and I can almost see him hacking through the barriers in his mind. After a few seconds, he lifts the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Ximena. Freeing her proved that TalentCorp is not all-powerful. They’ll never find her. I made sure of that.” His expression falls. “Yet I couldn’t free you. And now, you’re here because of me.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry I brought all this upon you.”
“I’m not. I’m glad I met you, no matter what happens next.” If it weren’t for the bot restraining me, I would take his hands to let him know I mean every word.
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew who I really am.”
“You mean that you’re the son of the man who runs TalentCorp? Or that you’re a repeat offender in the Adryil courts?” My hands are starting to go numb, but I manage to smile anyway. “The Abolitionists told me all about your past. I don’t care about any of that.”
Dámiul raises his eyes to meet mine. “I couldn’t tell you about my family because it would have meant revealing Papilio’s true nature, and… I thought you’d turn away from me if you knew I was a criminal. But other than that, I was always honest with you.” He gives me a sad smile. “I guess, if I were you, I’d say that doesn’t leave much.”
“No, it’s enough.” A tension I didn’t know was still holding me releases my senses. Yes, I know him. I knew who he was in those moments at Papilio, and I know who he is now.
I gaze at him, letting my heart take in all it wants to. I choose to ignore the doubts and believe in the boy I see. A rebel who refused to stand by while injustices were committed. A fighter willing to lose his very self in hopes of achieving one more victory. A compassionate heart who threw all that away for one person: me.
I never imagined I’d be worth so much to anyone—enough to turn someone’s world around, the way Dámiul says I turned his. In him, I found something rare and beautiful, and I’m glad I fought to save him, even if my efforts were ultimately in vain.
He’s worth the price I’m going to pay.
“Dámiul—”
I break off as the door slides open.