“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.