“Think about it,” he said with a little wave as the door slid open. “I’ll be waiting. Tell you one thing, though. You’ll never see my brother again. So I wouldn’t let that affect my decision if I were you.”
With that, he was gone.
She sat up blinking in the sudden glare of the lights. She’d been asleep for hours, that same tormented sleep she’d been experiencing since her father was shot. She shielded her eyes and searched for a face on the dark figure that had entered her room.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
“It’s me.” The Shepherd. She should’ve known. He was the only one who visited her now, except the Farnham country matron. She put her hands up to her hair, which was blond now. She’d looked in the mirror once the matron was finished with her and been astounded by how stark the transformation was. The color brought out completely different features in her face, and she understood why they’d done it. With her hair this color, she was nearly unrecognizable. “Quick, get up and get dressed. We leave at dawn.”
“Leave for where?” she asked.
“Columbia City.”
“What? No!” Why would they bring her back there? They were supposed to give her a new life. She supposed that would mean she’d have to hide out in Farnham forever, a prospect she didn’t relish, but it was far preferable to being dragged back home. “You promised—”
“Don’t worry, we’re not handing you over to the KES, if that’s what you’re imagining.” The Shepherd took his customary seat on the desk chair, turning it around so that his arms rested on the chair back. “We have a different plan. But we’ve had to move up the date. It seems things have not gone exactly as we hoped back at the Citadel.”
“Mind telling me what that plan is, exactly?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, smiling his inscrutable smile. “Juliana, what do you know about parallel universes?”
THIRTY-TWO
“Wow, Juli.” Callum whistled. “You look amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I told him, reaching up to straighten his bow tie. I was trying my best to flatter and flirt, but my heart simply wasn’t in it. I was sick of playing Juliana, especially the Juliana Callum wanted me to be. I had far too much weighing on my mind, and on my heart. My thoughts kept careening back and forth between what Lucas had told me and Thomas’s predicament. I had, for a brief moment, actually considered Lucas’s offer, which revolted me, but I would’ve been crazy not to. It would be crazier still, however, to trust Lucas and abandon Thomas to his fate, whatever that was, not to mention leave Callum and the queen and all the people who were counting on me. Well, not me—Juliana. But at this point, what was the difference?
Gloria had chosen my dress, a long draped gown with a dramatic leather sunburst collar covered in silver beaded appliqué, and a wide leather belt at the waist. Callum was coordinating by wearing a silver bow tie with his tuxedo. His hand rested at the base of my spine as we stood together in the full-length mirror. I took a deep breath and let it out. Gloria insisted I wear a formal tiara for the gala, so I’d picked out the prettiest one I could find, a garland of wild Sweet Briar diamond roses mounted in silver. It was heavier than it looked and was already starting to give me a headache.
“Can we go back to the beach?” Callum whispered in my ear. I smiled at his reflection in the mirror, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“We’re late,” I said, moving toward the door. He stayed put. “Cal, are you coming?”
He tugged at his collar. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this kind of stuff.”
“You will,” I assured him. The question was: would I?
“You’re late, Juliana,” the queen scolded. She was resplendent in a long purple tulle gown, her hair piled high upon her head.
I could hear the low murmur of a thousand voices coming from inside the ballroom. The guests had arrived and were waiting. On the queen’s signal, two porters swung the doors open. A great, booming voice announced the queen by her title—“Her Majesty Evelyn, Queen Regent of the United Commonwealth of Columbia”—and she stepped over the threshold.
Then it was my and Callum’s turn. The voice, which was coming from speakers placed high above the crowd, declared us as welclass="underline" “Her Royal Highness Juliana, Crown Princess of the United Commonwealth of Columbia” followed by “His Royal Highness Callum, Prince of Farnham and the Western Territories.” My stomach turned at the sight of all the people watching with rapt attention, and for the millionth time I wished that Thomas was at my side.
Callum took my hand and squeezed it. Though I wished he was someone else, his touch was comforting. We walked into the grand ballroom and the throng of people set upon us.
The good thing about the fact that most of the gala attendees were strangers was that nobody expected Juliana to know who they were. They all introduced themselves, grinning from ear to ear, declaring themselves delighted at the forthcoming union between Callum and Juliana. Callum handled it better than I expected, switching on like a lightbulb and basking in the glow of all the adoration. So much for social anxiety.
After everyone had gotten to speak to us, dinner was served. The banquet table was as long as the room, and Callum and I had to sit at opposite ends, to spread out the honor of speaking with us, so I wasn’t able to talk to him. I spent most of the meal looking for Thomas among the group of KES agents patrolling the perimeters of the room, but I didn’t see him. Not that I thought I would. I only hoped.
When the meal was over, the dancing began. I wasn’t in a dancing mood, but I was forced to spend hours spinning across the floor with an endless stream of male guests. I tried as hard as possible to be cordial and captivating, but my mind kept wandering as they droned on about matters of state I couldn’t care less about.
When my last partner finally released me, I looked for Callum in the crowd, spying him dancing with a refined-looking old woman who was half his height. They made a ridiculous pair, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was doing his best to charm her, and she was laughing at his whispered jokes. I was about to go over and cut in when someone grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me through a side door into a nearby alcove.
“Hey!” I cried as a door shut behind me. The voices in the ballroom died away completely as the latch caught. I looked around in a panic, expecting to see Lucas or someone even worse. Instead, to my surprise—and great relief—I found myself facing Dr. Moss. He was holding a file folder in his hand, his eyes dramatically big behind the thick lenses of his glasses.
“Dr. Moss, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to have scared you, Ms. Lawson, but I’ve discovered something very important and I thought I should show it to you as soon as possible,” he said, indicating the folder.
“That’s all right,” I said. “I’m just glad it’s you. What do you have there?”
“I finally got a hold of Dr. March,” Dr. Moss told me. “I was stumped as to the cause of your problem, but sometimes when Dr. March and I put our heads together, great things occur. For example, your anchor. I couldn’t have invented it without him.”