But something’s still missing.
“What else about your mother?” I ask, knowing this story is far from over.
Before I’m half-finished with the question, Tristan’s nostrils are flaring as he sucks in a breath. “She recovered, of course, eventually. When she did, she came to me. I’ll never forget what she said. ‘Tristan, your father is a bad man,’ she said. ‘We need to tell everyone about what he showed us. We’re in this together—you and me. You understand?’ I did understand and I told her. I promised her I would do whatever I could to tell the world the truth. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Wait for what feels like the right time.’
“Then she got all misty-eyed, hugged me, and said, ‘I might not always be around, Tristan, but know I’m always with you, in here.’ She patted my chest, a tear dripping from her chin. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to protect you the way I should have.’ I was crying, too, and I didn’t know why at the time. I mean, yeah, I loved my mom, but it’s not like she was going anywhere. I didn’t realize until she disappeared three days later that she was saying goodbye.” There’s moisture on Tristan’s face but he either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered by it. My heart wells up for him, a dull ache in my chest that doesn’t sufficiently encompass the emotion of losing a mother. I give him my hand again, which I’ve so selfishly denied him as he’s told the hardest story he’s ever had to tell. When he grasps my fingers I shiver, because his hand is as cold as ice, almost blue.
Sad like him and sad like me.
Chapter Eighteen
Tristan
Adele doesn’t hate me for keeping the truth from her. Or at least she’s decided to support me until a time when I’m not a mess anymore, perhaps for the good of the mission. Even Trevor’s backed off with his smartass remarks, although I suspect it will be a short reprieve.
I know they all have a zillion more questions, at least half of which I won’t be able to answer, but we all seem to realize that they aren’t really important right now, not when we have a president to kill. So we leave the tunnel rest stop to begin the last stage of our journey, a brief and uninterrupted walk into the capital.
Although my heart is heavy because of the dark truths, both about my father and about my mom, that I’ve dropped like a dead weight on my friends, my mind is lightened, like a ball and a chain (and maybe a wall or two) have been removed from my skull, opening my mind to a whole new world, one without secrets and lies and inequality. We’re not there yet, but I feel like we’re making progress, without even having accomplished anything yet.
I sense a renewed determination in all of us. Perhaps it was just resting for a few minutes, or the group understanding that we all now have. Or maybe it’s just because we’re all sick and tired of being held under the foot of a tyrant. Whatever the case, we all want the same thing, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get there.
When we enter the capital, subchapter one of the Sun Realm, a place I called home for most of my life, a strange thrill zips through the very marrow of my bones. If nothing else, the city is beautiful, a notch or two above even the finest sun dweller cities. The simulated sunset is nearly complete, and the artificial sun is glowing red, a fiery ball above the buildings and parks. The automatic streetlights are blinking on, one by one, preventing any semblance of gloom from ever infiltrating my father’s kingdom.
Without talking about it, we stop as a unit to watch the red sun darken, until, a few minutes later, it goes dark completely, disappearing on the roof of the cavern. Instantly, the rocky firmament springs back to life, as hundreds of blinking stars and a glowing moon appear, casting nighttime light across the subchapter.
I glance at Adele, whose head is craned toward the ceiling, her green eyes sparkling like emeralds under the shine of the artificial stars. Her lips are parted slightly, an air of wonder in her expression, her skin porcelain, her hair a silk curtain. She’s looking at a beautiful sight and I’m looking at her—another beautiful sight.
“It’s wonderful,” she says softly and almost mournfully, which surprises me until her next words. “But I bet it’s nothing compared to the real moon and stars.”
As I cock my head to gaze at the artificial moon I grew up with, I realize that in that simple statement is an important truth: no matter what we try to recreate down here, none of it will ever be as good as what’s up there, on Earth. And that’s crucial to understanding the magnitude of the responsibility on our shoulders. Not only must we remove my father from his position of power, but we must take the Tri-Realms on a journey, both in their way of thinking and also in where they live, to give them back their humanity. This is our solemn duty.
“Am I right?” Adele says, turning her head toward me.
“About what?” I ask, not remembering her having asked me a question.
“About the moon. The real one is better, right?”
“Oh. That. I honestly don’t know. When we left it was still sunny. But considering how much better the real sun was, I’d guess you’re probably right—the real moon is way better.”
“I want to see it,” she says. “Tawni and I are moon dwellers and we’ve never even seen the moon. It’s weird.” This is a side to Adele I’ve never really seen. She’s almost reflective, the way she’s looking at me with those intelligent eyes, like there’s a poem on her lips and a song in her heart. It’s another part of her I want to understand better.
“Might be sooner than you think,” I say, wishing I could promise her what only my father has the power to authorize.
“You think?” she says, smirking, not buying the lie.
Night fully upon us, I lead the way into the city, feeling at home and like an outsider all at the same time. I keep my hat and sunglasses on, as I’m more likely to be recognized in this place than any other. The people here love my father and anything that belongs to him, which, from their point of view, includes me. Both my father and the people are in for a surprise.
The streets are crowded, the day’s Sun Festival events concluded, the night’s festivities yet to begin. This in-between period is the perfect time for us to make our move, when people are buzzing with excitement and the effects of whatever liquids they’ve consumed during the day. It will also mean my father has finished with his normal Sun Festival duties and is back at the palace getting ready for the typical presidential party that he throws on this day every year. Except this year is different, because he’s also trying to fight a war, so he’ll be with his advisors, getting the latest news, making decisions on what moon dweller subchapters to bomb, which innocent civilians to murder in cold blood.
I can’t think of a better time for us to go say hello.
We melt into the flow of traffic, just another group of sun dwellers out for a night of fun, oblivious to the death being dealt by my father’s troops below. Up here, death is something that happens to old people, after living a long and enjoyable life, not something in the present, in the here and now.
After ten minutes we’re still on the outskirts of the massive capital city, moving shoulder to shoulder with the other citizens, who are taking their time, clapping and singing and moving lazily forward like they have all night to get from one block to the next. Which, of course, they do. But we’re on a much tighter schedule, one that can’t wait for anything or anyone.
Leading the way, I hang a right, from busy street to busier street, in the hopes of finding a deserted alley we can use to cut across the city. Unfortunately it’s just another sea of people, brightly dressed, moving in all different directions as if they all want to get to a different place at the same exact time. Crap.