2

W hen Roman next emerged from the bedroom, he was freshly showered and dressed in warden black.

A hundred protests clawed up my throat. He should be resting, taking it easy. So far as I was concerned, he should be at the Medi-Center in the Quantum Zone, hooked up on IVs and monitored around the clock. He was in no shape for warden business.

“You’re going out?”

He barely spared me a look. “HQ has called an emergency meeting and I’ve been summoned.”

Roman wasn’t a senior warden. He wasn’t a High Warden. That’s what he’d aspired to, why he’d collected that blackmail material against the councilmen…just another thing I’d derailed in his life, his plans to reform The Smoke in the name of Amelia. It no longer even mattered that he’d exposed his blackmail material to the council last night to save me. There was no longer a council in Capra. They wouldn’t be voting when it came time to select the next High Warden.

I drifted behind him as he walked out, grabbing his windbreaker from a hook by the front door. “Is that normal? Meeting with the High Wardens?”

“No.” He paused, and turned to give me a proper look. “You kick-started the revolution, Georga. It was you on the screens last night, broadcasting the Sisterhood’s propaganda.”

Propaganda?

“And you’re my wife,” he finished.

Understanding hit me. “They think you have inside knowledge on what’s going on.”

“And what’s to come.”

We stood there, looking at each other, the air heavy between us. It took me a minute to figure out that he was asking me something.

“Geneva made it clear that while I might be the spark of this revolution, she’ll stamp me out before giving me any real power. I have no say in anything. She doesn’t trust me with any vital information.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

“For goodness sake, do you honestly think I’d have let last night go down the way it did if I’d known?” I threw a hand up, tears in my voice as I looked at his bruised face. “Do you think I would have let it all play out, watch you get hurt, if I’d known?”

Last night, Roman had believed in my innocence—or in my naivety , anyway.

Now, standing here, he wasn’t giving away a thing, but I knew. I knew he was doubting everything. I’d confessed so there’d be no more lies between us. But all that confession had done was open up a chasm of mistrust.

“Roman.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry. Do you at least believe that?”

There was no softening in his expression. “Do you regret a damn thing about anything?”

The question of the hour. Again and again. “There are things that have happened that I regret.”

“Don’t evade, Georga.” His gaze bore into me. “You said it. You’re not a passive member of the Sisterhood. Do you regret anything you’ve done? Would you do anything differently?”

How much should I regret? What should I have done differently? My true naivety was thinking real change could come about without devastating consequences. Roman. Daniel. They were casualties of the revolution. Maybe even my marriage.

So what was I supposed to want? Roll back the revolution and return to the way things were?

I could lie.

I could say what Roman probably wanted to hear.

But no more lies.

Roman wasn’t dead. He would heal.

I would save Daniel.

As for my marriage, well, it was built upon a foundation of secrets and lies. Maybe it should break, so we could build something new based solely on our love and brutal honesty.

Without another word spoken, Roman left. He clicked the door closed softly behind him with that impeccable control.

No raging, cursing or slamming doors for Roman West.

Change isn’t always a good thing. That’s what Jessie had said. Yesterday I was happy. I was content. Now all I have is hurt and anger and uncertainty.

I sighed and gritted my teeth. Not from anger, but to hold back tears. What was wrong with me today? I felt like there was a well of grief pooling in the bottom of my stomach, one word or look away from spilling out.

I’d lost Jessie. I wasn’t sure our friendship would ever fully recover.

There was a real possibility I could lose Roman, that our love wasn’t strong enough to survive the treachery of me.

And in their place, I had the Sisters of Capra. I had Rose, who’d made it clear she wasn’t my friend, that me and my loved ones were disposable cogs in the wheel of the Sisterhood. I had Geneva, who’d thrown me to the wolves, who’d stamp me out like a dying ember.

It wasn’t a fair trade.

You also have yourself.

As I sat there, I started listening more and more to that little voice inside my head.

I hadn’t blindly followed the Sisters of Capra like a brainwashed cult member. I believed in the cause. I was passionate about change. Most of what I’d done was not for the Sisterhood, it was for my own beliefs.

Whatever else happened, whomever else I lost, I had to remain true to myself. That wouldn’t lessen the loss, wouldn’t fill the holes in my heart, but if I gave up on myself, then I truly would have nothing left.

An hour later, I was cycling along the lakeside path in the Legislative District. My main destination was Berkley House, our temporary headquarters, but I wanted to check in with my parents first. Cold air stung my cheeks and I pulled the hood of my top closer around my face. The streets were quiet, but not empty. I spotted the occasional person out and about, the odd vehicle driving by.

My mother wasn’t home. Neither was my father, which was a surprise. Had he gone to work? After last night, I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t for everything to continue as normal, as if the council hadn’t been overthrown, as if the Sisters of Capra hadn’t patrolled the streets with rifles tucked in their arms.

I parked my bicycle and walked around to the back of the house. I’d bundled myself up in jeans, a long-sleeve t-shirt and a hoodie, but the bitter wind still cut through to the bone, so I took shelter on the deck, up against the kitchen door.

Across the lake, across the forest of Capra’s little nature reserve, smoke billowed from what I now knew was The Smelt, the industrial zone of The Smoke. My gaze kept drifting from the natural beauty in my backyard to the dark gray puffs in the distance. Here in Capra, specifically here in the Legislative District, I’d been born into a privileged existence. I knew that.

The Smoke was a polluted concrete jungle filled with hardships and shortages. But the people there were free. Okay, maybe not totally free, but they had a lot more freedom and autonomy than us. They had a lot more truths there.

Beyond that, outside, the wilds was ruled by Barons and cruelty. But they didn’t have walls. There was a certain type of freedom in that, wasn’t there?

I felt the tug, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, to run and run and maybe outrun every bad thing in this world. To run and keep going to the ends of the earth.

But life didn’t work like that, and it wasn’t better in The Smoke, it wasn’t better in the wilds, it wasn’t better in Capra.

We were born into our place and all we could do was make our little space the best it could be. Not even that. God forbid I aimed that high. I just wanted to make our little space tolerable.

I’ve never wanted to betray Roman but I had. I’d never wanted to hurt anyone, but Jessie felt deceived and Daniel was locked away. I saw the consequences of my actions, I accepted the responsibility, and I’d do everything within my power to make it right.

That’s not what I was grappling with now. What bothered me, what kept on bothering me, were the questions. Do you regret any of it? Would you do it all again?

Now I knew.

My shoulders straightened and my resolve firmed.

I don’t regret any of it.

I would do it all again.

But now that I was here, in the aftermath, I was just as committed to fixing what had gone wrong as I’d been to the path that had brought me here.

Starting with Daniel.