Onstage, Nikola adjusted her hat. It was the first time I’d seen her look anxious. She stood in front of her portable generator machine while Julian fastened the cable that connected the two units. The large sculpture of lightbulbs remained under a silk cloth, waiting for a dramatic reveal.
Ezra put his hand on my back. “Ready, Jo?”
“If readiness means feeling as if I’m about to vomit,” I responded.
“Find a discreet place to do it if you must,” he said with amusement. He kissed the top of my head, his breath warm and fortifying. “I … I’m glad I’m here with you and Julian. Whatever happens today, know that.”
“Nothing will happen today,” I said quickly, although no part of me believed that.
Julian approached us. “Change will happen today,” he said crisply. “That’s all that matters.”
Ezra carefully removed the House sigil from Julian’s waistcoat, letting his fingers linger there. “It’s almost time. Walk onto that stage as a scientist. Be proud of what you’ve achieved.”
Julian froze at the touch, his eyes on Ezra’s face. “Thank you.” He caught Ezra’s hand and looked as if he wanted to say more, but a clanging bell startled all three of us.
It was the procession from the House of Industry. Murmurs of excitement rose around us. The crowd instantly thickened as onlookers pressed forward to see Conductors and Transistors making their way to the Hall of Radiance for the ceremony that would mark the beginning of the Continental Exposition. Inside the hall, thousands of lights would surge to life with radiance.
Julian caught my hand as well, and for a moment, we were connected like the cables on the stage, a machine powered not by radiance but by hope. “Be careful,” he said tightly. “If the situation becomes dangerous, run.”
I wanted to tell him that this situation had never been anything but dangerous. Instead, I pushed up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “Break a leg, Senior.”
Ezra lifted Julian’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “You did it. Now get up there and make a colossal mess.”
Julian hesitated a moment more, looking between us, before he nodded firmly and climbed onto the stage to stand beside Nikola. She pulled a vibrant green cravat from her pocket and quickly fastened it around his collar.
“That’s that,” Ezra said, blowing out an unsteady breath. “Get to your place. And Jo—don’t …”
I knew what he would say next, that he’d caution me against resorting to violence. “No promises,” I told him. “Not today.”
“Promise to stay alive,” he said hoarsely.
My breath caught. He wasn’t worried about me killing. He was worried about me dying. Though his demand was nothing more than a child’s wish, I touched my chest and nodded. “I promise.”
As the crowd swelled, we parted and let it swallow us up. Ezra would make his way to the far side of the roundabout, where a handful of tall flowering trees provided shade and potential for him to use his magic to protect himself or others.
I weaved through the crowd toward the oncoming procession. As I pushed between people, murmuring apologies, I pulled the blue scarf from my neck and let it drop to the ground where it would surely be trampled to nothing. Perhaps due to my diminutive stature, others readily let me through, and before long I found myself pressed against the rope that partitioned onlookers off to allow the House of Industry’s delegation to pass.
Professors led the way, walking two by two, dressed in the ceremonial robes reserved for special events. I spotted Professor Dunn in a huge feathered hat that made her look like a tropical bird. Fighting the urge to call out to her, I trembled where I stood, trying to maintain my balance as people pushed me, craning for a better view. I didn’t need to call out. Her gaze, casually surveying the crowd, caught mine. I saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. She quickly looked away, but her chin dipped in a solemn encouraging nod.
I hoped she was proud. I’d learned how to be myself, for better or worse.
Next came a dozen young students, likely given the opportunity to come because they showed promise. They were flanked by House servants ensuring they stayed in neat rows and didn’t stray too close to the ropes. High-achieving or not, the young students were exactly who I wanted to reach—who I wanted to save the most.
I made my way to the pamphlets we’d hidden in a waste bin along the route. Hanging onto the rope, I squeezed through, enduring annoyed jeers and a few forceful pushes. Trying to move too quickly, I tripped over a man’s feet and crashed to the ground, spilling under the rope and out onto the pathway.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Excuse me.”
Someone lifted the rope for me so I could duck back under it. I looked up to thank them and froze, my entire body going numb with disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” Gertrude and I asked at the same time.
She surveyed me as I took in what she was wearing—not the proud uniform of a Conductor, but the drab robes of a House servant. She looked as horrified as I surely did. Behind her, a gaggle of first years glanced around anxiously. We were holding up the procession.
“Miss Gertrude,” one of them called out in a small voice. “Shouldn’t we keep walking?”
Suddenly, colorful pamphlets rained down around us, fluttering like pennants. One of the other resistors had made it to the stash before me, and they were throwing the folded papers every which way, into the crowd and onto the procession route.
The children crouched and collected papers, curiosity appearing to get the better of them. A few tucked pamphlets into their pockets.
