“After Grace… After the accident… you didn’t remember things. The healers said it would cause more trauma if we revealed the truth before your mind was ready. If we hid anything, it was to protect you.” Her voice cracks. “We had no choice.”
The pain in her face pierces my heart. But it doesn’t quell how much I want to scream at her.
“Let me get this straight. I was hurt, so you decided to listen to some fraudulent physician and deceive me?”
Mom takes a breath. “You knew about the Tether, Emma. Before Grace died. You knew as much about it as the rest of us did. But you forgot. There’s no right way, no right time to talk about something that awful.”
My mind races so fast, I’m dizzy. But Mom’s guilty face says a lot. She’slying. This isn’t the entire story. But no matter how much I try I can’t recall the week my sister died. I can’t recall a lot. “Mom, I…”
Suddenly, there isn’t enough air. I clutch my chest. It hurts to breathe. They’ve been lying to me about everything. How do I know if they have been truthful about how my sister died? Maybe the Tether killed her! I know something’s wrong, even if I can’t prove it and I can’t recall what really happened. I didn’t think my heart could break any more tonight. Apparently, I was wrong.
I should press for more details—about the Tether, about Grace. Demand the information that is my right as a member of this family. But I only want to escape.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Demetri and Papa hovering, waiting for a moment to cut in. They look just as guilty as Mom. The pain in my chest hardens, rage stirring inside me. They all knew.
Demetri must think I’m upset I’ll be chosen, because he says, “We aren’t positive that it will be you, sis. It could be me.” His smile is more sad than reassuring.
“Send me a postcard and let me know who gets picked,” I tell them, my eyes on the door. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m sticking around to find out.”
Suddenly, a darkness appears at the other end of the foyer. The same black haze from the big top. It rolls toward us across the marble floor, the bitter smell of sulfur filling the hallway. This time, the fog doesn’t dissipate. It grows thicker, coming at us in a black wave. “No, it’s too soon.” Mom places her body in front of ours. “I got this. Emma, Demetri, get outta here!”
Papa steps in front of her. “You heard her! Run, children,” he orders.
Demetri grabs my arm and pulls, but I’m frozen. The fog rolls closer, puffing out and snaking in as it grows. It parts around Mom and Papa.
It’s seeking me. I can feel the tug, the pull like a rough current on a windy day at the beach. Demetri tries to jump in front of me, but fog tendrils bend and encircle me. My heart jumps. Two smoky coils grip my legs, slamming me to the ground and knocking the wind from my body. Other tendrils grip my arms. I thrash hard, but my limbs are drawn apart and held still.
The world blinks into a midnight sky. I’m looking up at my brother’s blurry face. The fog tightens around my limbs like rope. My mouth opens, but no words come out. Instead, a wave of smoke rushes in, choking me. My eyes water. Darkness pools in the corners of my vision like inky tears. The ceiling’s constellations loom. But I no longer hear the distant partygoers.
Mom sits by Papa on the floor next to me, chanting words I can’t make out. My family surrounds me, clings to me. Fear surges through me. I wish I could tell them I don’t hate them. I don’t want to die with them thinking I do.
I have to get free.
I open my mouth again, choking and gasping. Glittery golden threads slither from my mouth and race over my chest and down my body. They flow over my right leg, slink around my ankle, and weave themselves into my flesh with a stinging burn that leaves me screaming.
Then, almost as suddenly as it came, the fog disappears. Mom puts her hand on my ankle and my injury changes, like a film played in reverse. The swelling lessens, the red angry color of my wound lightens, and the leaking holes around the thread start to close. The wound heals, inside and out, until my flesh is no longer marred. But the thread remains. It’s woven into my skin, like an exquisite, glittering ankle bracelet.
Grandmère’s voice is strangely reverent. “I knew it would be her.”
“My baby,” Mom whispers, a tear sliding down her nose. “She’s been Tethered.”
“It’s time to prepare her.” Grandmère sighs.
PART THREETHE QUEEN’S DEFENSE
CHAPTER SIXEmma BaldwinNEW ORLEANS, 1922
Instead of reporting to Grandmère’s chambers for battle training early the next morning, I climb into the trunk of Demetri’s Bentley an hour before he’s slated to leave for the future. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping he won’t find me, but each time I do, all I can see is Titus Baldwin and Venus Davenport, the memory of Sabine’s voice grating across my skin. I clutch my necklace in the dark.
The soft rumble of the Bentley vibrates beneath me, and I try not to get too excited that Demetri hasn’t discovered me. He won’t hesitate to turn around and deposit me right back with our grandmother. Unfamiliar music finds me, men speaking in strange, rhymed sentences. Is this what music in the future is like?
A thrill rushes through me, at the possibilities of what this place might look like, smell like, and sound like. I shouldn’t be this happy. Not after what happened last night. Not after all that I’ve learned. But maybe my heart needed something else to think about.
The minutes turn to hours, and my antsiness and desire to see time passing by have almost bubbled over when the car comes to a stop.
I brace myself for Demetri’s wrath as the trunk opens, shielding my eyes from a bright sun and the look in his eyes.
“Jesus!” He jumps back. “What are you doing here?”
