“It might be a good entry point, give him a chance to prove himself,” says Warner. “Then again, if we’re wrong, he could prove to be a liability—”
“I’d like to see Hugo in action,” Juliette says. “He’s been in a holding pattern for long enough—”
“Fine,” I say, throwing up my hands. “You want hard data? Fine. She told me her mother’s name was Anna. She says her parents are dead. She’s twenty years old. Her sister is seven years younger than her. She has no other siblings. You already know about the wedding invitation; she was engaged to a guy named Sebastian back on the island, and she told me when I first met her that it’s not happening anymore. It’s possible they were matched together by their parents, which might explain why she was able to walk away from the situation so easily. It also meshes with the theory that she was born into a wealthy,high-ranking family, because, as you know”—I look up—“betrothals were a common practice among The Reestablishment elite, and the very fact that she was on the Ark at all indicates she enjoyed a rarefied level of privilege—”
“When did her parents die?” Warner asks, cutting me off.
“I don’t know.”
“Which sector did she live in?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you been able to gather any more information on the Nexus? How it works? Who controls it?”
“No.”
“Why does she have a scar on the inside of her forearm?”
“I don’t know—”
“Where did her bruises come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why wasn’t she informed of your identity before she killed you?”
“I don’t know!”
“Then whatdoyou know?”
“I know that she’s right-handed? She recently discovered she doesn’t like tomatoes? Direct sunlight sometimes makes her sneeze?”
Juliette yawns again, shifting against the headboard.
“Ten days,” says Warner. “Ten days you’ve been with her and this is all you’ve uncovered.”
“You told me to talk to her,” I hit back. “You told me to act like we believe she’s here for a chance at a new life. You told me to ask her normal questions with no hostility.How am I supposed to interrogate her when I was explicitly told not to interrogate her?”
“It’s calledfinesse,” says Warner, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Maybe I should do it myself.”
“No,” I practically shout. “It’s not safe for any of you to have direct exposure to her. Besides, you already have ten billion things to manage. Don’t take me off the assignment. C’mon, bro. This is bullshit. She already knows me—”
“Shut up for a second.”
I’m ready to protest, but then Warner crosses the room to Juliette, gathering her into his arms with a tenderness he exhibits with no one else. I watch, my anger deflating, as he helps settle her into bed, adjusting her head, drawing her hair away from her eyes. He positions extra pillows around her body, closes up her book, places it on the nightstand, and then draws the blanket up around her shoulders.
She murmurs a thank-you to him, and he kisses her forehead, the tender exchange making me restless, like I need to exit my body. Growing up with these two has ruined me for regular relationships. I want what they have.
Warner looks up at me as the thought crosses my mind, studying me as if I’d spoken the words out loud.
“Has she asked you any more questions lately?” Juliette asks, sliding a hand under her pillow.
“Sort of,” I say, the fight leaving my body. “She doesn’t ask a lot of questions about me, personally. But she’s been asking some questions about what our world looks like.She was confused about my watch”—I hold it up as proof— “the regular use of pen and paper, the touches of analog tech everywhere.” I hesitate. “She did ask a really specific question about the light in the Emotional Garden.” I tilt my head, remembering. “She wanted to know if it was real.”
Warner stiffens.
“Oh, she’s planning to escape,” Juliette says, stifling another yawn. “She must be expecting contact soon.”
