“A beetle,” said Zada.
“What?” Daphne’s eyes widened. She’d always harbored an interest in the creatures that had come before New Ionia—dinosaurs, whales, insects other than crickets or butterflies. Anything that creeped or crawled in particular fascinated her, and she had scoured every science feed she could find hoping to learn more about ants or beetles or bees. (Plants nowadays were pollinated by drone, and objectively, Zada understood this was better. Drones didn’t sting. But Daphne had always spoken about the animal life before the city like it was something that had been taken from her personally.)
“For your collection,” Zada added. “One that you absolutely don’t have yet.”
“There are no beetles in New Ionia,” Daphne said. “They failed to justify their own existence.”
“And yet, I have one on offer,” said Zada. “Take it or leave it.”
Daphne regarded her for a moment, then extended a hand to shake. “Those wing cases had better be magnificent.”
Zada took the offered hand, feeling the usual shock at bare skin touching bare skin. Daphne’s palm was warm and dry, her grip surprisingly tentative. For a full four-count, they simply stood there, hand in hand. Then Daphne tugged at her hand and Zada let go.
“Well,” said Daphne. “Shall we?”
They took the pedestrian path west, back toward the heart of the city. As the rumble of the factories gave way to the rush of trains, Daphne said, “You’ll have to take my word for it, but neither of them wanted it.”
“Wanted what?” Zada asked.
“Any of it. Flora and Aiden had no real interest in getting married.”
“But—” Zada hesitated, her mind racing. That was impossible, unimaginable. She and Flora had spent so many hours together, daydreaming about who their soulmates might be and debating their favorite romance novel tropes, the relative merits of enemies to lovers versus love at first sight and so on. Flora had maintained a feed of wedding style tips since she was thirteen. She had even burst into tears when she’d been matched with Aiden.
Surely, Flora had been more than ready to be a bride.
Then again, every time Zada had seen Flora in the run-up to the wedding, Flora had been exhausted, snappish, and stressed. There had been too many details to oversee, too many last-minute logistical fires to extinguish. She’d only relaxed the week before the wedding, when she’d gone in for Counseling, and thank the Founders for that. She seemed so serene, almost ethereal in her joy after her sessions.
True, Flora and Aiden had never so much as noticed each other at school. Zada had thought it all very romantic at the time, that love could bloom between two complete strangers.
But now, after being matched with Buford, it didn’t seem all that romantic anymore. And if Zada felt so little for Buford, someone she’d known previously and even liked well enough, what must Flora have felt? What if she, like Zada, had gone home after the ball and realized that she didn’t love Aiden? Had she been hiding the pain and disappointment of it all this time?
“Continue,” said Zada finally.
Daphne glanced at her. “You believe me?”
They’d crossed over to the shopping district now, and crowds of people swarmed around them. No one would pay attention to their strange, almost blasphemous conversation. But stopping in the middle of the walkway was sure to draw attention.
Zada pulled at Daphne’s sleeve, urging her onward. “Let’s say I do.”
“Well, then, it’s simple,” said Daphne. “Flora doesn’t love Aiden, and Aiden loves someone else entirely. They wished to escape, they told me, and I offered to help them make their exit.”
“From City Hall?” said Zada. “It’s a maze, sure, but it’s not that bad.”
“From New Ionia,” Daphne said, and Zada felt her jaw drop open.
“Leave New Ionia?” Zada echoed. Geography had never been her best subject, but even she could remember the toxic wasteland surrounding their magnificent city on a hill. Zada’s mother, who had of course grown up there, never spoke of her time outside struggling to survive, but Zada knew from whispers that those with the misfortune to live outside New Ionia had no electricity, no way to communicate digitally, no clean water—they were essentially living through their own Dark Ages.
Technically, it wasn’t illegal to leave the safety of the dome. Traveling outside was simply such a bad idea that nobody of any consequence ever did. For the average citizen to get cleared to go would’ve taken so long, and required so many years of paperwork and documentation, that the only people who weresanctioned to traverse the border were nuns on the occasional charity mission in their specially registered short-range ships. For Flora and Aiden, it would be virtually impossible to leave without running away, and that meant never coming back.
All New Ionians were united in their gratitude at living within the dome. To purposely abandon the city was like trading a jewel for a fistful of dirty sand.
“How were you going to help them with that?” Zada asked, once she could speak again.
Daphne shrugged. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”
“Daphne, this is serious,” said Zada.
“I know,” said Daphne. “Why do you think I’m not telling? I have no reason to confide in you.”
