The plane dips slightly, and an announcement from our captain comes on the speakers. I pause to glance out the window and see a familiar outline of land emerging beneath the clouds. The curve of California’s coast.
Suddenly, thoughts of Hann dull as I realize that we are now officially over the waters of the Republic.
On the other side of the plane, Daniel stiffens at the sight andstraightens in his seat. For a brief moment, his eyes flicker to mine. I remember the last time we’d visited, how uncomfortable he’d been to return to our homeland.
Now we’re back.
And the Republic is strangely our savior.
***
Half an hour later, we’ve emerged from the plane and are headed down the ramparts. I follow quietly behind June and the Elector. Beside me, Pressa clings tightly to my arm as she studies the entrance into Los Angeles’s airport. Everything looks so different here, as if we’d gone back in time to a different era. Towering, brutal columns draped with bold banners of red and black heralding the Elector’s return to his country. Tall, harsh rectangular windows. No augmented overlays or hovering digital images.
Daniel is also unusually silent, his head lowered and his hands shoved into his pockets. Republic soldiers in familiar, formal red-and-black uniforms snap to attention as we pass by. I can see my brother flinch slightly when they move. Even when we’d been here weeks ago for my interview, he was quieter than usual. Every instinct in him must be telling him that these guards are here to kill us, to arrest him, to take away his family.
Suddenly, I feel a rush of guilt at his days spent constantly wandering the Undercity. It’s one thing to hear him tell me how much he wants to leave our past behind. It’s another to see the past haunting every line of his body.
As we’re ushered into the airport, a throng of waiting reportersflock to the railings holding them back. A barrage of cameras clicks into overdrive, and we’re engulfed in a sea of blinding lights and roaring voices.
“Mr. Wing! Mr. Wing! Daniel!”
“Commander Iparis!”
“Elector! Elector, over here!”
I blink, taken aback by the onslaught. Ahead of me, Daniel stiffens even more beside June, keeping his head down as the news crews push forward toward us. I put an arm instinctively around Pressa, who has gone wide-eyed at the mess of a scene.
June looks the calmest of all of us. She lifts her head and snaps her fingers at the other guards walking alongside the Elector, and they tighten their formation protectively. Then she presses herself beside Daniel enough for their shoulders to come together. When an overly eager reporter sticks his camera too close to Daniel’s face, June shoves him unceremoniously back.
“Make way! Keep this area clear!” Her voice is unwavering and efficient. The reporters part obediently, but then keep trailing us in a constant tide.
“Daniel!Eden!Over here!”
I turn at the familiar voice.
There, in the midst of the crowds gathered to see the Elector’s—and Daniel’s—arrival, is Tess, her face as bright as ever and her arm waving high over others’ heads.
She doesn’t try going up to June, who’s technically still in formation and guarding the Elector, but I do see the two exchange a grin and wink. Then Tess darts away from the Elector’s entourage and makes a beeline for us.
I’d first seen her again a month ago, when we’d returned to the Republic for my interview. I hadn’t recognized much in her then of the little girl I remembered—small, uncertain, with hunched shoulders and wide eyes, always wringing her hands. She’d grown tall and straight-backed, her hair cut into a short brown bob, her movements confident and precise to match her surgeon demeanor. But the glint in her eyes, the bright echo in her voice…thatstayed. And it’s still here now.
She waits until we’ve emerged and the guards allow her through, then steps toward us and throws her arms around Daniel’s neck.
My brother doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around her and hugs her so tightly that he lifts her slightly off the ground. Cameras around us click wildly. As he puts her back down, he tweaks her nose the same way he used to do to me as a child. She protests, shoving him in the shoulder. Like his second sibling. He just laughs.
It makes me realize how long it’s been since I’ve heard such a lighthearted sound come from him.
“Welcome back,” she exclaims, beaming at him, then looking over to Pressa and me. Her hand comes up to pat my cheek. “You haven’t been sleeping well since the last time I saw you.”
“I’m fine now,” I say, trying not to let my embarrassment show. Nearby, Pressa watches with an uncertain look on her face.
Tess smiles shyly at her before she holds out her hand. Pressa takes it, and Tess shakes it once.
“This is Pressa,” I tell her. “A friend of mine.”
What Iwantto say ismy best friend, my confidante, the girl who makes me bolder than I think I can be. Buta friend of minejust comes out. It sounds careless, even cold.
“Nice to meet you,” Tess says to her, and she manages a smile back.
