Soon target practice is over and the winner is announced. It’s the dude named Dom, a sturdy guy with athletic arms and legs who’s about two heads taller than me.

This is meant to be training, but with only getting to take one shot, I don’t feel like I’ve learned anything. I stand up, take a breath, and promise myself I’ll do better on the next challenge.

Chapter Twelve

Tristan

When Ram came to get us, he said there was a “situation.” Whatever that means. He wouldn’t give us any details, but insisted that we follow him immediately. I thought about giving him a hard time, refusing to go, but decided it wasn’t worth the fight.

So now we’re traipsing back through the tunnels, along the familiar route to the honeycomb room. Elsey is humming softly while Roc whistles along. Some tune I don’t know, but that they both seem to. They are a funny pair.

I’m watching Ram’s every movement, daring him to try and hurt me again. This time I’m ready if he tries anything. To be honest, I’m somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t.

We pass through the common area, which is less filled than before, but not empty. It seems as if people are always eating in this place. My heart still feels slightly warm from my time spent with Roc and Elsey. It was nice, for a change—just being able to hang out, learn something about Roc I never knew before. My guard is down, but the walk gives me time to raise it back up. Whatever this “situation” is, it’s probably not good. Nothing in our world every really is.

We reach the same sturdy metal door as before, and Jinny is waiting for us.

“Auntie!” Elsey exclaims, running to her and hugging her around the waist.

“Ready for dinner?” Jinny says.

“Yes,” Roc and I reply simultaneously. Seems we can always eat these days.

Jinny laughs. “They’ll have food for you guys in there,” she says, motioning to the door.

“That’s what Mr. Meathead said last time,” Roc says under his breath.

I chuckle. “See ya later, El. Bye, Jinny.”

“I’ll miss you both dearly,” Elsey says, pushing the back of her hand to her forehead like she might faint.

“And you, Lady Elsey,” Roc replies in his best theater voice, generating a peal of giggles from his new best friend. Jinny smiles and shakes her head as she shepherds Elsey back the way we came.

Ram grunts and pulls open the door, holding it for us. “Ladies first,” I say, motioning for Roc to enter first.

“Age before beauty,” he returns, bowing graciously.

“I’m a day older than you.”

“And ten times uglier.” I fake a punch to his midsection and he flinches.

The cast around the table is the same as it was earlier. The Resistance leaders. Ben, at the head. Vice President Morgan at the other head, her back to us. Maia sits next to Jonas on one side, and flashes me a smile as I enter. Jonas’s expression is less friendly, his mouth a tight line. His eyes follow me to my seat.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Ben says.

“How could we refuse when you sent such a persuasive escort,” I say, watching Roc smile as he sits down. Even if no one else gets my sarcasm, at least he does. Ram grunts again from the spot he’s taken in the corner. I guess he gets it, too.

“We have a bit of a—”

“Situation? Yeah, we heard, but what does that mean exactly?” Unlike the last time I was in this room, I feel more confident. I have a better idea what to expect from the other people in the room. Vice President Morgan I know from before; Maia’s got my back; Jonas is one to watch out for, but could be an ally; Ben’s my biggest advocate. And Ram, well he’s just a bunghole. I smirk at my own thoughts.

“The President has taken over all the airwaves,” Morgan says. I like the way she calls him the President, and not your father.

“He does that all the time,” I say. “Whenever he wants to spout his propaganda.”

“True,” Ben says, “but this time it’s a message about you.”

“Wha…what?” I say, unable to prevent the slight stutter.

“It’s probably best if you see for yourself,” Morgan says, motioning to a screen that’s descended from a crack in the roof behind Ben. For living in a cave in the middle of nowhere, these people are full of surprises.

“Nice telebox,” Roc says. It’s the first thing he’s said while in this room, and his face turns a dark shade of crimson when everyone looks at him.

“It wasn’t easy secretly running lines in here,” Ben comments. “But then again, it wasn’t easy building a train network unknown to the government either.” It’s weird thinking about how Ben had another life, back before we were even born, a life involving secret trains and communication networks and the Uprising.

The dark screen turns white, and then gray bubbles buzz across it. “Acquiring signal,” a voice drones.

The screen changes, bringing up a visual that I know is from the Sun Realm, because the lighting is way too bright to be anywhere else. And because I’ve been there many times. It’s where my father conducts all his press conferences: on the steps of the government buildings. The camera pans to show the beautiful backdrop of the palace gardens. In the top corner of the screen is a message in red: Recorded earlier today.

President Nailin is at the podium. Before he speaks, there’s light applause from his admirers. “Thank you, my friends,” he says. Another round of applause. “There has been much speculation over the past couple of weeks about the state of our great Tri-Realms. Rumors of attacks by the star dwellers in the Moon Realm plague the headlines. People are worried about my son, Tristan, who went missing about the same time as the star dweller attacks began. I thank you for all of the letters and cards wishing for his safe return.” A pause. He licks his lips, scans the crowd.

“I’ve called this press conference today and will be broadcasting it for the next twenty-four hours, as I have a very important message for all citizens of the Tri-Realms. First, I can tell you that after some strong messaging from me personally, the star dwellers have ceased their attacks on the Moon Realm, and it is my understanding that the two great Realms are getting close to a peace accord. It’s a sad day indeed when any of the Realms are in disagreement with each other, and I’m so thankful I was able to step in and facilitate a peaceful resolution.”

I grit my teeth and glance at Ben, who wears a wry smile. The lies are so blatant I can barely stop myself from removing one of my boots and chucking it at the screen. This is bad, even for my father.

“Furthermore, I am so pleased to announce that Tristan has returned, safe and sound.”

“What the hell?” I blurt out. Ben points to the screen, urging me to listen to the rest.

“My son, bless his heart, left the Sun Realm seeking to find his mother, who, as you all know, disappeared a few years ago, breaking all of our hearts.” The camera pans to show the crowd, who are nodding and murmuring words of pity to the poor President, the victim of a terrible tragedy.

“Lies,” I growl through my teeth.

“Although he’s not yet ready to stand in front of all of you, or resume his duties as my son, he asked me to apologize to all of you on his behalf, for putting the Sun Realm through such a trying ordeal. My youngest son, Killen, will, effective immediately, stand in for Tristan, fulfilling all the duties of the eldest son. Please show him your appreciation as I do.”

As Killen walks across the white rock platform to stand behind the podium, my father claps loudly, leading a roar of applause from the crowd. My jaw is aching from clenching it so hard.

Killen’s face is lit up in a smile that reminds me so much of my father. Arrogant. Smug. Looking down on his worshippers. I hate him in that moment. “My friends,” he says, using the same greeting as my father, “I am so pleased to be able to serve you.” Scripted. My father’s words—not his—but he pulls it off. He’s a natural at BS.