We dock at a short platform and disembark, and strangely the gleam of the Dome dulls more and more the closer we get. The five or six sets of steps up to the entrance vanish beneath our feet in a blur. It’s like just the sight of the Dome has given us a boost of energy, making our steps quick and light.

The inside of the Dome is just what you would expect from the outside. The massive stone roof curls upwards above us, reaches its apex, and then wraps back down, forming a semicircle that reminds me of half an orange, like my mom used to cut off the trees for Roc and me when we were little. Rows of steps wrap around the edges of the Dome, starting at the top and working their way down to the circular podium in the center. The space could easily seat fifty thousand people.

But today, there will be few. The forty-two moon dweller VPs; the leaders of the Resistance, like Ben and Jinny and Jonas and Maia and Ram; then there’s me and Roc and Elsey and hopefully Adele and Tawni and Adele’s mom—Anna, I remember—all surrounded by a few hundred Resistance soldiers providing protection for the whole event.

Already the VPs are milling around the center, shaking hands, talking and laughing as if this is just like any other gathering of Moon Realm leadership. You would never guess that the conclusion of the meeting could thrust the Realm into civil war, or worse.

As I’m still taking it all in, the Resistance soldiers arrive, pouring through the various entrances along the sides. They must have run to have made it here so fast.

“C’mon,” Ben says, tugging me at the elbow. “We should get out of the way.”

I resist, jerking my arm away. “But what about Adele? We need to be here when she arrives.”

Ben looks at me with understanding eyes. “We will be here. Just below, in the private chambers. My men all know to send them down the moment they get here.”

I look at Roc and he shrugs. “Okay,” I say, moving to follow Ben.

We descend the steps as if we’re going to join the VPs in the center platform, but then cut through an entrance to the seating area, tunneling beneath them. I know from my previous visits that there are dozens of rooms beneath the seats, where less public meetings are held amongst the politicians. It’s dark, even though the lights are on, and I’m reminded of one of the more mundane reasons we’re doing all this: My father refuses to provide adequate power to the lower Realms.

Not far down the hallway I can hear the murmur of soft voices. Soft orange light spills out into the tunnel. We make for the room—Ben enters first. “Vice President Morgan,” he says.

“Hello, Ben,” I hear her say.

We enter the space and I’m surprised to find a well-lit room with plush couches running along all four walls. There are only a handful of other people occupying them, including Morgan. I recognize them as a few of the other VPs who support the Resistance. They stare at us, hovering against the wall.

“Do you mind if my daughter joins us?” Ben asks politely.

“Of course,” Morgan says. “I understand that you’ll want to keep her close by your side during a time such as this.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a seat, everyone. We were just discussing the peace summit. Tristan, I’m glad to see you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here,” I hear my voice say automatically, but I’m not really thinking about my words. I’m thinking about how Ben is keeping Elsey close to him. He thinks something bad could happen. I’ve got to find Adele.

We sit down across from the other VPs and perpendicular to Morgan. “What’s the situation?” Ben asks. “Do you have a sense of where the majority lies?”

Morgan shakes her head, but not because the answer is no. “We’re still stuck at eighteen, Ben. Unless something changes drastically today, we’re not going to get a majority for the cause.”

Ben frowns, stares at the ceiling for a moment. I shift awkwardly in my chair. “Here’s what we have to do. I’ll speak to as many of the opposing VPs individually before the summit, see if I can sway them; I still have a few friends in high places,” he says, winking at me. “Then we will start the conference with a speech from Tristan to do the right thing, to support an honorable cause, that sort of thing.”

“But they haven’t listened to me before,” I blurt out. “Why now?” At that moment I feel a familiar buzzing along my scalp, and I gasp, but no one seems to notice.

“It’s a one-two punch. They trust me a hell of a lot more than you, so if I set them up for your speech, it might change their reaction. If we’re lucky we might grab the majority right from under their noses.” Yeah, we’d have to get pretty lucky, I think, massaging my head as it continues to tingle.

“I don’t know…” Morgan murmurs.

Before she can continue her thought, the door bursts open and Ram barges in. “I’m very sorry to interrupt,” he says, “but they’re here.”

I freeze. They? As in, her? I’m on my feet in an instant, my chest buzzing with excitement, my mind racing, feeling more adrenaline than if I was in a swordfight. She’s here!

I barely hear Ben say, “Just please set up the meetings, Morgan,” before he sprints from the room, with me right behind him.

“They’re in the first room to the right!” Ram growls after us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Adele

The train ride was long and I didn’t get nearly as much sleep as I would have liked, but still I feel wired. I’ve never been to the Water City before, and I’m taken by its beauty. And the Dome, which we’ve just entered, is the most beautiful of all.

I’m shocked by the buzz of activity inside. Men and woman are moving frantically about, dressed in dark-colored jumpsuits, some brown, some black, some gray. They’re not uniforms, because, well, they’re not uniform, but they look somewhat coordinated, like they’re all on the same side.

The moment we enter I feel a shiver down my spine, although I’m not cold.

“The Resistance is here,” my mom explains.

“What do we do?” I ask.

“Look for your father.”

Dad! I think, as my head swivels through the crowd, trying to locate the grizzly man I left in subchapter 26.

“Excuse me,” a woman says, approaching from the side, “do you need hel—” She stops suddenly, her eyes ablaze with recognition. “Ms. Rose?”

“Yes?” my mother and I reply simultaneously.

The woman looks back and forth between us. Initially her eyebrows lower in confusion, but then they slowly lift as understanding flows into her mind. “Anna and Adele,” she says.

“And Tawni,” my friend says.

“And Trevor,” Trevor jokes. “I’ll be down on the platform area making sure everything is ready.” He walks off.

I laugh. “We’re all here,” I say. “Can you take us to my dad—I mean, to Ben Rose?”

“Of course, of course. Right this way.”

Shivers of excitement are rippling through my body as we follow the woman down some stairs, into a darkened hallway, through an archway and into a room. “Just a moment, wait here,” she says.

There are three beds and two benches. Tawni and my mother sit next to each other on one of the benches, facing the still-open door. I remain on my feet, unable to sit for fear that the energy coursing through me will be stifled.

A minute passes slowly. Then another.

Then he’s there, the man from my childhood. Not the unkempt, unshaven, bloodied fighter from before, but the clean-cut, handsome man who raised me. I rush to him, but I’m too late. My mom is already in his arms, clutching him to her like releasing him would mean death for all of us. Over her shoulder his eyes are closed, his chin buried in her neck. I feel tears well up in my eyes.