But then, who had ever truly chosen Leda?
AVERY
AVERY HAD ALWAYS loved her bedroom, which she’d decorated herself: with its enormous four-poster princess bed, its scrollwork wallpaper deftly hiding all the touch screens, its two-dimensional paintings in their antique gilt mirrors. But now it felt like nothing so much as an ornate, blue-and-cream prison.
Atlas was still in the study with their dad, discussing the Dubai news that Pierson had dropped on them like a bomb. Avery knew that Atlas would flicker her as soon as he could. She just hoped he’d be able to convince their dad to abandon the whole plan.
She paced back and forth, still wearing her shimmering party dress, her hair twisted up in an elaborate knot and decorated with little gold beads that had apparently been the party planner’s idea. She’d sat still for almost an hour while the hairdresser painstakingly wove them into her hair, because while the styler did have a few settings for updos, everyone recognized those a mile away. Avery and her mom always had their hair done by a human professional before big events.
It all felt impossibly, dangerously heavy, as if every pin and bead—every stone around her neck, the diamonds in her ears—was dragging Avery inexorably down.
She hurried to her vanity in a sudden panic, her breath coming quick and shallow. Her hands fumbled as she tore at the pins, yanking them out violently, not caring that it hurt.
Eventually the pins and beads were scattered over the counter, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. Avery’s heart was still racing. She fell back on her bed to stare up at the ceiling, which was modeled after one she’d admired in Florence, though hers was rendered in a moving hologram—complete with live-action brushstrokes. She thought back over every little gesture that she and Atlas might have made in front of their parents, to give them away. No matter which path her thoughts led her down, she kept arriving at the same terrible sense of foreboding.
A flicker finally came through. Aves. I talked to him.
She started upright. And?!
There was a pause, and then, He’s pretty set on the move. But we’re going to talk more later. Don’t worry.
That didn’t sound good. Avery slid off the bed. She’d waited long enough—she needed to see Atlas, hold him in her arms; actually talk to him, not through flickers or stolen whispers but for real.
“Do Not Disturb mode,” she whispered as she stepped into the hallway. The words filtered through her contacts, alerting the various room comps that they shouldn’t automatically turn on the lights or heated floors as she moved through the apartment. It was a function that Avery and her friends used to employ all the time for sneaking out late at night.
She tried to walk carefully, but her feet were betraying her, tripping over each other in her eagerness. Avery practically had to remind herself to breathe.
“Avery? Is that you?”
Her dad was sitting in a leather armchair in the living room—which wasn’t his usual spot at all; usually he sat at the ponderous wooden desk in his study—in near total darkness. He held a tumbler of scotch casually in his left hand. It felt somehow like he’d been lying in wait, trying to catch Avery, like he’d been expecting her to sneak this way.
Avery stopped in her tracks, calling up what she hoped was a smile, but it was coming out all funny and distorted. Her chest tightened in panic. “What are you still doing up?” she asked, using Atlas’s technique. Answer a question with another question.
“Just thinking things over.”
“I was getting a drink of water.” She sidestepped toward the kitchen as if it had been her destination all along. She knew it was suspicious that she’d been creeping around in Do Not Disturb mode, barefoot and still in her party dress, but it couldn’t be helped.
“You do know that your room comp can get that for you,” her dad said, almost challenging. His gaze was glittering and watchful in the darkness, as if he could see through the layers of her many lies to the harsh truth underneath.
“I couldn’t fall asleep, and I thought walking around might help. It’s been a long night, you know.”
Even though her heart was pounding, Avery moved breezily into the kitchen and reached into the cupboard for a temp-controlled cup. She knew that even a hint of hesitation would give her away. Her dad’s silhouette was just barely visible, a shadow starkly drawn against the darker shadows of the room beyond.
Avery filled the cup from the tap, then pushed the temp setting on the cup’s handle to chill the water within. The silence stretched out so painfully, she imagined she could hear tiny screams inside it. She took a small sip, fighting a growing sense of nausea. Why did it feel like her dad was weighing her every move?
“Avery. I know you’re upset about Atlas moving to Dubai,” he surprised her by saying.
Avery wandered toward him and took the opposite armchair. Her dad gestured impatiently with his wrist, and the lights in the room flickered on to dim.
“I was caught off guard by the announcement,” she said truthfully. “But it sounds like a cool job. Atlas will be good at it.”
“I know you’re going to miss him, but trust me when I say that this is the best thing for the family.” Pierson was speaking very slowly and deliberately. Avery wondered if he was drunk, or upset, or both.
The best thing for the family. There was something ominous about that phrasing. “And for Atlas, too,” Avery pressed, suddenly determined to argue his case. “It’ll be great for his career, right? To run that big a project at such a young age?” She was watching her dad carefully, and even in the shadows she could see the way he flinched a little at her brother’s name.
“Yes. For Atlas too,” Pierson repeated, and from the tone of his voice Avery knew he hadn’t been thinking about Atlas at all.
“It’s amazing of you to give him that opportunity. I’m glad.” Avery suddenly felt anxious to leave. The longer she stayed here, talking to her dad, the greater the chance she might give something away.
“Anyway, I’m exhausted.” She reached for the water and stood up, smoothing the front of her dress with a slightly nervous gesture. “Good night, Dad. I love you,” she added, and as she said the phrase—words she’d spoken so many times before—she saw something in her father harden, as if the reminder made him even more furiously protective of her. Her heart sank at the thought.
It took all of Avery’s considerable self-possession not to hurry; to walk down the hall to her room with slow, shuffling footsteps, as if she really were tired and couldn’t wait to collapse into bed.
“Atlas,” she hissed when she’d finally shut the door behind her, saying the words aloud to send them as a flicker. “I really think Dad knows. What are we going to do?”
There was silence for a while, but this time the silence didn’t bother Avery, because she knew Atlas was composing his response carefully. He wasn’t the type to give an answer that wasn’t thoughtful or measured.
We’ll figure it out, he said at last. Don’t worry. I love you.
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his smile, as if the warmth of it reached across their vast apartment, through all the various doors and walls separating them.
Avery fell back on the bed and let out a helpless sigh. “I love you too,” she whispered in response.
She just hoped their love was enough to keep them safe.
RYLIN
IT WAS LATE Friday night, and Rylin couldn’t fall asleep. She kept flipping restlessly back and forth, trying not to wake Chrissa, who was barely a meter away in the other twin bed. But Chrissa had always been able to sleep through anything.
Rylin’s friends were all out at some big party tonight; Lux had pinged her about it earlier, but Rylin hadn’t paid attention to the details. “I’m too exhausted,” she’d said truthfully. After an interminable week at school—seeing Cord in the hallways and, worse, right there in front of her in holography class; not to mention dealing with the aftermath of her ill-planned impulse to partner with Leda on the project—Rylin hadn’t felt up for a party. She knew it would be too loud and too bright, and she wouldn’t even be able to hear her own thoughts over the clamor of the music. She’d stayed home instead with Chrissa, and the two of them had eaten frozen lasagna and watched a few episodes of some old holo about a girl in love with a boy, except that their families were enemies. Chrissa had sighed over their relationship, but something about it—maybe the forbidden, impossible love thing—had irritated Rylin.