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The room was silent, waiting for my reply. “Yes,” I said quietly, barely able to hear my own words. “I will, yes. ”
The King clapped. The others joined in. Then everyone surrounded us, their hands patting me on the back and grabbing at my fingers, asking to see the ring. “I’m so proud of you,” the King said. I tried not to wince as his thin lips pressed against my forehead. “This is a happy day,” he announced, as though saying it would make it true.
“Can we take a picture?” Reginald, the Head of Press, strode over. His photographer, a short woman with wiry red hair, was right behind him.
“I suppose that’s all right,” Charles offered. He rested his hand on my back. I tried to smile but my face felt stiff. The camera kept flashing, stinging my eyes.
Reginald flipped open his notebook, scribbling in the margin until his pen worked. “You must be thrilled, Genevieve,” he said, half question, half answer. The King was right beside me. I spun the ring around my finger, not stopping until it burned.
“It is a joy,” I said.
Reginald’s features softened, as if my reply pleased him. “I’ve gotten tremendous feedback on the pieces I’ve run about you two. Forget the engagement—people are already asking when the wedding will be. ”
“We’d like to have it as soon as possible,” the King replied. “The staff has already been talking about the procession through the City. It’ll be spectacular. You can assure the people of that. ”
“I have no doubt,” Reginald said. He pressed his thumb on the back of the pen, clicking it closed. “I look forward to running this piece tomorrow morning. Everyone will be thrilled. ”
The smoke circled my head. Here I was, standing beside Charles Harris as his fiancée, made up in a dress and heels, doing what I’d said I’d never do. I recounted that moment in the prison so many times, Caleb’s bruised face, the raised knots along his back. They were going to kill him, I kept reminding myself. I’d stopped it the only way I could.
And yet now I was part of the regime, a traitor, no doubt, in the dissidents’ eyes. I imagined Curtis reading about my engagement in the factory, holding it up to the others as proof that he’d been right about me all along. Even when the tunnels were completed, they would never help me escape now.
The Head of Finance signaled Reginald from across the room. He was in a cluster of men, his blond hair gelled back into a hard helmet. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to attend to. ” Reginald raised his glass once more. Then he strode off, maneuvering past a woman in a fur stole.
The restaurant was too hot. The smoke snaked through the air and flattened out across the ceiling. I covered my mouth, unable to breathe. “I have to go back to my room,” I said, taking Charles’s hand off me.
The King dropped his glass on a waiter’s tray. “You can’t just run off,” he said. “All of these people are here for you, Genevieve. What am I supposed to tell them?” He gestured around the room. Some of the crowd had settled in their seats, others huddled together, speculating on whether Charles’s mother would be well enough to attend the wedding.
Charles nodded to the King. “I can take her,” he whispered. He reached for my hand, squeezing it so gently it startled me. “I think everyone will understand if we head out early. It’s been a long night. Most of the guests will be leaving soon anyway. ”
The King glanced around the room, at the few people standing beside us, making sure they hadn’t overheard our conversation. “I suppose if you leave together it’ll be better. Just say a few good-byes, will you?” He shook Charles’s hand and offered me a hug. My face pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around my neck, suffocating me. Then he started through the crowd. Rose was waving him over, an extra glass in her hand.
Charles and I headed toward the door. We offered quick explanations to the guests we passed—all the excitement had been too much for one day. When we were finally outside in the open mall, away from the crowd, Charles still hadn’t let go of my hand. His face was close, his fingers wrapped around mine. “What is it?” I asked.
“I keep waiting for something to change with us,” he whispered, his blue eyes meeting mine. I glanced over our shoulder at the two soldiers trailing behind us. They were ten yards back, strolling past the closed home goods store, the windows displaying copper pots and pans. “I know this isn’t ideal—”
“Ideal?” I said. The word made me laugh. “That’s one way to put it. ”
He refused to look away. “I just think that we need more time. To really know each other. They told me you had feelings for him, but that doesn’t mean this can’t be more than it is. That it can’t grow into … something. ” I was thankful he didn’t say the word we both knew he was thinking: love.
I slipped my hand out from under his. It looked so strange with the glittering ring on it, like some picture from a book. “It won’t,” I whispered, walking ahead. I closed my eyes, and for a second I could almost feel Caleb beside me, hear his low laugh, smell the sweet sweat on his skin. We were back in the plane, his ear to my heart, clinging to each other in the dark. “I don’t think that can happen more than once. ”
Charles followed me. “I don’t believe that,” he said. He stared at the marble floor. “I can’t. ”
“Why not?” I asked, raising my voice. It sounded so foreign in the wide, empty corridor. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone wouldn’t want to be with you?”
We descended the escalators. Charles stood on the step above me, his hand raking his hair. “You make me sound so awful,” he muttered. “It’s not like that. Ever since I can remember, people have talked about how I’ll marry Clara, as though it were a given. I was sixteen and everyone had my whole life planned out for me. ” The soldiers followed behind us. He lowered his voice, making certain they didn’t hear. “And then you came to the Palace. You were different. You haven’t spent the last ten years inside the City, doing the same thing every day, seeing the same people. I’m sorry if I like that about you. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to have feelings about this whole thing. ”
“Have all the feelings you want,” I said, an edge to my voice. “But that doesn’t mean I can pretend that this is what I always dreamed of—not to you. ”
As we crossed the street toward the Palace, his gaze wandered to the fountains, the statues of the Greek goddesses that stood fifteen feet tall, carved from bone-white marble. All traces of the man I’d met in the conservatory were gone—he seemed so unsure of himself now. He spoke slowly, as if he were taking great care with each word he chose. “This is what I want. You are what I want,” he said finally. “I have to believe that you’ll want it, too—maybe not right now. But someday. Probably sooner than you think. ”
We took the elevator up the tower in silence. Two soldiers joined us, slipping in casually, as though they weren’t watching my every move. I despised Charles then. I could only think about the conversations that must have passed between him and the King, wondering if this was something that had been discussed all along.