Once An Eve Novel

that sat in the hall, the beaten gold weights that hung inside it, making its hands move. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my bedroom ceiling, the stain on our couch from where she’d spilled tea. I couldn’t remember even a single paintbrush, no canvases or art on the walls. “I learned at School.”
    “I know,” he said, not elaborating on how. A smile crossed his lips, and he let out a small laugh. “I was with your mother on my fortieth birthday. She had planned this whole day. We went hiking along the beach, and she brought this miniature chocolate cake she’d made for me. She carried it the whole time, nearly four miles, just so we could eat it up there, overlooking the ocean. And she sang this silly song to me, this—”
    “ Today, today ,” I sang, unable to stop myself from smiling, “ is a very special day, today is somebody’s birthday .” I nodded my head, remembering how my mother used to hold my hands while we sang and danced in the living room, sidestepping around the coffee table and armchairs.
    I wanted to hate him, tried to remember all the things he had done, tried to picture Arden and Ruby and Pip in that brick building. He was the reason Caleb was in the Outlands, why we couldn’t be together. But right then, we shared something that no one else in the world could: my mother. All her quirks, her silly songs, the way her hair smelled like lavender shampoo. He was the only other person who knew.
    We walked silently through the corridor. Then he turned to me, leaning down so our eyes met. “I loved your mother. However complicated our situation was, however wrong it probably seems. I loved her. And our relationship gave me you.” He shook his head, his fingers pressing against his temple. “That morning I went to your School, I was excited. I had the same feeling I’d had the day my other children were born. And when we arrived and the Headmistress told us what had happened, that you had left, I immediately ordered the troops to find you. You can think whatever you want, but you’re my daughter—the only family I have left. I hated the idea of you out there, in the wild, alone.”
    I looked at his face, tense with worry. Then he stepped toward me, bringing me into a hug. For once, I didn’t pull away. It was inescapable, irresistible, even after all he’d done. I saw myself every time he held his fingers to his chin when he was thinking, or smiled with his mouth closed. We argued the same way, our words short and even, had the same pale complexion, his hair was once the same dark reddish-brown hair as mine—though his was now peppered with gray. He was part of me, the connection undeniable, no matter how much I fought against it.
    “Come now,” the King said after a long while. “Let’s get you back to the Palace.” He led me through the long corridor, past enclosures filled with other creatures discovered in the wild—pythons, alligators, a tiger who had escaped from a zoo. We left through a side exit. The sun stung my eyes. Sweat beaded on my skin. A million thoughts rushed into my head as we walked toward the waiting car. But then I stopped, my feet rooted to the ground, the strangeness of the scene revealing itself to me.
    Outside the front entrance, a few soldiers had gathered, their guns resting by their sides. They were all looking up at the electronic billboard perched high above the lobby entrance. There, in massive letters, were the words: AN ENEMY OF THE STATE HAS BEEN SPOTTED INSIDE THE CITY. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN? IF SO, ALERT THE AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY .
    And below them, a drawing of a face so familiar, it was like looking at my own. Caleb was staring back at me. His height, weight, and build were listed. Descriptions of the scars on his leg and cheek.
    I felt as though all the blood had drained from my body. The King’s hand was on my arm, urging me toward the car. “Genevieve,” he said under his breath, his eyes fixed on the soldiers in front of the building. “This is not the time. We can discuss this in the Palace.” I barely heard him as I read the last line on the billboard over and over again.
    HE IS WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF TWO NEW AMERICAN SOLDIERS.

twenty-two
     
    “I’M NOT FEELING WELL,” I SAID, PULLING THE THICK COVERS around me. The sun had gone down. The upper floors of the Palace were quiet and dark. Beatrice sat at the end of the bed, her hand resting on the mound of my foot. “Will you bring me something to eat? I’m going to