Once An Eve Novel

that the code could be applied backward, from the end of the text to the beginning, using every ninth character. It took me two hours of rearranging, moving words and phrases around, until I managed something. The piece was a formal address to the people of The New America, a missive about the great honor it was to be serving as their Princess. I spoke of the upcoming wedding, my great excitement about the nuptials, and how I had first come to meet Charles in the Palace weeks before. I reread it, lingering over the word love . A sickness settled in my stomach. I kept thinking of Caleb, alone in some cold prison, his skin crusted with blood.
    KIN WE METE ? the message spelled. NO TYM TO DLAY . I wished I had more to offer—a plan, a promise that I could secure Caleb’s freedom. But if I confronted the King about the lies he would know I had a connection on the outside, telling me of Caleb’s whereabouts. Everything I did would become suspect again, and all the work I had done in the past weeks to secure his confidence would be for nothing.
    “Would you like to go down to the marketplace for dessert?” Charles asked as he helped me up from my chair. He’d been quieter in the past few days, seeming embarrassed by our conversation. Clara took off with the Head of Finance, glancing back over her shoulder at me.
    I pulled the folded paper from my pocket. “Actually, I’d like to speak with Reginald.” He turned when he heard his name.
    “What for?” the King asked. He and Charles gathered around me, the room smaller in their presence. The Head of Education lingered by the door to eavesdrop.
    I let out a deep breath. “I’d like to address the people of The New America for the first time. I’m here for good, as their Princess. I’d like them to at least know who I am.” I didn’t look at the King. I didn’t acknowledge Charles. Instead, I kept my eyes on Reginald as I handed him the piece of paper.
    “I suppose that’s all right,” the King said, his voice a little uncertain. “As long as there’s nothing objectionable in it, Reginald.”
    Reginald pinched the sheet between his fingers, his eyes moving down the paper. His brows furrowed at some lines and relaxed at others. I swallowed hard, my chest seizing in panic. He couldn’t know , I told myself, he wouldn’t be able to tell . And yet the memory of that night at Marjorie and Otis’s house returned. I saw Marjorie’s trembling hands holding the radio, her questions, so urgent, as Otis threw the extra plates beneath the sink. Which code did you use? I heard her ask, then the sound of that first fatal shot.
    Reginald pressed his lips together in thought. “Are you sure you want to print this?” His dark eyes met mine. The King circled around us, looking over his shoulder to review the content.
    I breathed out, trying to slow the pounding in my chest. “I am,” I said finally.
    Reginald smiled and passed the paper to the King. “It’s lovely,” he declared. He bowed slightly to show his respect. “The people will be delighted to read this in tomorrow’s paper.”

thirty-six
     
    THE GOLDEN GENERATION WAS BEING HELD IN A COMPOUND northeast of the main road, a closed-in section of the City that had once been called a country club. Its great lawns had been converted to gardens and the large ponds were used as reservoirs. Massive stone buildings now housed the children’s bedrooms, dining hall, and school. We pulled up the long, curved driveway. Soldiers stood along the perimeter, their rifles in hand.
    “Princess Genevieve!” A voice called out behind me as I started toward the glass doors. “Princess, over here please!” Reginald’s photographer got out of the car behind us, a camera in her hand. She clicked it incessantly, catching me as I ascended each step, the King trailing just a few feet behind.
    I couldn’t manage a smile. Instead I stared into the lens, thinking of Pip and Ruby and Arden. This visit had been my suggestion. I wanted to see where the children stayed, to meet them, to know the conditions of their everyday life. A big piece would run in the following day’s paper about the former student turned Princess—the girl who understood the volunteers more than anyone else. I had planned to give Reginald another quote, another message for the dissidents. And yet now that the day was here and the stone building was right before me, it was difficult to take even one step.
    “I think you’ll be pleased,” the King