Prodigy

lips tremble. In one motion Anden leans down, takes both her hands in his, and pulls her up. “It’s just a glass of champagne,” he says lightly. “Don’t cut yourself.” Anden waves a hand at one of the soldiers near the door. “A broom and tray, please. Thank you.”
    The soldier nods in a hurry. “Of course, Elector.”
    While the servant rushes away for a new glass and a janitor comes in to sweep the broken one safely away, Anden takes his seat again with all the grace of royalty. He picks up a fork and knife with impeccable etiquette, then cuts a small piece of pork. “So tell me, Agent Iparis. Why did you want to see me in person? And
what happened
on the evening of Day’s execution?”
    I follow his lead, picking up my own fork and knife and cutting into my meat. The chains on my wrists are exactly long enough for me to eat, as if someone had taken the trouble to measure them out. I push the surprise of the champagne incident out of my mind and start planting the story that Razor made up for me. “I
did
help Day escape his execution, and the Patriots helped me. But after it was over, they wouldn’t let me go. It seemed like I’d finally gotten away from them when your guards arrested me.”
    Anden blinks slowly. I wonder if he believes anything I’m saying. “You’ve been with the Patriots for the last two weeks?” he says after I’ve finished chewing a slice of pork. The food’s exquisite; the meat so tender, it practically melts in my mouth.
    “Yes.”
    “I see.” Anden’s voice tightens with distrust. He dabs his mouth with a cloth napkin, then puts his silverware down and leans back. “So. Day is alive, or he was when you left him? Is he also working with the Patriots?”
    “When I left, he was. I don’t know about now.”
    “Why is he working with them, when he always avoided them in the past?”
    I shrug a little, trying to feign puzzlement. “He needs help finding his brother, and he’s indebted to the Patriots for fixing his leg. He had an infected bullet wound from . . . all this.”
    Anden pauses long enough to take a small sip of champagne. “Why did you help him escape?”
    I flex my wrist so that the cuffs don’t leave imprints against my skin. My shackles clank loudly against each other. “Because he didn’t kill my brother.”
    “Captain Metias Iparis.” The sound of my brother’s full name sends a wave of anguish through me. Does he know how my brother died? “I’m sorry for your loss.” Anden bows his head a little, an unexpected sign of respect that makes a lump rise in my throat.
    “I remember reading about your brother when I was younger, you know,” he continues. “I read about his grades in school, how well he performed on his Trial, and
especially
how good he was with comps.”
    I spear a strawberry, chew it thoughtfully, then swallow. “I never knew my brother had such an esteemed fan.”
    “I wasn’t a fan of
him,
per se, although he was certainly impressive.” Anden picks up his new champagne glass and sips. “I was a fan of
you.
”
    Remember, be obvious. Make him think you’re flattered. And attracted to him.
He
is
handsome, for sure—so I try to focus on that. The light from the wall lamps catches the wavy edges of his hair, making it shine; his olive skin has a warm, golden glow; his eyes are rich with the color of spring leaves. Gradually I feel a blush growing on my cheeks.
Good, keep going.
He’s some mix of Latin blood, but the ever-so-slight slant of his large eyes and the delicateness of his brow reveal a hint of Asian heritage.
Like Day.
Suddenly, my attention scatters, and all I can see is me and Day kissing in that Vegas bathroom. I remember his bare chest, his lips against my neck, his intoxicating defiance that makes Anden pale by comparison. The subtle blush on my cheeks flares into bright heat.
    The Elector tilts his head to the side and smiles. I take a deep breath and compose myself. Thank goodness I still managed to get the reaction I was aiming for.
    “Have you thought about why the Republic has been so lenient, given your betrayal of the state?” Anden says, toying idly with his fork. “Anyone else would already have been executed. But not you.” He straightens in his chair. “The Republic has been watching you since you scored that perfect fifteen hundred on your Trial. I’ve heard about your grades, and your performance in Drake’s afternoon drills. Several Congressmen nominated you for political