Displaced

Treason

Why does she need me to throw a fight? I rarely train in earnest, whereas she spends hours every morning with her mom. Actually, she’s rumored to be one of the best fighters on the compound. “Why not simply challenge me?” 

Lark’s gray eyes widen. 

“Come on Lark, you can tell me. What’s going on?” Please, please come clean. 

“Never mind. It’s fine.” Lark turns away from me and picks at non-existent lint on her pants. 

When I grab her hand, she jumps like I electrocuted her. “Tell me.” 

She yanks her hand away with wounded eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.” 

“You’re half human.” My words hang in the air like a cloud of gnats, impeding my vision of the future, clouding my memory of the past, a plague on my heart. I wish I could wave my hand and dissipate the reality of my accusation, but I can’t. Only Lark can fix this, by denying my wild claim. 

I need her to deny it. 

I’m afraid she can’t. 

When she doesn’t say a word, I struggle to breathe. Lark’s father must have been human. She’s only half evian. Every moment of our seventeen years as best friends shifts, recharacterized by my new knowledge. Her heaving when we run, her training alone, her reticence to travel with me. The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady, like there’s been an earthquake.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. “Why didn’t you confess years ago?” The realization that she didn’t even tell me now slaps me hard. I had to figure this out, about my own best friend.

A tear streaks down her face and she wipes it away ruthlessly. “What will you do now you know?” 

“Look at me.” 

She doesn’t. 

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that right now. I’d never turn you in. You think I could ever watch your execution? Lark, look at me.” 

Her lower lip wobbles. “I should never have asked in the first place. Mom was right. Why did I try to outsmart you? I’m deficient.” 

I can’t even imagine living with that kind of fear. Why didn’t her mother leave with her or adopt her out? The idea of life without Lark shatters my heart into pieces. All this time and she couldn’t even risk telling her best friend. That’s reason enough for me to throw one fight. No one should live like she’s had to live, and if I can create a safer space for her in our world, I’ll do it. 

This time it’s my voice that wobbles. “Your mistake wasn’t in asking, it was in withholding the relevant information. Of course I’ll do whatever you need. You’ll get into Security and select intelligence and then you’ll leave.” I realize one reason I didn’t want to help her before is that her Uncle Max lives here, and I didn’t want her to leave. 

But she has to go. 

If she stays on the island, it’s only a matter of time before someone else figures it out. “Then no one will ever know.” 

She shakes her head. “If you figured out why I asked, someone else might guess too.” 

“So we stage your challenge. Someone optimistically throws one down on me at least twice a year, you know, seeing as I’m the useless twin. I always turn them down flat, but maybe you’d make me mad enough to accept. Best friends know exactly which buttons to push, right?” 

The corner of Lark’s mouth turns up slightly. “Even so, Balthasar might figure it out,” she says. “During the match I mean. It’s dangerous, too dangerous to risk, which is why Mom said not to even ask you.” She drops her face into her hands. “Mom’s going to kill me when I tell her about all this.” 

“Tell your mom that you have an ally now.” I smile and take her hand in mine. “I may not be the Heir, but I’m an heir, and beating me will be enough. Besides, once you’re in the field working from the human side, you’ll be away from all the evian politics. And working on the human side, you’ll be safe.” 

“That’s the plan,” she says. “But when Mom finds out you know...”

“So don’t tell her.” 

Lark shakes her head. “I can’t lie to my mom. I can’t. I lie to everyone else.” 

Her life has been harder than I ever realized. “How slow are you, exactly?” 

Lark balls her fingers into a fist and swings at me. I duck easily. Her reflexes probably put a human to shame, but they’re notably slower than mine. Ugh. How will we pull this off? 

“I think the only way people won’t notice your speed is if I’m truly horrible,” I say. “Which shouldn’t be too hard. I haven’t reached the point of integrating active combat into my training yet, so I’m sure I’ll be convincingly terrible.” 

“You’re saying your mom’s insistence on training you in old school melodics might save me?” Lark’s smile reaches her eyes this time, and when her stormy gray eyes sparkle, I decide we can pull this off.

We don’t have a choice.