“What did he say?” I ask. Somehow, I feel guilty when I think back on Anden’s request for me. If you can find it in your heart to ask Day again about his brother, I would be grateful.

Day puts his cigarette out on the metal railing. His eyes meet mine. “He wants to help,” he murmurs. “After seeing Tess today, and after what you just told me, well . . .” He tightens his jaw. “I’ll talk to Anden tomorrow. Maybe there’s something in Eden’s blood that can, you know . . . make a difference in all this. Maybe.”

He’s still reluctant, of course, and I can hear the pain plainly in his voice. But he is also agreeing. Agreeing to let the Republic use his little brother to find a cure. A small, bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Day, the champion of the people, the one who can’t bear to see those around him suffer on his behalf, who would gladly give his life for those he loves. Except it’s not his life that we need in order to save Tess, but his brother’s. Risking one loved one for the sake of another loved one. I wonder whether anything else made him change his mind. “Thank you, Day,” I whisper. “I know how hard this is.”

He grimaces and shakes his head. “No, I’m just being selfish. But I can’t help it.” He looks down, laying bare his weaknesses. “Just . . . tell Anden to bring him back. Please bring him back.”

There’s something else bothering him, something that’s making his hands shake uncontrollably. I lean into him, then place one of my hands over his. He looks me in the eyes again. There’s such deep sadness and fear in his face. It breaks my heart. “What else is wrong, Day?” I whisper. “What else do you know?”

This time, he doesn’t look away. He swallows—and when he speaks, there’s a slight tremor in his voice. “The Colonies’ Chancellor called me while I was in the hospital.”

“The Chancellor?” I whisper, careful to keep my voice low. You never know. “Are you sure?”

Day nods once. Then he tells me everything—the conversation he had with the Chancellor, the bribes, the blackmail and threats. He tells me what the Colonies have in store for me, should Day refuse them. All my unspoken fears. Finally, he sighs. The release of all this information seems to lighten the burden on his shoulders, if only by a hair. “There must be a way we can use this against the Colonies,” he says. “Some way to trick them with their own game. I don’t know what yet, but if we can find some way to make the Chancellor think that I’m going to help him out, then maybe we can take them by surprise.”

If the Colonies really do win, they will come after me. We’ll be killed, all of us. I try to sound as calm as he does, but I don’t succeed. A tremor still manages to creep into my voice. “He’ll expect you to react emotionally to all this,” I reply. “It might be as good an opportunity as any to hit the Colonies with your own brand of propaganda. But whatever we do, we have to be careful about it. The Chancellor should know better than to trust you wholeheartedly.”

“Things won’t go well for you if they win,” Day whispers, his voice pained. “I never took them to be some goddy compassionate softies—but maybe you should find a way to flee the country. Sneak off to a neutral place and seek asylum.”

Flee the country, run away from this entire nightmare, and hole up in some faraway land? A small, tiny, dark voice in my head whispers agreement, that I will be safer that way . . . but I recoil from the thought. I draw myself up as well as I can. “No, Day,” I reply gently. “If I flee, what will everyone else do? What about those who can’t?”

“They will kill you.” He draws closer. His eyes beg me to listen. “Please.”

I shake my head. “I’m staying right here. The people don’t need their morale crushed any further. Besides, you might need me.” I give a little smile. “I think I know a few things about the Republic’s military that could come in handy, wouldn’t you say?”

Day shakes his head in frustration, but at the same time he knows I won’t budge. He knows, because he would do no differently in my position.

He takes my hand in his and pulls me toward him. His arms wrap around me. I’m so unused to his touch that this embrace sends an overwhelming wave of heat through my body. I close my eyes, collapse against his chest, and savor it. Has it really been so long since the last time we kissed? Have I really missed him this much? Have all the problems threatening to crush us both weakened us to the point where we are gasping for breath, clinging desperately to each other for survival? I’ve forgotten how right it feels to be in his arms. His collar shirt is rumpled and soft against my skin, and beneath it his chest is warm and pulses with the faint beating of his heart. He smells of earth, smoke, and wind.

“You drive me insane, June,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re the scariest, most clever, bravest person I know, and sometimes I can’t catch my breath because I’m trying so hard to keep up. There will never be another like you. You realize that, don’t you?” I tilt my face up to see him. His eyes reflect the faint lights from the JumboTrons, a rainbow of evening colors. “Billions of people will come and go in this world,” he says softly, “but there will never be another like you.”

My heart twists until it threatens to break. I don’t know how to respond.

Then he releases me abruptly—the coolness of the night is a sudden shock against my skin. Even in the darkness, I can see the blush on his cheeks. His breathing sounds heavier than usual. “What is it?” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, his voice strained. “I’m dying, June—I’m no good for you. And I do so well until I see you in person, and then everything changes again. I think I don’t care about you anymore, that things will be easier once you’re far away, and then all of a sudden I’m here again, and you’re . . .” He pauses to look at me. The anguish in his expression is a knife cutting through my heart. “Why do I do this to myself? I see you and feel such—” He has tears in his eyes now. The sight is more than I can bear. He takes two steps away from me and then turns back like a caged animal. “Do you even love me?” he suddenly asks. He grips both of my shoulders. “I’ve said it to you before, and I still mean it. But I’ve never heard it from you. I can’t tell. And then you give me this ring”—he pauses to hold his hand up—“and I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He draws closer, until I feel his lips against my ear. My entire body trembles. “Do you have any idea?” he says in a soft, broken, hoarse whisper. “Do you know how . . . how badly I wish . . .”

He pulls away long enough to look me desperately in the eyes. “If you don’t love me, just say it—you have to help me. It’d probably be for the best. It’d make it easier to stay away from you, wouldn’t it? I can let go.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. “I can let go, if you don’t love me.”

He says this as if he thinks I’m the stronger one. But I’m not. I can’t keep this up any better than he can. “No,” I say through gritted teeth and blurry vision. “I can’t help you. Because I do love you.” There it is, out in the open. “I’m in love with you,” I repeat.

There’s a conflicted look in Day’s eyes, a joy and a grief, that makes him so vulnerable. I realize then how little defense he has against my words. He loves so wholly. It is his nature. He blinks, then tries to find the right response. “I—” he stumbles. “I’m so afraid, June. So afraid of what might happen to—”

I put two fingers against his lips to hush him. “Fear makes you stronger,” I whisper. Before I can stop myself, I put my hands on his face and press my mouth to his.

Whatever shreds of self-restraint Day had now crumble into pieces. He falls into my kiss with helpless urgency. I feel his hands touch my face, one palm smooth and one still wrapped in bandages, and then he wraps his arms frantically around my waist, pulling me so close that I gasp aloud. No one compares to him. And right now, I want nothing else.

We make our way back inside, our lips never apart. Day stumbles against me, then loses his balance, and we collapse backward into my bed. His body knocks the breath out of me. His hands run along my jaw and neck, down my back, down my legs. I tug his coat off. Day’s lips move away from mine and he buries his face against my neck. His hair fans out across my arm, heavy and softer than any silk I’ve ever worn. Day finally finds the buttons on my shirt. I’ve already loosened his, and underneath the fabric his skin is hot to the touch. The heat radiating from him warms me. I savor the weight of him.

Neither of us dares to say a word. We’re afraid that words will stop us, that they’ll tear apart the spell that binds us. He’s trembling as much as I am. It suddenly occurs to me that he must be just as nervous. I smile when his eyes first meet mine and then lower in a bashful gesture. Day is shy? What a strange new emotion on his face, something out of place and yet so fitting. I’m relieved to see it, because I can feel the blush rising hot on my own cheeks. Embarrassed, I feel an urge to cover up my exposed skin. I’ve frequently imagined what this would be like, lying with Day for the first time. I’m in love with him. I tentatively test these new words again in my mind, amazed and frightened by what they might mean. He is here, and he is real, flesh and blood.

Even in his feverish passion, Day is gentle with me. It is a different gentleness from what I’ve felt around Anden, who is refinement and properness and elegance. Day is coarse, open, uncertain, and pure. When I look at him, I notice the subtle smile playing at the edges of his mouth, the smallest hint of mischief that only strengthens my desire for him. He nuzzles my neck; his touch sends shivers dancing along my spine. Day sighs in relief against my ear in a way that makes my heart pound, a sigh of freeing himself from all of the dark emotions that plague him. I fall into another kiss, running my hands through his hair, letting him know that I’m okay. He gradually relaxes. I suck in my breath as he moves against me; his eyes are so bright that I feel like I could drown in them. He kisses my cheeks, tucking a strand of my hair carefully behind my ear as he goes, and I slide my arms around his back and pull him closer.

No matter what happens in the future, no matter where our paths take us, this moment will be ours.

Afterward, we stay quiet. Day lies beside me with blankets covering part of his legs, his eyes closed in a drowsy half sleep, his hand still entwined with mine as if for reassurance. I look around us. The blankets hang precariously off the corner of the bed. The sheets have wrinkles that radiate out, looking like a dozen little suns and their rays. There are deep indents in my pillow. Broken glass and flower petals litter the floor. I hadn’t even noticed that we’d knocked a vase off my dresser, hadn’t heard the sound of it shattering against the cherrywood planks. My eyes go back to Day. His face looks so peaceful now, free of pain in the dim glow of night. Even naïve. His mouth is no longer open, his brows no longer scrunched together. He’s not trembling anymore. Loose hair frames his face, a few strands catching the city’s lights from outside. I inch forward, run my hand along the muscles of his arm, and touch my lips to his cheek.