The Once and Future Queen

At a gasp from the crowd, I quickly refocused on the giant screens as the apprentice took a bolt of extremely expensive-looking cloth and put it inside his coat. He was then shown walking out of his master’s studio, with it still hidden inside his coat. It seemed a straightforward enough case, but the film kept rolling. We were shown the apprentice in a shabby room, crowded with people – his family, presumably. Once they were all asleep, he got up and, despite the long hours he had already worked, sat night after night, cutting and sewing the cloth by candlelight. The dress he produced was remarkable, an object of incredible beauty. The footage concluded, as it always did, with the sentinels arresting him. His mother was screaming, his brothers and sisters crying, as he was pulled unresisting from his home.

The vote began. There was no denying that the crime had been committed and by kneeling the apprentice had chosen to throw himself on the mercy of the city. In some cases, sentences were lightened if the city could see a mitigating motivation or another factor that inspired mercy. In this case, it looked as though the apprentice was hoping the end would justify the means. He shouldn’t have stolen from his master, but the dress he had produced had been a credit to the rich cloth.

Wary of my father’s warning, I hesitated over the judgement. The young man’s talent had been suppressed and I inwardly applauded his courage in doing something he knew was wrong to attain something he felt was right. I twisted the platinum ring on my left hand, closing my eyes as I pressed guilty with my right. I could only hope the wider audience had voted innocent. The clock counted down and the young man flinched as the dong signalled the end of the vote.

The man’s mask was removed, revealing a thin, pale face, his frail frame looking as if he would crumble at any moment. The praetor accepted the note and on reading it, his thumb pointed down.

“Apprentice Oban, the city has spoken and has found you guilty at a rate of 62.38%. It appears many citizens of the city wish to grant you some clemency. Having previewed the case, we had prepared for such a result. Master Simmonds, take the sands.”

The camera panned to the apprentice’s master in the box reserved for the witnesses that were on occasion called on to answer a question or report on an event not caught on camera. The fussy looking master tailor seemed startled as he took his place in the centre of the arena beside the apprentice who had stolen from him.

“Lord High Justice,” he called up to the council's box, “I don’t understand. I have done nothing. This man stole from me and I reported the crime. Why must I stand here in the place of judgement?”

Praetor Calchas did not appear pleased to be spoken to out of turn like this and stood in stony silence until the tailor stopped talking.

“It is for me to decide who stands in judgement on these sands, Master Tailor, not you. Am I understood?”

Despite it clearly being rhetorical, the man hastily nodded his agreement.

“We stand here today in judgement of a man guilty of theft. However, the city, in its wisdom, has indicated that it wishes to show leniency. We find that this man’s crime was caused by a more insidious crime – that of stifling the talent of a citizen. Master Tailor Simmonds, we find that you are a fool and as such will be attired as befits that status.”

The sentinels pulled Master Simmonds over to a small tent at the edge of the arena. The praetor turned his attention to the trembling young man who was watching in shock as his master was led away.

“Apprentice Oban, theft is not an offence to which we usually grant leniency. Yet it would be a shame to leave one of those talented hands upon the sands here today. Therefore, you will share your master’s punishment.”

At his nod, the young man was also led away by the sentinels towards the tent. Praetor Calchas turned and spoke to the governor until laughter broke out from the crowd as the pair reappeared. Master Simmonds, his dignity clearly much offended, was dressed as a clown, while his red-faced apprentice followed behind dressed in a larger version of the dress that had been his undoing. The praetor’s face lit up in amusement as they retook their position to the jeers and catcalls of the crowd.

“You have been dressed as befits your crimes, sirs.”

The oddly attired duo stood awaiting their sentence.

“For the crime of stupidity, Master Simmonds, you must bear this costume for a month as you go about your daily business in the hope that you remember not to waste opportunities that are gifted to you. Apprentice Oban, you too shall don this outfit for a month while you serve your master honestly. After this time, you will attend the College of Design to be more appropriately trained as befits your talent. You will thereafter be established with your own shop. The fees for your education and shop will be taken from your profits, after which you will donate 30% of your earnings for your lifetime to a fund to educate other deserving citizens who would not otherwise be given such an opportunity.”

He paused, allowing the audience a moment to appreciate his mercy.

“This is the sentence of the city upon you both.”

Both men nodded their acceptance, the apprentice clearly still shocked by the turn of events. He must have entered the arena today expecting to lose a hand, the customary punishment given to those found guilty of petty theft. Instead, he would be walking away to a future so much brighter than the one he’d had before committing his crime. I felt a flash of relief at his sentence too, grateful that my attempt to improve the weighting of my own voting record hadn’t harmed him in any way. He was rained with flowers as he left the arena wearing the dress that had so changed his fate. I spotted the fashion-forward Ginevra tucking his name away in anticipation of his shop opening. It shouldn’t take too long for him to discharge his debt and set up shop.

I refocused on the remaining cases. Most were minor and were sentenced to the stocks or other public humiliations. The last but one was a shocking adultery case. Crime in the city was low, but crimes against family and loyalty – the core of the Code – were beyond rare, especially given our matching system. The woman stood, head bowed, as she took her place at the centre of the arena, which meant the footage captured must be impossible to deny. Her lover had fled into the stews, but it was only a matter of time before he too was brought before the city. The woman’s mask was removed to reveal a tear-stained face. She was summarily sentenced to exile from the city, stripped bare before us all and redressed in sackcloth, her hair shorn, then marched out of the arena. She would be walked to the eastern gate at the end of the Mete and thrown out to meet whatever fate awaited her as a destitute beggar in the Shadowlands. The route to the eastern gate would take her across the city and undoubtedly would be full of people turning out to shower her with further humiliation.

The woman was barely off the sand before the crowd in the arena turned their attention with interest to the latecomer who had been dragged in. He stood now, having found his feet at some point during proceedings, alone in the cage.

He shrugged off the hands of the sentinels as they attempted to march him to the centre of the sands. Despite the mask blinding him, he strode in the direction he had been facing until at their command, he came to a stop. His hearing must have already been restored, his spine straightening further at the sound of the crowd jeering him for his attitude.

“You are accused of crimes against the Code. How do you plead?”

It was a surprise to no one when the man refused to bend the knee. The mob erupted, clamouring to see the evidence, condemning him already for the insolence he had shown to the sentinels. The praetor raised his hand to command silence. When the deafening noise subsided, he spoke directly to the audience.

“You are accused of hacking.”

I lifted a trembling hand to my lips. Hacking struck at the very heart of our security. The walls were the physical symbol of our defences against the island’s natives, but it was our technology that was the real deterrent to the armies that occupied the lands around us, keeping them from attacking. Hacking was, therefore, a capital offence. My dream evening had turned into my worst nightmare. I dug my nails into my hands to prevent my face from revealing my horror. I could abstain from the vote, and no one around me would know, but I couldn’t avoid watching the blood spill on the sand. I was in the actual live audience; I couldn’t risk the camera panning to me and be caught not showing the proper form for an execution of someone found guilty of such a heinous crime against the state.

The crowd was in a frenzy at the prospect, but I watched as the praetor spoke in an aside with Governor Actaeon, and a couple of other senators. When he returned to his position at the front of the balcony, the amphitheatre fell silent in panting anticipation.

“Sir, you have been found guilty of hacking and damaging the security of the Code – the Code of tonight’s most honoured guest.”

I could barely hear him over the sound of my pounding heart.

“As you have damaged the city, the city in its turn demands you be damaged in punishment. You are sentenced to public flogging.”

The crowd buzzed as everyone turned to their neighbour to check if they had heard correctly. This man was to get off so lightly…? What was going on? The praetor stood impassively as the crowd began to hiss in disgust and anger at being denied a capital vote as the hooded man was strung up and his back bared.

Any earlier delight at how close my seat was to the front evaporated. I felt only churning dismay as I watched the flecks of blood hit the sand. From where I sat I was looking at his front so thankfully I couldn’t see the lash gouge into his flesh, but I could see the impact of each hit, his body arching in agony at each blow. His chest was already coloured in fresh bruises. Had he fought the sentinels? Was that why he hadn’t made his entrance with the others? I strained to control my own body’s flinch each time the whip came down, twisting and turning the ring that felt so heavy on my finger. The crowd stopped jeering as it delightedly took up the count. While an execution didn’t come along all that often, floggings were pretty rare as well. Devyn’s face flashed into my mind. He had been taken this morning… but no, my imagination was running away with me. No way was this man an elite. What motive would one of my class possibly have to do something so criminal?

I struggled to keep the contents of my stomach on the inside as the count reached the high teens. Blood ran down the man’s body onto the ground beneath him, trails of it dripping off the whip as it was raised each time. I glued my eyes on a point on the distant wall behind him. I really was going to throw up if I continued to watch. At least it would appear as if I was looking in the right direction. I kept my face impassive even as Ginevra leaned in to calm my fingers worrying aggressively at my promise ring. My eyes met those of Marcus Courtenay, who finally looked my way, but I was too numb to acknowledge him, each blow causing my gaze to lose more and more focus.

Twenty.

Finally, it was over.

The man fell to the ground as he was untied. Sentinels picked him up directed by a praetorian guard, the laurel emblem on his chest silver rather than the standard red of the sentinels. Why would a praetorian be overseeing the clearing up of a punished Codebreaker? It was lowly work for the esteemed guard of the council. Praetor Calchas thanked the citizenry for their duty, and we all stood as the senators and various dignitaries made their exit.

The crowd was mostly discussing the hacker’s light sentence as we made our way out of the arena. I overheard two senior men discussing the possibility that the hacker would be put to some other use by the city. My friends were less concerned at the hacker’s fate and more disappointed at not being shown the adulterer’s footage, but I could barely force myself to listen to them as my stomach was still in danger of revolting. A last glance at the arena before we exited showed the last accused, still masked, being dragged across the sand. He wasn’t moving and his head was hanging on his chest; I hoped he wasn’t conscious.

As we walked out, my thoughts turned to the crime I had witnessed – participated in – this morning. I needed to rid myself of all ties to it. While being in possession of black-market tech was a long way from hacking, I was still perilously close to a major transgression. With this fresh reminder of how the city frowned on any violation of the Code, I was stunned at my earlier actions.

What had I been thinking?

Chapter Three

“Where is it?”

“No ‘hi, hello, thanks for saving my skin’?” I asked, even as some part of me unclenched at finding myself cornered by Devyn Agrestis, dark eyes glaring down at me in an intense way that seemed at odds with my memories of his usually diffident character.

“Cassandra.” My name was half command, half frustrated exhale. “Just give it to me, and we can pretend like this never happened.”

My jaw dropped. Obviously, pretending yesterday’s blip never happened was the best way forward and certainly what I had resolved to do after my meltdown last night. But a little appreciation of the risk I had taken wouldn’t hurt either.

“Never happened? You… are you kidding me? First off, you smuggle some kind of nonregulation device into the forum of all places, then you get picked up by the sentinels, and”—my hand lifted until I was jabbing him in his surprisingly firm chest—“then you disappear for the rest of the day. I’ve been going out of my mind. There was a part of me that even thought maybe you were that hacker, last night, the one…”

My finger changed from being a taut instrument of accusation as a thought occurred to me, softening as its fellows uncurled to join it. Was it possible? I traced the outline of his chest with gentle fingertips, shaping, learning as they travelled the length of his torso around to his back where I pressed hard watching for a flinch. No reaction. I sagged in relief even as my fingers continued their path down his unmarred muscular back. He wasn’t the accused flogged last night. My breath hitched as I once again felt that odd tingle in the current that flowed between us.

I shook my head to clear it.

The sound of Ginevra calling my name made us turn – and taking this in, Devyn stepped back towards me slightly.

“Cassandra”—his tone softened to a hesitant plea—“I was hoping you might take a walk with me later, after class, perhaps?”

Before I had time to tell him in no uncertain terms what kind of walk he could take, he was gone, consumed by the tide of people who were making their way to the licensing offices.

I picked up my tablet as the last class of the day ended. What should I do, meet him? My stomach felt hollow at the thought. What did I know about Devyn, really, much less his damn illegal tech? What on earth was he doing with it and, more importantly, what did it do? The sentinels had dragged him out of class, but what had he told them? He couldn’t have said anything incriminating. They surely wouldn’t have let him out if he had. Nor would I be sitting here wondering whether or not taking a walk with a boy was going to land me in more trouble than I had ever believed possible.

I was not a rule breaker; I ticked every requirement of the Code. I was obedient, a good daughter, a moderate but diligent student. Abiding by the Code wasn’t even something I usually had to give any thought to; it was second nature. What on earth was I thinking? I wasn’t going to get involved, I should never have taken the device out of his pocket in the first place. It was none of my business. Devyn and his technology, wherever it was from, had nothing to do with me. All I needed to do was give him back whatever it was and I would be done with the whole business. In a few days, I could forget this had ever happened.

Resolved, I stood up and made my way down the hall towards the library in the Great Basilica.

Until a hand slid into mine and tugged.

And that quickly I was undone.

Up the hall and to the right lay sanity and sense: collect the tech, meet Ginevra, walk home via the river, toss it in… It would be that simple.

But somehow, I found myself traipsing after the slight figure in front of me, his movements lithe as I followed in his wake. He no longer held my hand and yet my path was unwavering, as if he had clamped a manacle around my wrist, the other end attached to his. I couldn’t have turned around and walked away if I tried.

Somehow, Code breaking felt more right and more natural than the Code compliance I was usually so good at.

I trailed behind Devyn as he wound his way through the porticoed arcade and out of the main entrance of the forum, moving west through the streets. The neon lures of the shops on the bridge were projected out before us – the latest running shoes briefly adorning his feet, a version of myself twirling in the most adorable little skirt as we passed one of my favourite clothes shops, the blue eyes of my avatar flashing as my body spun, long bright hair streaming. I brushed it away, irritably.

He led us through the financial districts, winding along the tangled walkways that curled around the grand formal architecture at this level, across the square that roofed the ancient Temple of Diana towards one of the great parks that sat at mid-level.

We turned right, continuing to walk along the open galleries until we hit the edge of the Pleasure Gardens, half a mile above river level, a wide expanse of manicured hedges, exotic trees, and lush flowers, paths curling in and around to their best advantage.

Devyn’s pace slowed, his dark head turning to acknowledge me for the first time since he touched my hand in the hallway, indicating that I should catch up to him. I paused. Was this a good idea? Would it be better to leave now?

Devyn’s head turned a little more. His eye caught mine, and his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He knew I was nervous and yet he was daring me to do what I did not want to do. I took a step forward, and another, until I was alongside him.

He smirked, fiddling with his wristband.

“We are free to talk here.” Despite his words, his voice was still low.

“So… are you going to tell me what’s going on? What were you doing with that tech? What is it? What did you say to the sentinels? Wh—” I stopped and stared at him mutinously. “Tell me.”

“It’s sort of a long story, Cass.” His dark eyes fixed on me and I forgot to object to his irksome shortening of my name. “Why don’t we sit down?”

We sat on an old bench beside a fountain, the wood grey with age and warped at the joins. Few people came to this part of the gardens and, more pertinently, there didn’t seem to be a single camera in sight. It was rare for a place to be so unobserved, but I was grateful for it. The last thing I needed was the city’s surveillance catching me associating with someone recently questioned by the sentinels.

“I wasn’t expecting… that yesterday morning,” he began.

I snorted. “I don’t suppose you were. What were you doing bringing unauthorised tech into class?” I lowered my voice. “Into the forum?”

His lips lifted in the corner like I had said something amusing but only he was in on the joke. It was the first time I had seen the expression on his face but I was already starting to find it incredibly annoying.

“No,” he corrected, “I meant I wasn’t expecting you. Why did you help me? You didn’t have to get involved.”

Why had I helped him?

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered, thrown. “It wasn’t planned. But I couldn’t let them arrest you with the device on you, so it seemed… for the best.”

“Ah, so you thought it through then?”

I really hadn’t. My heart thumped at the recollection of that moment. I just hadn’t wanted him to get caught; it had been a reflex more than a decision. And I had ended up an accomplice to a major Code violation as a result.

Devyn reached across and patted down my pockets before he looked up and, taking in my expression of outrage, regarded me oddly. His hand lifted as if compelled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My breath hitched as, again, the nondescript boy I knew seemed to morph into someone I felt I was conjuring: lean, intense, strong; the cheekbones sharper, shoulders broader.

I blinked. A trick of the light? But no, I hadn’t forgotten that feeling when he caught me in class, or what I saw when I touched him in the forum. Something very odd was going on.

I jumped up; I was out of here. I stepped jerkily back out of reach, the breath in my lungs suddenly lacking in oxygen. I couldn’t get enough air.

Once again, Devyn was there, in front of me, his soft brown eyes locked with mine, an arm looping around the small of my back pulling me close as he laid his hand on my chest, the weight steadying me, connecting me to the ground, to him. I stood still, dragging in deep steady breaths in time with his.

“Okay?”

I nodded and he stepped away, backing out of my space as unobtrusively as he could. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes, an action that nagged at me like a cut on the inside of my lip, unnoticed until eating food containing salt when the pain would burst into life leaving you wondering how on earth you had forgotten it was there. Now, as the pain zinged through me, I noticed how much care he took not to touch me, doing so as little as possible. Yet he had already touched me more often in the last two days than anyone else had all week. As he backed away, I stepped towards him without conscious thought, drawn to him like metal filings to a magnet.

His knees hit the bench and he allowed his tall length to fold in on itself. I continued forward, letting my fingers run mesmerised through his dark hair and down his strong jawline.

“Who are you, Devyn Agrestis?”

“Same guy I’ve always been.” He pulled back, putting himself out of reach of my searching fingers. My eyes struggled to focus and I blinked down at the skinny, unremarkable boy looking calmly up at me from the bench.

“No, no, you aren’t,” I insisted. “I know what – okay, I don’t know what just happened – but I know that something did.”

He looked back at me impassively with polite confusion.

“I’m not crazy,” I insisted, at his raised eyebrow. “You’re doing someth—”

“Cass,” he cut across me, seeming to lose patience. “Look, I really appreciate what you did for me yesterday. Honestly, you saved my ass, but if I could just get the ah… thing back, you can go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine.”

Was he kidding?

“No. Absolutely not. You,” I said, poking him in the chest, that deceptively solid chest, “you are going to tell me what is going on here.”

He returned my gaze with that same inanely mild expression that suggested I was imagining things.

“I told you, thanks for helping out yesterday. I was holding on to it for a friend, but I really will need to get it back. To return it to him.”

I looked at him mutinously. He was actually going to keep up this act, this fraud, this fake—

Well, too late. The genie was out of the bottle, the cookie jar was open, the milk was well and truly spilt. But if he wouldn’t level with me, what was I actually accusing him of? Hey buddy, you’re actually a lot hotter than you let on. Or no, maybe the thing I should ask is why, after knowing him for years as a background figure, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe around him? Or rather, that it was only when he was near that the air had any oxygen in it at all, oxygen that pulsed through my body, making me feel more alive than I had ever been.