"You," she whispered.

"You," the girl who was the Wild Poppy replied, "are not a soldier at all. I knew it. I knew there was something off about you."

"You don't know anything," Trina spat at her. "Especially not how much trouble you're about to be in."

"Oh?" said the princess. "And why is that?"

And then she released her most powerful weapon of all. "Because I'm not Trina Delmar. My name is Remy Helo, granddaughter of Darwin and Persistence Helo, and I'm no traitor to Galatea."

She expected shock, and she got it. She expected disbelief, and she got some of that, too, especially from the princess. But she didn't expect the bark of laughter that the blue-haired one let out.

"She's lying," said the princess. "Remy Helo is a schoolgirl."

"We were schoolgirls a few months ago," said the Wild Poppy. She peered out from beneath her hood, her amber eyes keen and penetrating. "She may be Remy. I see a family resemblance. And of course, we could always do a quick genetest."

"Family resemblance?" Remy asked, confused.

"Silence." The princess raised her hand. "Speak only when you are ordered to, prisoner."

The Wild Poppy gave the princess a look. "a.s.suming this story is true, and I'm inclined to believe it, do you think that behavior is going to get you anywhere?"

The princess sighed. "At least this makes the entire operation simpler."

"Does that mean I'm off the hook?" the Poppy said. "I mean, technically, I already fetched her."

"If you mean the public relations aspect, no," replied the princess. "The romance will still be useful."

What were they talking about? They were supposed to fall all over themselves to apologize. She was a Helo. "Pardon me, Princess, but I must insist upon my immediate release. I am the foster daughter of Citizen Aldred, the Protector of the interim government ofa""

The princess waved her hand at her. "Oh, we know who you are, brat. We just wish you truly were Trina Delmar. She was useful to us, and you are an inconvenience."

"One thing is certain," the blue-haired handmaiden said. "We shall not be returning her to Citizen Aldred."

"Oh no?" Remy scoffed. "You think he'll let a Helo remain in your aristocratic hands?"

This seemed to amuse all three young women.

"Here's a question," said the Wild Poppy. "Does anyone in your family know you're here?"

Remy hadn't thought of that. How was Uncle Damos supposed to fight for her return if he didn't know she was imprisoned?

The princess c.o.c.ked her head at Remy. "Maybe I should use those neuroeels."

This time, however, the threat held no weight at all.

"Why did you take a false name and join the army?" the Wild Poppy asked her.

"None of your business." The only good to come out of this mess was that with Lacan and his family spirited away to Albion, there was a chance Uncle Damos would never discover her brother's betrayal. If the prisoners on the Lacan estate were no longer in custody, no one would ever find out that their pinks hadn't worked properly.

As far as she knew, Justen hadn't sabotaged anyone else's drugs.

"Bet I can guess."

Remy was quite sure the smug aristo spy could not.

"You had plenty of political power as one of Aldred's inner circle. You had no need to take a false name unless whatever it is you wanted to learn was something you figured your foster father would disapprove of. Am I correct?"

Remy swallowed.

"And there you were at the Lacan estate, of all places in Galatea, watching over the aristo who might have been your grandmother's greatest ally. Watching him suffer, watching him bleed. Watching his children and his grandchildren tortured a and why?"

Remy could barely meet the older girl's gaze. Her eyes watered with shameful tears.

"So here's what I think. You hated what they were doing to the aristos on the Lacan estate," the Wild Poppy said to her, rising and coming forward. Her hood fell back, revealing hair the color of frangipani and eyes as bright as the scales on that long-dead sea pony. "You don't want to admit it, but deep down, you know your guardian is no longer interested in helping Galateans. He just wants to punish his enemies."

Enemies like Lacan. Enemies like Justen would be if Uncle Damos found out what he'd done.a "The revolution has betrayed you, has betrayed your whole nation. You are not a traitor, it's true. But your loyalty lies not to the leaders destroying your country but to its citizensa"all its citizensa"who have the power to make it great."

Remy found she could muster no response to this enemy of the revolution. It made no sense at all. This womana"this girl, reallya"stood for everything Remy hated. She rescued aristos. She was an aristo herself. She undermined the revolution. How often had Remy heard Vania and the other soldiers complaining about the Wild Poppy?

So why was she saying things Remy agreed with?

The Wild Poppy made a quick motion with her left hand, and Remy's ropes fell loose. If she wanted to flee, now was the time. But her heart thrummed in her chest as the spy's words settled into the s.p.a.ce between them. How did this girl know exactly what had happened to her? She looked only a year or two older than Remy, she was clearly an Albian aristo, and yet it seemed she could see right through to Remy's soul.

All she'd wanted was to save her brother, and this was where she ended up. In the throne room of a monarch, kneeling before a young girl who was the embodiment of the aristocracy Remy had wanted so hard to fight, the embodiment of the spy Remy had tried so hard to be. This girl who was making her question everything. Everything.

All she'd wanted was to help her brother, but now she wanted more. To help the people the revolution had harmed.

The Poppy held out her hand, and Remy saw the flash of her palmport. No wonder she'd been hiding it under her glove when they'd met in Galatea. There was no way folks would fail to recognize her as an aristo with that hardware in her hand.

"Will you join us?"

"Yes," Remy said, though it was more like a sob. "Yes, I'll help you. Tell me what I have to do."

Eleven.

"THAT WENT WELL," PERSIS said as Andrine led the sister of Justen Helo away.

"It went somewhat differently than expected," said Isla, "but at least you got a well-connected spy."

"I mean for your first interrogation," said Persis, smiling at her friend. "You scared her cold." Remy would never have given them her name if she weren't certain they were going to kill her otherwise.

"Do you think?" said Isla. "I was afraid I sounded a bit comical with all my threats. As if I needed a mustache to twirl like some sort of ancient villain."

"Oh no," Persis said. "It was perfect."

"Really?"

"Yes. Don't change a thinga"except maybe a"

"What?"

"The eels."

"Too over-the-top?"

"Not at all. The only thing was, you threatened to kill her where she lay, and then you mentioned eels down in the dungeonsa"it was confusing. To a prisoner. They can't be intimidated if they're busy trying to pa.r.s.e your geography."

Isla waved her hand. "Semantics." She plopped back on a cushion. "My father used to make threats look so easy."

"Kill many people, did he?"

"Oh no, he was a softie." Isla shrugged. "Then again, he didn't rule in the midst of a war where he had to send his best friend to rescue tortured prisoners, so a who knows what he might have done?"

Persis smiled. "Would you really avenge me with neuroeels, Isla?"

"For you, darling, I'd gengineer a neuroshark."

"Aww." Persis pressed a hand to her chest. "That's very sweet."

"Well, you're very special to me, Persis. I hope you realize that." Isla's voice was seriousa"true serious, not the royal serious she'd used on Remy, and Persis's smile slid off her face.

Rescuing the Galatean prisoners was a worthy mission, and Persis bore no illusions that, were she to be caught by the revolutionaries, her punishment would be Reduction or worse, but she'd always figured she was only risking herself and those who'd chosen to join her cause. This was something they were doing to help the people of Galatea. To help Isla, who couldn't manage to convince the Royal Council that war could come no matter how much you tried to pretend it wouldn't, and that helping the Galatean people didn't necessarily mean bringing war to their sh.o.r.es as well.

But Isla's words had cast doubt in her mind. If she was captured by the enemy, what would Isla do? Would the ruler of Albion fight to free her? Might Persis be reason enough for her to defy the Council and jeopardize the very makeup of the government?

"Neurosharks might be overkill," she said at last. "What's the point of their teeth, if their bite contains neurotoxins?"

"True," Isla replied. "Well, I'll leave the details to the gengineers."

Persis wanted to say "Isla, if they catch me, don't you dare do anything rash."

She wanted to say "Isla, I know what I'm doing, so think of our country and not our friendship."

She wanted to say "If I thought this might cause a problem for Albion, I'd stop."

But she didn't. Especially that last one, because the truth was, Persis didn't know if she could. These people were being hurt. Innocents. Children. Aristos and regulars alike. Maybe Isla should force Albion to take a stand against the atrocities happening in the south.

But until she did, the Wild Poppy would do what she could.

Isla saved her by changing the topic. "Do you really think we can trust her?"

"Yes." Remy Helo was a lot like her brother. Persis remembered what Justen had said last night. How pa.s.sionate he'd been about his hopes for his country, for a cure for the Darkened. The propaganda from Galatea said the Helos were model revolutionary citizens, but Aldred had no idea how accurate that was. They were true revolutionaries. They believed in justice for all Galateans, regular and aristo.

"And are you sure we shouldn't keep her here to appease your little boyfriend?"

"Does he even have to be my boyfriend now?" Persis asked. "There's no need to keep Justen's reasons for being here a secret if we have his sister safe." Persis could already visualize the look of joy on Justen's face once he was reunited with his sister. And it would make everything easier on her, too, if she was no longer forced to squire him around and keep her mask on at home.

"Oh, Persis. Don't tell me you aren't enjoying his company just a little bit. Justen is handsome, politically motivated, and the grandson of the savior of New Pacifica." Isla tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Isn't that pretty much your dream boy?"

Persis found it highly aggravating how well the princess regent of Albion knew her. "Yes, but I'm Persis Flake, remember? He can barely tolerate me."

"Give him time. He'll fall prey to your charm, just like everyone else."

Persis shook her head. No, not Justen. He needed something more than she was allowed to show him.

"Fine," Isla said. "Beyond trusting her, do you think Remy can actually help us?"

"Living in the palace with Citizen Aldred?" Persis pointed out. "Definitely. She'll have information about new prisoners before anyone else. And you heard Justen. He thinks his sister is a helpless little girl. He doesn't have the slightest idea what she's been up to."

And maybe that was the most useful thing Remy Helo had to offer. She'd already shown herself to be resourceful beyond her yearsa"hacking the military records to give herself a position in the army. She was a spy long before she ever met the Poppy. And no one in her household seemed to know what she was capable of: not her brother and not the Aldreds, either. The best spies were those everyone underestimated. Persis knew that better than anyone.

"And she's so young," Isla added. "Even if she got caught snooping, how could Aldred risk harming her? A child and a Helo? He'd lose too much support with the Galateans."

Persis wasn't sure about that. She'd seen Reduced childrena"aristos, yes, but still innocentsa"and the Galateans didn't seem to have too much trouble with that. Still, a Helo was another matter.

"She's not so very little," said Persis. "A year younger than Andrine and every bit as brilliant as her brother, it seems."

"Her brother is *brilliant'?" Isla said, raising her eyebrows. "From you, that's high praise indeed. The very highest." She nudged Persis. "Maybe you are enjoying playing the devoted girlfriend!"

She might be, if she wasn't forced to pretend to be someone else. She might not even think of it as playing at all. Persis unclasped her gray robe and dropped it to the cushion behind her, shaking out the candle-flame-yellow skirt of her gown. "It's not just me who thinks so. Noemi has been so pleased to have him at the sanitarium this past week. She's as starry-eyed as everyone else when it comes to the Helos."

Noemi Dorric was the de facto head of the DAR sanitarium nearest Scintillans. She was also the chief medic for the League of the Wild Poppy and the Blake family's privatea"very privatea"nurse. And she'd practically done backflips when she heard Justen was coming and bringing along Persistence Helo's own research.

Isla sighed. "I can't believe he wants to hide away in a sanitarium. It's not exactly the high-profile position I'd prefer for him."

Persis bit her lip, but it did little to lessen the sting of Isla's words. Justen's arguments came back to her then. Maybe they weren't as enlightened as they thought in Albion. Darkening shouldn't be an embarra.s.sment to any family, even an aristo family, so why were they keeping her mother's condition a secret? Why wasn't working in a sanitarium a more honorable, high-profile job? There was an argument to be made that Justen was behaving in the only honorable way a Helo could. Instead of sitting back and enjoying the celebrity Persistence had won for his family, he was devoting his life to fixing the single mistake she left behind. Why didn't Isla get that? Would Persis, too, fail to see its importance if she hadn't been touched by the ravages of DAR?

"Speaking of Noemi, how are her extremely low-profile patients doing?" Isla asked. "Have Lord Lacan's grandchildren recovered?"

Persis shook her head. "Still compromised. Detox drugs don't seem to work quite as rapidly on the younger ones."

Noemi and the other medics had expected the opposite to be true. Young minds were more elastic and so they should bounce back more quickly from their ordeal. But after detoxing so many of the Poppy's rescued refugees, Noemi was developing a new theory on how the drug worked. Now, Noemi guessed the gap was due to the way the Reduction drug the Galateans were using not only blocked neural pathways but also prevented new ones from forming. The older victims recovered more quickly as they regained access to pathways their unhindered brains had long used first, then more-recent neural pathways later. But in young minds, the pathways weren't as familiar, and there were fewer. It took longer for children's minds to remember what they'd once known and to start forming new pathways again.

Isla grimaced and fell into step beside Persis. "That can't be easy for the Lacans to see. When I think of someone doing that to Albiea"Persis, in that case, I would be out for blood. Neuroeels would be too swift a death for Citizen Aldred."

Now there was a sentiment Persis could get behind. "Would you like to come to the clinic and see them? I know it would mean a lot to the Lacans, and you could drop in on your newest medic, too."

The sanitarium was the perfect hiding spot for the recovering Galatean refugees. Since so many of the symptoms suffered by the Reduced were similar to those of the Darkened, the sanitarium already had resources to deal with them. And Persis knew well that Noemi could be trusted to remain discreet. She was one of the few who knew about Persis's mother, one of the even fewer who knew Persis was the Wild Poppy.

Isla made a face. "I have no particular desire to see Justen at work. I'd much rather you spent some time dragging him out in the open. Canoodle a little, my friend. You could start by taking him out and getting him some nicer clothes. Everyone expects you to, anyway."