Pike sank to his knees and turned his back to Keira like she was an unanswered prayer; like she was his own personal Judas. He bent low in front of the Tribunal.
“She told me she could,” he gasped. “I don’t know. Oh, I can hear how it would sound. I remember notes and notes and then we laughed.”
The Tribunal members exchanged looks.
“Stand up and stop this raving,” one of the Reformers ordered. “We will deal with you later.”
Pike struggled back to his feet, next to Walker.
“Please,” Keira called. “I know I can do this. If I could try again—the piano sounds strange here and I—”
“Silence!” It was not so much a word as a roar. “You have failed,” the Tribunal member said. “We have judged it to be so, and our judgment is law.”
Keira sank back against the piano, as though she could disappear into the cracks between the keys. Her elbows stuck the keyboard, sending a discordant jangle through the room.
The Tribunal bent their heads together, their whispers scratching through the air. Keira looked at Walker. He stared at her as though he was trying to see every detail of her, one last time. Her hope shrank to a sliver and finally to a pinprick before it died altogether.
A Tribunal member motioned to the nearest guard, who hurried over and then left the room with purpose. Keira watched him go. Fear narrowed her throat as the door slammed shut behind him.
The Tribunal member who sat closest to Walker and Pike stood. “This is our pronouncement. Pike Sendson, as punishment for your failings, you are to witness the end of your experiment. You will live to see the last two Experimentals die, and then you will spend the rest of your lifetime imprisoned in the Darkside penitentiary, contemplating your failures.”
Keira cried out as Walker doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach.
The smallest Reformer raised her hand. “We are not without mercy,” she rasped. “There is an obvious affection between the two Experimentals, which has been the cause of at least some of these transgressions. They will be allowed to say their good-byes.” She turned her head toward Walker. “I suggest you get on with it. The extermination room is already being prepared.”
If she hadn’t already been sitting down, Keira would have fallen. She couldn’t see anything except the symphony of starbursts that danced across her vision. But what did it matter if she couldn’t see? The verdict had sliced her future off at the neck. There was nothing ahead of her anymore.
Walker knelt in front of her, and her vision cleared as his hands cupped her face.
“Keira.” His voice broke when he said her name.
A sob worked its way through her chest. Nothing had ever hurt her like this. It was beyond pain. Beyond imagining.
“Walker,” she whispered back, trying to be strong enough to say good-bye.
He smiled at her, but tears slipped down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I promised to keep you safe from all this.” His head dropped toward his chest.
She reached out and caught his chin. “You’re the one who always called me stubborn, right? I made my own decisions. You can’t save me from myself.” Her voice shook.
The tears glistened on his cheeks. “You’re not mad?”
Keira half laughed. “I’m furious. But not with you. You’re—” The lump in her throat grew, trapping the words that rose behind it. She swallowed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I love you.” Her voice shone with strength as she said it. “That doesn’t seem like nearly enough. You gave up everything to try to save me. Everything. But—”
“Shhhh.” Walker rose from his knees. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead against hers. She felt his curls tangle in her hair the same way they had that first day, when they’d cracked heads in the music store. The memory had too many sharp edges. Keira shoved it away, unable to carry any more pain.
Walker pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. “Giving up everything for you is better than having everything but you. I love you too. I have since the very beginning. Why else would I have done all of this?” He tried to smile and failed.
Keira tightened her grip on him.
“Is there anything I can do?” she whispered.
Walker nodded, slow and sad. “Play,” he said. “Play for me, one last time. I want you to do the thing you love most—I want one more memory of you at the piano.”
Keira sobbed. She couldn’t think of a single piece of music she’d ever studied. Not a single trill, not a solitary chord. The finality of the moment had stripped it all away.
“I’m not sure if I can,” she said.
“Play something you composed,” he said. “Play something that’s just for me. Just for us.”