“I knew that my playing had somehow closed the barrier between the two worlds once before, in my living room, but I didn’t know how I’d done it. Right after that, Walker and I found a message from Dr. Sendson scratched into the bottom of my piano. That’s why we went to find him. We thought maybe he would know how my musical ability was supposed to work—how it was supposed to help Darkside. Before we could talk, though, the guards came.” The anger crept back into her voice.
“Then the guards knocked us all out and brought us here. There was no time for me to figure it out, much less try to keep it from you.”
Walker squeezed her hand with a quick warning pulse. Stopping her before she antagonized the Tribunal into killing her anyway.
“And now you know?” the female Reformer asked.
“I think so, yes,” Keira said. “Both times that the rips in Darkside were mended, I was playing music that I’d composed.”
For the first time, the murmur that went through the Tribunal sounded pleased instead of angry.
“But that wasn’t all,” she pushed on. “It was Walker, too.”
Heat washed over her and she knew she was blushing fiercely. She hated having to reveal something that felt so personal—so intimate—but she didn’t have a choice. “When he kissed me, that’s when we fixed Darkside. Both times.”
The Tribunal shifted restlessly.
“So, you see,” Keira said, her voice ringing with truth, “you can’t kill either of us. We can fix the Hall of Records—make it stable again. You’ll have all of your information back. But I can’t do it alone. It has to be the two of us together. Me and Walker.”
Pike sank to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked back and forth, giggling like a madman. But at least he looked happy. Keira hoped he understood what was happening.
The central member of the Tribunal held up a long finger. “Stay where you are. We must return to our chambers to discuss this highly unusual development. Guards?”
The guards stepped forward in unison, tightening the circle around them. The one closest to Pike recoiled slightly as Pike let out a fresh wave of laughter.
The Tribunal swept out of the room.
The moments passed slowly while the Tribunal deliberated. The seconds seemed to hang suspended, clinging to Keira like drops of dew on spring grass. She burrowed into Walker’s arms and he tucked the top of her head beneath his chin, his hand tracing the curve of her neck.
She couldn’t lose this. She couldn’t lose him. Not now.
There was no guarantee that the Tribunal would let them go, but at least there was room for hope now. Keira shifted so that she could see the spot in the far corner, where the rip had been. She let the ocean drift into view around it, staring at the place where the wound had been. The freshly healed bit of Darkside was as tight and shiny as a new scar.
Keira shivered as she looked at it. There was something unsettling about not being able to see through that part of Darkside anymore.
“Cold?” Walker asked, tightening his arms around her.
Keira shook her head against his chest. Part of his shirt flaked away beneath the press of her cheek.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” She tried to put a little space between them, but Walker pulled her tight against him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. His voice bounced with playfulness, and Keira knew he was hopeful too.
“I didn’t want to accidentally undress you in front of a roomful of people,” Keira offered.
“Hmmm . . . ,” he answered, distracted.
She turned to see what he was looking at.
It was the door to the Tribunal’s chambers. Someone had opened it.
“They’re coming back in,” Walker whispered.
Keira slipped out of his arms and stood next to him, watching the doorway. Everything hinged on the conclusion the Tribunal had reached.
Everything.
Walker reached out and caught her hand. Their fingers twined together like tree roots, keeping both of them from flying apart.
The Tribunal shuffled into the room at an ancient pace. Each step sent a fresh jolt of anticipation through Keira, which built like static electricity. By the time the Reformers had arranged themselves in front of the bench, the air itself crackled with anxiety.
“Stand,” the guard closest to the bench commanded.
Keira and Walker were already on their feet. It was only Pike who remained on the floor, huddled up in a ball. His mouth moved aimlessly, like he’d run out of words but had forgotten to stop talking. In spite of the order, Pike made no move to rise. The guard closest to him stepped forward and prodded Pike with the end of the staff he carried.
Pike yelped and shot forward along the floor.
Keira started. She’d assumed the staffs were only used for hitting and smashing. But from Pike’s grimace and the jerky way he got to his feet, Keira suspected she’d been wrong in her guess.
Very wrong.
Keira resisted the urge to look behind her, to see exactly how close the other guards—and their staffs—were.
The Tribunal sat down. They folded their hands.
Every inch of Keira dreaded their verdict but at the same time, she was desperate to hear it.
The centermost Tribunal member raised his hand, his palm facing the room, his unnaturally long fingers stretching above it.