The Girl Who Dared to Think (The Girl Who Dared #1)

I stayed away from home for as long as possible, taking time to net Zoe just to tell her that I was okay—I didn’t want to say anything more yet. The walk back to my room was a silent affair. My number, which had since dropped even further to a three, drew stares, and people muttered as I passed. Strangely, I felt more at home this way. At least it was honest. At least it was me being judged.

I stopped outside the door leading to my quarters, knowing my mother was waiting inside, and took a deep breath. Under no circumstances could I let her see the new number—not before I got a chance to try Grey’s medication. If she did, she’d haul me off to the Medica and Dr. Bordeaux, and they’d probably make me take the pills in front of them.

Pressing my ear to the door, I waited until I was certain she wasn’t in a front room, and then slid the door open and closed. The only movement between the two actions was me stepping quickly through.

“Liana?” I heard my mom’s voice call from her bedroom as I moved down the hall.

“Hey, Mom!” I shouted as I made it to my door. “I’m not feeling well, and I’m going to go to bed early. See you tomorrow!”

“Okay. Feel better, honey.”

I slid my door closed and engaged the magnetic locks, exhaling slowly and closing my eyes, trying to press away the panic that had formed in the short distance between the door and my room. She’d bought it, and she didn’t know. I was safe… for now.

I moved to my window and sat down on the sill to stare at the bottle of pills in my hand. I shook one out and pulled the other from my pocket, and compared the two. They looked identical, but without any markings it was hard to tell. It could be that they were some sort of poison or memory-loss pills, but I didn’t feel like Grey would do that to me.

I pressed one to my tongue and swallowed it dry. Dropping the second one back into the bottle and screwing the top back on, I stared out the window, and idly wondered how long it would take.

My view from my window was one of the better ones, in my opinion. It held the normal loops and swirls and lines of the Citadel, but through it, I could see Hadrian’s bridge—one of the bridges that ran from the Citadel to the shell. It was a calliope of colors, set in a mosaic. The artificial light was starting to go down, turning orange, and the white rails of the bridge glistened and gleamed, while bright blues, greens, and oranges blazed through the dark arches.

A pair of Squires lashed past, playing some sort of game that appeared to have no rules. I leaned forward, watching how they handled their lashes and twisted their bodies, and was moderately impressed. They were fast and accurate, but could improvise. Those were critical skills for lashing.

I shifted, following their progress, but eventually my eyes drifted down to my wrist, the urge too strong to resist.

The pills from the Medica had evidently hit me instantly—I certainly couldn’t remember anything after taking the first set. I could barely remember getting fry-bread before swallowing them. I didn’t know what to expect with this pill, or how long it would hold, but I expected it to work almost instantaneously.

But no—not these, apparently. Not according to the angry red three that still adorned my wrist.

I sighed and got up, moving over to my bed and lying down on it. I kicked off my boots, letting them fall to the floor at the foot of my bed, and undid the front fasteners of my uniform before shrugging the coat off and tossing it to one side. The pants quickly followed, and I climbed under the blankets. I shifted back and forth, trying to get comfortable, and then looked up at the display. The entire ordeal had taken two minutes.

I looked at my wrist. The three glared stubbornly back.

I sighed. Again.

Lowering my arm, I stared up at the dark ceiling and began to feel doubt. Maybe Grey had given me a placebo. Maybe I was immune to them. Maybe he’d tricked me. Maybe I needed to take another.

Over and over my thoughts tumbled while I lay in bed, keeping my mind active even when I closed my eyes. I tried to doze—to make my mind go quiet enough to sleep—but it didn’t work. It couldn’t be stopped.

Liana?

I started in surprise, my heart skipping a beat and kicking the air out of my lungs for good measure. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed the buzz starting at the back of my head. I looked down at the indicator on my wrist, and sure enough, Alex’s name was displayed on it.

“Alex, do you have to override my indicator every time you call? How do you know I’m not in the middle of something?”

A moment of silence, then a hum.

Please, you’re never in the middle of anything, he teased. And I have to override your indicator so you won’t ignore me! Congratulations on your new number. Impressive progress, for so short a time.

I frowned. “It went back down again,” I groused, rolling over to my side.

Dips aren’t uncommon.

I sighed.

I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner, he continued. Things have been strained up here.

A burst of affection came over me, and I was suddenly glad he’d called. If this was going to be my last night as me, then I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it than chatting with my brother.

“What’s going on?”

A quiet noise.

I can’t really talk about it, he said.

“Alex,” I chided, softly.

Another pause, and I could almost see him. I missed his mannerisms; as irritating as they had been, I could almost imagine him doing them all in the space of the silence. Gnawing his lower lip. Scrunching up his nose to hold his glasses tighter. Combing his fingers through the front of his hair.

You can’t tell anyone.

“Of course.”

I’m serious, Liana.

I looked at the pills on the table. I wasn’t about to rat Grey out, and I barely knew him. Alex was my twin. Not to mention, if he was even willing to bring it up, it meant he needed to talk about it. Better me than someone who would turn him in.

“I swear I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

I heard a noise and smiled when I realized that Alex was drumming his fingers on his desk.

It’s Scipio, he said.

That got my attention. Alex had transferred to the Eyes specifically because he wanted to work with Scipio. The great machine had always fascinated my brother, drawn him in like sweets would any other child.

“What’s wrong with Scipio?” I asked—cautiously, though my mind was ablaze. Of course something was wrong with Scipio—what else could explain people like Grey and I trying and trying and trying but never going anywhere but down? Of course, if Alex was just figuring this out now, we needed to have a long talk about his observational skills.

I don’t know what’s wrong. Not exactly, anyway, he said. I think… I think Scipio’s losing it a little.

A chill ran down my spine at the edge of anxiety in his voice. “Losing it?”

He’s getting more extreme, Alex said, and his words were quieter now, as if he was speaking in a jumbled whisper. More violent. He’s using the Knights more viciously, and punishing low numbers more aggressively.

I swallowed, thinking about Roark and his claims. “Punishing them how?”

Alex began to talk, then cut off. I heard a set of footsteps moving by.

People have died, Lily, he said.