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

Silvan looked around the room, considering the question, and then shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. On the one hand, of course you don’t want to have to take the Medica’s fix. The people who take it are... distant and cold. But on the other hand... if there is a deficiency within me, I have to do something to fix it. I don’t want to be a burden. I want to serve.”

The poor, brainwashed man. Of course he blamed himself—I had too, more often than not, during my descent. He didn’t want Medica treatment, not really. But he didn’t think there were other options.

I opened my mouth to tell him about the pill, but was forestalled by Grey. “I understand your drive,” he said. “And it seems your loyalty to the Tower is still strong, despite all of your troubles. Is that a correct assessment?”

Silvan’s head whipped up and down so aggressively that I thought it might come flying off. I frowned at Grey. That question was loaded, especially to someone with the rank of three. They wouldn’t deny that assessment, because if they did they’d be admitting their own dissidence against the system. And I was a Knight; no way he was going to admit that he didn’t agree in front of me. Unless we explained who we were and what we had to offer.

“The Tower has rarely had a more loyal servant,” Silvan reassured us amicably, his hands shaking. Behind him in the open kitchen, the kettle began to whistle softly, steam burbling up through the top and fogging the glass side of a pipe that ran across the ceiling.

“I can see that,” Grey said. “So you are completely resigned to Medica treatment?”

A pause, followed by a nod. “I will keep my appointment,” he said. “I will be better. I promise.”

The direction the conversation had taken left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Grey wasn’t telling this man he had another option. Instead, he was treating him like a sycophant. That was wrong, though—he needed to tell him what was going on.

“What if there were another way?” I asked.

“Liana,” Grey said in a hushed voice, placing a hand on my shoulder in warning. But I shrugged it off, angry that he wouldn’t even discuss the option. I understood that the man was saying all the wrong things, but I was certain he was saying them for all the right reasons. He was trying to protect himself.

I looked at Silvan, taking in the shadows under his eyes and the fear within them. He didn’t want this. Who could ever want Medica treatment?

“You don’t need to go to the Medica,” I told him.

Silvan stiffened. His mouth locked shut, his eyes flashing. I moved forward to place my hand over his, the words flowing freely from my mouth now.

“Liana!” Grey said again, trying to stop me. “I’m sorry, sir; she’s speaking out of turn. She doesn’t—”

“There is a pill,” I cut in, ignoring Grey and getting Silvan’s eyes back on me. “It is called Paragon. It can change your number without touching your mind. It allows you to continue being yourself.”

He stared up at me, his eyes confused and uncomprehending. “Are you trying to trick me?” he asked.

I wasn’t surprised by his questions. If it were me in his shoes, I would ask the same thing, or something along those lines. Then again, I had to dig to find out. Here we were, offering him an option that seemed highly suspicious. I didn’t blame him for not immediately jumping at it.

“I understand why you would think so, but no. We’re not trying to trick you; we’re trying to help you.”

“I’m confused,” Silvan said after a few seconds of contemplation. “Who are you, and why are you here? Are you with the Medica? Is this a new line of medication that they are testing out?”

“It is,” Grey said smoothly, moving to stand up. “But I’m sorry; you don’t qualify for it.”

I gave him a sharp look, and his answering one was thunderous—enough to give me pause. Biting my lower lip, I started to get up as well, but Silvan’s question brought me up short.

“Why not?”

I looked at Grey and saw him frozen, alarm radiating from his features. “I...”

Silvan craned his head up so he could look at Grey from his seated position. “As I said, I’m loyal to the Tower. Shouldn’t the Medica wish to give a devoted Diver the chance to improve?” His eyes shifted over to me, burning with intelligence. “Or is it illegal? Is that how you got your nines?”

A moment’s hesitation held me in place, but once I realized it was too late to backpedal, I nodded. Grey, looking uncomfortable, glanced at me.

On the stove, the kettle had begun to boil in earnest, the soft whistle from earlier now a howling shriek that reverberated around the little room. Silvan stood automatically, brushing past me on his way to the kitchen, and grabbed the kettle to move it. The screaming died to a burbling hiccup.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” I said. “I was just like you. I fell to a three and sought Medica treatment... but it was awful. I couldn’t remember anything from when I was on the drugs. Any sense of myself was gone. But with Paragon, I can be me. I don’t have to change in order to please the Tower. And we’d like for you to—”

With a feral howl, Silvan spun, the kettle coming around in a crushing blow toward my head. The motion came so fast that for a second I sat frozen, watching the container filled with boiling water arcing toward me. I was just starting to move, already knowing it was too late, when Grey darted over me, his hand pushing me even farther to the side as he flowed past me to take my place as target.

There was a loud noise as the kettle connected with the flesh of his forearm, a soft, sizzling sound, then a gasp of pain. I could smell something burning as Grey brought a fist around and jabbed Silvan in the side, under the ribs. Silvan wheezed as the air was forced from his lungs by the force of the blow, and Grey used his other arm to sweep the kettle out of his hand, sending it flying into the cushions. Silvan staggered back and then lunged at Grey, his hands coming up and together, fingers outstretched as if to throttle him, and I finally got my feet under me.

I threw myself at him, using my legs to push off, and caught him around the waist in a full tackle. We both went down, my shoulder radiating pain as I bounced off him and onto the floor. I rolled onto my side, gasping at the pain, and suddenly fingers were grabbing my hair, gripping me painfully. I reached up with my hands, trying to pry Silvan’s fingers out of my hair, but he jerked my head up and slammed it down on the ground, so hard that my vision grayed out as pain exploded from the back of my skull.

“You’re dissidents!” he screamed. “You threaten the safety and well-being of the Tower!”

He slammed my head down again, and the pain grew even worse. My thoughts were sluggish and disjointed, and I couldn’t remember how my hands worked so I could stop him. My head was jerked up again, but then I felt some of my hair tear free as the hold on me was viciously jerked away.

I blacked out for a second, and came to with my hands on my head, trying to contain the agonizing pain radiating from the impact site. I looked up to see Grey’s fist flashing up and back down, connecting with Silvan’s face. Once, twice, a third... It was too much, but Grey didn’t show any sign of stopping.