The Sun Dwellers

“Pretty much,” Tristan says.

“And your father wanted to maintain the status quo, too?” I ask, already knowing he’ll answer in the affirmative.

Tristan nods. “He knows telling the people will just encourage them to rebel. They’ll demand to go above, to see what they’ve been deprived of their entire lives.”

“Then we have to tell them,” I say firmly, clasping my hands together, daring him to contradict me.

“I agree,” Tristan says.

Roc, who’s been relatively quiet for a while, says, “Tell them about your mom, Tristan.”

Tristan’s eyes immediately go glassy. He closes his eyes, opens them when he starts speaking. “My father took us on a tour through the New City, told us the whole story along the way, bit by unbelievable bit. He didn’t hold anything back, probably because he didn’t realize how negatively my mom and I would take it. I’m not making excuses for Killen, but he was younger, more in awe of what my father had accomplished than anything else.

“Well, my mother just took it all in, not visibly reacting, just listening to every word, capturing every sight with her eyes. I took my cues from her, staying mostly silent and trying not to miss anything. When the tour finished, and it was time to go back into the pod and down to the Sun Realm, my mother refused. She said she wasn’t done taking mental notes so she could accurately share what she’d seen with the world.”

“She was a strong woman,” I say, immediately thinking of the risks and sacrifices my own mother has made.

“She was. But not strong enough. My father was livid. What he did to her on the way up in the pod was nothing to what he did now. He punched her in the face, breaking her nose and blackening her eye. When she fell to her knees, he kicked her in the ribs repeatedly, until she collapsed from pain and exhaustion. I tried to stop it, but he was stronger than ten men, such was the intensity of his rage, and he threw me across the room like a jewelry box. I broke my wrist and couldn’t walk for a week. My mom couldn’t get out of bed for a month.”

“He’s the Devil,” Tawni says, her voice a whisper, almost reverent.

“Not far from it,” Tristan says, his eyes dark and brooding. So much of the pain he’s hidden from me is in this story, it takes me by surprise. Because I’m a moon dweller and he’s a sun dweller, I’ve taken for granted that my life is harder than his, that, if anything, he owes me. In reality, however, neither of us owes each other anything. We’ve both had it bad. We’ve both felt pain and loss. We’ve both lived in a world where nothing felt right.

But something’s still missing.

“What else about your mother?” I ask, knowing this story is far from over.

Before I’m half-finished with the question, Tristan’s nostrils are flaring as he sucks in a breath. “She recovered, of course, eventually. When she did, she came to me. I’ll never forget what she said. ‘Tristan, your father is a bad man,’ she said. ‘We need to tell everyone about what he showed us. We’re in this together—you and me. You understand?’ I did understand and I told her. I promised her I would do whatever I could to tell the world the truth. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Wait for what feels like the right time.’

“Then she got all misty-eyed, hugged me, and said, ‘I might not always be around, Tristan, but know I’m always with you, in here.’ She patted my chest, a tear dripping from her chin. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to protect you the way I should have.’ I was crying, too, and I didn’t know why at the time. I mean, yeah, I loved my mom, but it’s not like she was going anywhere. I didn’t realize until she disappeared three days later that she was saying goodbye.” There’s moisture on Tristan’s face but he either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered by it. My heart wells up for him, a dull ache in my chest that doesn’t sufficiently encompass the emotion of losing a mother. I give him my hand again, which I’ve so selfishly denied him as he’s told the hardest story he’s ever had to tell. When he grasps my fingers I shiver, because his hand is as cold as ice, almost blue.

Sad like him and sad like me.

Chapter Eighteen

Tristan

Adele doesn’t hate me for keeping the truth from her. Or at least she’s decided to support me until a time when I’m not a mess anymore, perhaps for the good of the mission. Even Trevor’s backed off with his smartass remarks, although I suspect it will be a short reprieve.

I know they all have a zillion more questions, at least half of which I won’t be able to answer, but we all seem to realize that they aren’t really important right now, not when we have a president to kill. So we leave the tu

Although my heart is heavy because of the dark truths, both about my father and about my mom, that I’ve dropped like a dead weight on my friends, my mind is lightened, like a ball and a chain (and maybe a wall or two) have been removed from my skull, opening my mind to a whole new world, one without secrets and lies and inequality. We’re not there yet, but I feel like we’re making progress, without even having accomplished anything yet.

I sense a renewed determination in all of us. Perhaps it was just resting for a few minutes, or the group understanding that we all now have. Or maybe it’s just because we’re all sick and tired of being held under the foot of a tyrant. Whatever the case, we all want the same thing, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get there.

When we enter the capital, subchapter one of the Sun Realm, a place I called home for most of my life, a strange thrill zips through the very marrow of my bones. If nothing else, the city is beautiful, a notch or two above even the finest sun dweller cities. The simulated sunset is nearly complete, and the artificial sun is glowing red, a fiery ball above the buildings and parks. The automatic streetlights are blinking on, one by one, preventing any semblance of gloom from ever infiltrating my father’s kingdom.

Without talking about it, we stop as a unit to watch the red sun darken, until, a few minutes later, it goes dark completely, disappearing on the roof of the cavern. Instantly, the rocky firmament springs back to life, as hundreds of blinking stars and a glowing moon appear, casting nighttime light across the subchapter.

I glance at Adele, whose head is craned toward the ceiling, her green eyes sparkling like emeralds under the shine of the artificial stars. Her lips are parted slightly, an air of wonder in her expression, her skin porcelain, her hair a silk curtain. She’s looking at a beautiful sight and I’m looking at her—another beautiful sight.

“It’s wonderful,” she says softly and almost mournfully, which surprises me until her next words. “But I bet it’s nothing compared to the real moon and stars.”

As I cock my head to gaze at the artificial moon I grew up with, I realize that in that simple statement is an important truth: no matter what we try to recreate down here, none of it will ever be as good as what’s up there, on Earth. And that’s crucial to understanding the magnitude of the responsibility on our shoulders. Not only must we remove my father from his position of power, but we must take the Tri-Realms on a journey, both in their way of thinking and also in where they live, to give them back their humanity. This is our solemn duty.

“Am I right?” Adele says, turning her head toward me.

“About what?” I ask, not remembering her having asked me a question.

“About the moon. The real one is better, right?”

“Oh. That. I honestly don’t know. When we left it was still su

“I want to see it,” she says. “Tawni and I are moon dwellers and we’ve never even seen the moon. It’s weird.” This is a side to Adele I’ve never really seen. She’s almost reflective, the way she’s looking at me with those intelligent eyes, like there’s a poem on her lips and a song in her heart. It’s another part of her I want to understand better.