Page 125 of The Art of Exiley

Prince Alexander eyes me skeptically as I speak. But Rafe corroborates my story, and in their minds, he has no reason to lie.

“Okay, let’s go,” Prince Alex says. “We’ll escort you back to Genesis.”

They all begin to move toward the exit, but I stay put.

“I… I’m not going to go back with you,” I say.

Now that I know what my family’s been up to, it’s clear to me that Genesis is not where I need to be. I need to be at home, convincing Kor and the others that there’s a better way to accomplish our goal. Mom may think I’ll be safer at Genesis, but I’m done being anyone’s pawn, and since all of this began, that’s all I’ve been. It’s time to start doing whatIthink is right.

“Being here reminds me of how much I miss my home, my family.” It kills something inside me to say it, to pretend that anything about this world speaks to me more than Genesis. Rafe and Michael look completely dumbstruck, but Prince Alex doesn’t look particularly surprised. “I just came this morning to say goodbye.”

Rafe glares at me, then storms out of the hotel without a word.

Hypatia gives me a long hug and insists I send her pigeons, and then she and Alex follow after Rafe.

Michael hangs back. “Are you sure this is what you want?” His warm brown eyes search mine.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’m sure. I’ll be in touch with Georgie to arrange getting the rest of my stuff.” I look down at my hands, something inside me fracturing.

He steps closer. “You can change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

I hadn’t expected to say anything more, but it’s Michael, and I’m upset and need to hear his reassurance.

I look up and say, “I… learned about blood doping.”

His expression turns stormy. “It sickens me,” Michael says, “that anyone could indiscriminately steal blood. Especially when our people have been libeled over false blood theft.”

Our people. He’s not talking about the Makers. He’s identifying with me as something other than a Maker. As a fellow Jew. I’ve heard of the blood libels. Lies about Jewish people stealing children’s blood told to rationalize generations of atrocities committed against us.

“Both sides of my family have experienced hatred for being Jewish at different times in different countries,” Michael says. “Joining the Makers was a haven for them from hate and religious discrimination. The idea that the antisemitic tales of vampires could have been given any credence by the actions of Makers turns my stomach. I can’t believe the practice is still allowed at Avant. But if that’s why you’re leaving—”

“It’s not. I just needed to know how you felt about it.”

“Ada… please…” He grabs my hand, and there’s a desperation to his voice that I can’t afford to interpret. There’s too much at stake for me to be swayed by feelings that once I acknowledge, I won’t be able to ignore.

I refuse to look up; there’s a lump in my throat. “Goodbye, Michael. Thank you for everything.”

I pull my hand free and leave the hotel without looking back.

As I make my way through the streets, I let the sounds and smells of the city whip past me. Tears are torn from my eyes by the wind as I give myself the journey home to mourn my choice. But once I get there, there can be no more doubt. No more tears.

I gave the Families a lot of sensitive information. And now Genesis is at risk. Because of me.

I have to fix it.

37

“Do you like it?” Kor asks me. Referring to the new song he just played, which he wrote for me as my eighteenth birthday present. If I didn’t know him so well, his ongoing attempts to win me back into his good graces would have me charmed into a quivering puddle of hormones.

Of course I like the song. It’s gorgeous, poignant, maybe the best thing he’s ever written. But it’s hard to care anymore.

I smile stiffly, and Kor shifts closer while he lazily strums “Happy Birthday,” and I try to find stars in the cloudy city sky.

We’re on the roof of Grandfather’s house, a small, flat spot that can be reached through a window in one of the rarely used guest rooms. Both Kor and I have been so busy—and maybe I’ve also been avoiding him a little—so we haven’t had much opportunity for alone time, but tonight he came over for my birthday dinner, and afterward we migrated up here with a six-pack and a guitar like old times.

But it’s nothing like old times.

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