Page 128 of The Art of Exiley

“Kor, we’ll find a way to—”

“My health isn’t what’s important. I’m just one person. Operation Genesis’s success is what’s important now. If all goes to plan, we’ll arrive undetected and go straight for the scrolls.”

Kor climbs through the window and jumps to the floor, then reaches up to help me through.

“The scrolls are in a very public place. It’s a school. There are teachers and children—” I say as I shimmy down. The guest room is dark and crowded and smells of mothballs.

“We’ll be cautious to avoid casualties. But this is too important. Too many years of history have been waiting for this moment.” He turns and makes his way through the obstacles in the room and out into the hall.

Casualties.As I follow Kor down the grand staircase, I feel sick with dread. Who might those casualties be? Simon, on guard at the Ark stairs? Xander at the desk—only a few weeks from giving birth? A bookish Sophist master in the library at the wrong time, sure to get involved because he’s too selfless for his own good?

Would Kor harm them for the sake of his mission? This can’t be the way. These can’t be the right hands to heal the world.

I think of my middle name, Isabella, named for Queen Isabella of Castile. She is still a revered figure in history; there are monuments of her all over the globe. It’s a common name in the Families—who all have a historical connection to her rule—and it always surprised me just how much my Jewish father despised it, how he spit at the statue of Isabella when we passed it in DC. Why had I ever been surprised by that? Her goal of a unified Spain cost tens of thousands of lives and hundreds of thousands of exiles.

The Families claim to have moved beyond their gruesome origin, but how can they not feel the echoes of the past in these choices?

At the bottom of the stairs, I grab Kor’s hand. “I should be part of this. You won’t be able to navigate the island without me.”

“Our new Genesis informant will help us with that.”

“Who is this new spy?” I’ve asked Kor this question numerous times, but he won’t tell me. Even with me no longer leaking information, between Prometheus and this new informant, if I can’t intervene, the Maker world is truly in danger.

“Ada, I told you I’d tell you everything when the time is right.” He kisses my hand and then pulls away, making for the door.

None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me. It’s all my fault. But I can’t stop it without knowing more details.

There’s only one person I can think of who may be willing and able to help me learn more.

38

Once Kor is gone, I rush up to my room. I try a few internet searches and browse multiple social media sites, but it’s all useless. I don’t know how to locate a random person on the internet who doesn’t want to be found.

But Georgie can. I email her asking her to call me when she’s available.

As I wait for her response, I take out my pastels and add some shadows to a portrait of Grandfather that I’ve been working on. I try not to think about how many creative pursuits I took part in on a given day at Genesis compared to the past few weeks of almost nothing. But this picture is good. Grandfather has been sitting for me in the sunroom every morning when the lighting is just right.

I bawled my eyes out when I first saw him after I got back, knowing he was going to be okay after so many months of worrying. And he really does look okay. Much more energetic and vibrant than the last time I saw him. We did some gardening in the backyard together earlier today, and he had no problem with the more strenuous pulling and digging. And yesterday, both he and Sal came down to breakfast with wet hair. Like maybe they’d both been showering. At the same time. She has been living with him in this house for a long time, so anything’s possible….

I’d questioned Grandfather about his surgeries, and he’d only insisted that I have nothing to worry about.

“It may be the nature of bodies to degrade, but I’ve spent my life as a scientist learning that we can reverse nature, that we canimproveupon it. I can honestly say that I’ve never been better. And I promise you, mi reinita, that I’ll be around for a long time yet.”

It’s not like Grandfather to make promises he can’t keep, but this is something that is out of his control. Certainly out of mine.

Right now everything feels out of my control.

I abandon my pastels to check if Georgie’s gotten back to me yet. I mean, I know there’s no way she has, but it’s hard for me to think about anything else. I refresh my screen just in case. Then again.

I pick up a pastel to keep working, but then change my mind and drop it. I can’t help but think that while I sit here enhancing smile lines, Kor is about to invade Arcadia, and I’m doing nothing about it.

Instead I pace. And then pace some more.

Eventually I flop onto my bed and pick up my father’s music box from the bedside table. Dad’s another person I haven’t had any luck reaching. I’ve been trying to call him every single day, but nothing so far. I twist the key, and it begins to play the familiar song. “Yosef HaLevi’s Nocturne.” The very same one Rafe had assured me I could never have heard in the provincial world. The notes immediately calm me. I take deep breaths and just try to clear my head. When the song ends, I twist the key to play it again and close my eyes.

A ping from my laptop wakes me. I blink a few times, then jump up when I see light streaming through my window. It’s past 7:00 a.m., and I have the horrible jabby feeling of having slept a whole night in a bra.

My laptop pings again.

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