larger than any I’ve seen, going deeper.
“My people...my heart. For justice to serve one and all equally, always and forever, there can never be an exception to the law.” His voice is thunder, and every word causes every cell in my body to burn. “If a crime is committed, a crime must be punished.” The Secondking’s voice booms, sweeping over the crowd, strong and sure. “For every word, every action, there is a choice. Right and wrong. Life and death. Blessing and cursing. I made my choice long ago—to keep the law intact. Who among you has transgressed?”
The crowd parts in rows of four. One by one, men and women move to the bottom of the dais. I scan...there! Archer has taken his place among those at the dais, and it’s then I realize the ones being punished are the ones wearing red. Their heads are bowed, their hands clasped behind their backs.
I count the red robes—thirty-three in total—and my stomach gives another twist.
Thirty-three, the numerical equivalent of the word “amen.” 1+13+5+14=33. A normal human spine has thirty-three vertebrae when the bones that form the coccyx are counted individually. The atomic number of arsenic.
A moment passes. Nothing happens, and no one speaks.
Then, one by one, the people in red robes begin to drop to their knees. A few cry out in pain. Others tremble. All keep their heads bowed.
“What’s happening?” I ask in a whisper.
“They are experiencing the pain the one they harmed experienced.”
The Exchange. I suddenly have the answer I’d so badly wanted. Archer is experiencing Clay’s death. In his mind, he is hanging from a tree trunk, snow hitting him in the face. He is waiting for me...he is falling...he is bursting inside like a melon.
My chest begins to ache.
“Through this, we learn how our actions affect others,” Deacon says.
I hate the thought of experiencing something like this, of knowing firsthand the pain I caused someone else. But...in a way, the experience is a gift. Knowledge is power. And here...here is where compassion is born.
When it’s over, the ones in red robes stand. The royal family joins them and speaks softly to each one. Hands are clasped. Hugs are given.
The red robes return to the crowd, their heads still bowed. Archer, however, pushes his way to Deacon’s friend and meets the girl’s gaze—meets my gaze. His expression projects torment and sorrow.
This is the first time I’ve seen him without the Shell, and I notice little difference. The tone of his skin is more bronzed. The ends of his hair are like molten gold. His lashes are longer, his jaw a little more square. He really is quite beautiful.
The two clasp hands and suddenly the view changes. I’m looking at the friend rather than Archer. A girl identical to the redhead we met before.
“Thank you,” Archer says.
She rises on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “If you need me, all you have to do is ask.”
The two part ways. Archer takes us back through the garden, his gait fast. Pain must not linger after the Exchange. Not physical pain, anyway. When he clears the other side, a neighborhood comes into view, the houses a hodgepodge of designs; they look as if they belong in different parts of the world. A Southern plantation is next to a Spanish pueblo, which is next to an English cottage.
Waiting in front of the planation is—
“Clay!” I exclaim.
He smiles at Archer, and he looks good. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes sparkling. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that conforms to his biceps, which actually look bigger. Someone’s been working out like a fiend.
“You asked me to be here,” Clay says. “Well, here I am.”
Archer enfolds him in a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I put a feud before your safety, that I wasn’t there to save your life.”
Tears fill my eyes.
Clay pats his shoulder as he draws back. “I told you, man. All’s forgiven.”
A pause, and I think Archer really wants to apologize again. “How’s training coming?”
“I’m learning to inhabit a Shell, and next I’ll learn how to use the weapons. I’ve only been drooling over those Oxies since my arrival.”
Archer pats his shoulder. “Light Brings Sight, my friend.”
Clay grins. “Light Brings Sight.”
The two part ways, and a weight lifts from my shoulders.
Clay is happy. He’s got a bright future ahead of him.
Archer makes a beeline for the plantation, passing towering pillars...a massive set of doors, already open. The interior is a dream come true. Wainscoting and detailed frieze molding. Vibrant