“Your life is not a game, Ava! How could you take such a childish risk on a night like this?”

I hate when he refers to us like we are still children. And our life is one endless game.

“Do you hold no fear for Governor Roth or his agents? Do I need to remind you what he is capable of?”

No, it’s perfectly clear to me what Roth is capable of: anything. Defiant, I keep my head held high, but I can see Mira’s eyes shift to the floor. Why is she backing down?

“Nothing happened,” I say, because she doesn’t.

He gives me an incredulous look. “Routine has gotten us this far, and it is the only reason you two have survived these eighteen years. You are growing too reckless. The odds are already against us without the both of you messing up our schedule. The moment we get comfortable is when everything we’ve worked so hard to keep will be taken from us. Have you completely forgotten what is at risk—”

“Have you?” Mira cuts Father off. “You dared to speak out against Governor Roth during dinner. Threatening him with our society’s collapse . . . threatening him with riots! Why would you go against the rules you made and take such a risk?”

I look from Father to Mira, taken aback not only by what my sister’s saying, but also by her anger. What the hell happened at dinner?

Father rubs a hand hard over his face and opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but Mira can’t keep her words from pouring out.

“And how long have you known Roth’s intention to marry us to Halton? How does that fit into the plan?”

My mouth drops open.

“What?” I turn to Father, expecting him to deny Mira’s revelation straightaway.

“I was just made aware of his intention to do so tonight. I will deal with it when the time comes,” he says. “As I will deal with the Anniversary Gala. Your face will not be on a skyrise.”

It’s my turn for words. The truth is boiling hot inside of me like lava primed to explode. Feelings I’ve never admitted out loud, much less expressed to my father.

“You will deal with it when the time comes. We must always stick to the plan that you made for us. But it’s our life, Father, and this is all happening right now, not in some far-off future. We aren’t just pieces of some mapped-out strategy.”

I take a step toward him. “We can’t go on forever like this. We aren’t children anymore—something has to change. We agreed to continue at Strake for our medical degree, but we have to be allowed our own apartment in the city next semester.”

“Absolutely not,” Father says. “We cannot afford to make careless decisions. The safest place for you both is here with me.”

“We can’t spend our entire life living in our father’s basement!” Mira shouts.

“That’s enough!” Father yells back, raising a trembling hand for silence.

Mira and I flinch. I’ve never seen Father lose his carefully controlled temper so completely. We stand side by side, shaken and quiet, eyes fixed to the ground. We pushed too far. I quickly glance up and notice lines on my father’s face that weren’t there before.

“It’s getting late,” he says in a gentler tone. He takes a long, deep breath. “You have exactly one hour to finish debriefing each other on your day.” He addresses Mira. “Afterward, you are to go straight upstairs to Ava’s room for the night. I will be checking.”

Later, when Father leaves the basement, he will sit motionless on the living room couch for hours. A hologram of our smiling mother, so realistic and detailed, will float in front of him. He likes the video of her simply walking around our house the best. She’ll wander through the kitchen, giving a tour of our newly built home, before Mira and I were born. She’ll laugh and hold out her hand, eyes playfully saying to him, “I love you.”

But right now Father reaches out to wrap his arms around Mira, then gathers me into the embrace against his chest. He hugs us tight, his palms resting protectively on the tops of our fiery heads.

“We were lucky tonight,” he says.

Mira’s face now forced next to mine, I see something I don’t understand in her eyes. More happened than what she’s revealed to father, but I can’t read what it is.

Our father glances at his watch and pulls away, smoothing out the wrinkles our bodies created on his stately uniform. He turns, lifts his heavy shoulders, and walks, formal and composed, from the basement.

He must miss Mother—with her same blazing-red hair and stubborn green eyes—every time he looks at us.

Mira sits on the piano bench absently playing the melody of the song from choir. I sit close beside her, a frown creasing my brows. “Did you learn a new verse today?” she asks me.

The question is a diversionary tactic. She feels closed off and distant in a way that makes me feel angry and hollow in the pit of my stomach. Secrets never separate us.

I reach over and place my hand on hers, stopping the music. “Tell me what else happened at dinner.” My skin immediately tingles with the curious vibrating sensation, like a field of energy, that sometimes happens when we touch. In these random, fleeting moments, I can physically feel the inexplicable bond between us.

Mira’s eyes lock onto her right wrist. I’ve seen her do this several times recently, and I’m about to ask if her imitation chip is bothering her when she admits all at once, “I shoved Halton in the garden. He stole Mother’s flowers, and I shoved him to the ground.”

I close my eyes, taking in her surprising confession with a sort of numb disbelief. “You laid hands on the governor’s grandson?”

Mira looks up at me for the first time. “I know it’s serious. Halton’s agent aimed his taser at me, Ava.”

I rise from the piano bench, and we both stare at the security screen projecting a picture of our front lawn. Astonishingly, all is well.

Why wouldn’t the agent report an assault on such a valuable charge? Recently people have been taken away for much less. Last month, a neighbor was arrested for filming a State Guard beating a man on a public street. No one has seen him since.

“Halton stopped his agent from arresting me,” Mira says.

I turn away from the screen to look at her. “Why?”

She lifts her shoulders in a half shrug. “It might be because of the governor’s plan to marry him to us. To you.”

“An arranged marriage,” I say. “There’s no way in hell we are agreeing to such a disgusting political move.”

I pace the room restlessly, the heated feelings from earlier bubbling back up to the surface. Right now I want to run uncontrolled and wild like a big cat in the Serengeti of the past. In the history videos I watch with Mira, I’ve seen the creatures roam free through the vast grasslands. I have no sense of what that sort of freedom must feel like. I’ve lived in a congested urban sprawl my entire life. I’ve never even stepped foot on open land. I wish I could find some for us, and that I could keep Mira there, safe.

Father’s words burn past my throat and erupt off my tongue: “Keep quiet. Keep hidden. Don’t stand out; blend in.”

I circle the room, round and around our cage. “We must always follow the rules. But not Father. He can do whatever he wants.”

“And say whatever he wants. Even to the governor,” Mira interjects.