Page 77 of The Enemy's Daughter

He shrugs. “If the bombs hadn’t poisoned so much of the land, everywhere.”

But it isn’t safe. The land is poisoned, and Father says twenty thousand years will have to pass before it’s safe again.

“You know, the old world had this tram transportation that ran on a track, like motor vehicles but all connected together. People used to ride it across the Republic. Traders have told me where we can find a bunch of trams. I’d love to go and see that one day, find out what we can learn from it.”

Then do it, I want to say. I love that he has dreams and things he wants to accomplish too. But I’m also conflicted. There’s so muchriding on Tristan stepping up to lead his people. I need him to stop a war. “It might be difficult to leave if you’re elected mayor.”

His voice drops low. “Yeah. There was a time I didn’t want it at all. I mean, why pick me over someone like Vador? He’s already a respected leader as head of the elite guard. But my father always said he saw leadership in me, and now that he’s gone, I feel like I owe it to him to find it and step up.”

“I don’t think you need to find it. It’s already there.”

He nods, but I feel his aversion to talking anymore about it. We’ll have to circle back to this another time.

A comfortable silence descends on us. It’s too quiet. “Are your meetings finished early?”

“Traders arrived, which meant half the team and a good chunk of the town council had to go and secure the goods. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

So, we’re alone. My stomach somersaults, and there’s no doubt Tristan felt that, but I cover it by casually pulling the journal from his hands. I flip to the back page and point to the sketch of the young girl. “Who’s this?”

Tristan groans, and a ribbon of his embarrassment curls into a ball inside my gut. “Why did I leave that in there? Tear it out.”

“No way,” I say with outrage as I lift it out of his reach. “I’m keeping this forever—unless it’s Annette. Is it Annette?”

Disbelief fills his face as if he can’t believe I’d suggest such a thing.

“Well, it wouldn’t be outrageous. You were together.”

“We werenottogether.”

I raise a brow.

“I mean... not officially”—he rubs his forehead with the backof his fist—“I considered it, which may have allowed our friendship to blur the line at times.”

“But you...” I pause, unable to finish my sentence as I remember catching him and Annette together. She pushed up against him, and he didn’t stop her. They had a moment. I’m almost certain they kissed. A second too late, I realize my recollection of those events has played out in both of our heads.

Tristan smiles, then has the nerve to laugh. I watch him, confused, maybe even a little hurt. But then he’s moving, pushing me back so I’m lying on the bed. He hovers over me, his arms on either side of my shoulders. The connection whips into a frenzy at our closeness, and as if to seal it, he kisses me.

Then he shows me his memory of that night.

Annette is standing close, and I feel Tristan’s eagerness to pull away, but the tears brimming in her eyes keep him still.

“You don’t love her, and she doesn’t love you. It’s okay to end this marriage. That’s what your father would have wanted too.”

I lean into her ear, needing her to hear me clearly. “You’re wrong about my father.” I think of how he defended Isadora at our leadership meetings, calling her innocent. Or how he’d tease me about her when I’d return from surveillance of her house. The man had plenty of opportunities to voice any objections on my growing feelings for her, and he never did. “And as for ending this marriage—don’t ever suggest that again.”

“She’ll never love you the way you deserve, and you know it,” Annette whispers. Her eyes flare with a desperation I’ve never seen before. Then her fingers grip the back of my head, and she kisses me.

“Don’t,” I say angrily, as I jerk away. I can’t believe she’d—my head lifts at the feeling that I’ve just been kicked in the gut. There’s something off about it... like it’s not coming from...

The stairs creak. Isadora.

No!

“I think you know the rest,” Tristan says, bringing me back to the present.

I clear my throat. Tristan’s studying me, carefully gauging my reaction.

“Your father knew of me?”

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