Rebel (Legend, #4)(40)

June shakes her head. “Eden hasn’t changed at all, has he?” she says quietly.

At that, a smile sneaks onto the corner of my lips. “It’s the best and worst thing about him. He does things that shake entire structures of society. He finds himself at the center of everything, without ever trying to do anything other than help someone. Sometimes I wonder what John would think if he were still here, how proud he’d be of his kid brother.” I grimace a little. “I just wish it wasn’t always something that could get the damn kid killed. Sometimes it’s noble. Sometimes it’s just stupid. It’s a fine line.”

June smiles gently at me. “Noble. Sometimes stupidly so. At the center of everything because he’s always trying to help someone. It sounds to me like he takes after someone I know.”

I grin a little at that. “I did what I had to do.”

“You do what you believe is right. Always. And doing what’s right tends to be hard.”

I look at her. “You aren’t exactly a conformer yourself, Ms. Iparis,” I say, turning to face her directly now. “I think the Republic has a few things to say about that.”

She smiles again and looks away from me to the view beyond the window. I know she’s thinking about her brother now. “The Republic’s changing slower than I would like. Anden’s doing his best, but the politics of it all makes me impatient.” She runs an idle hand through her hair, and the gesture reminds me of another forgotten memory, of her fingers through her shining ponytail, the hair hanging long past her shoulders.

My thoughts return to her life, and how she has learned to steady it. I clear my throat awkwardly and stare down at my hands. “Hey,” I say quietly. “Can I ask … what made you and Anden decide to end things?”

June’s quiet, and for a moment I think I’ve overstepped. But then a faraway look crosses her face. “I don’t know how it gradually fell apart,” she finally replies. “But there was one early morning that changed everything. I remember it because the light coming in through the window was so beautiful, the purest light I’d ever seen, just painting a golden stripe against my arm.” She smiles a little at that. “I got up, walked to the window, and admired the most stunning dawn I’d seen in a while. And you know what? All I could think about was that I didn’t want to share that moment with him, because I didn’t think we would be admiring the same thing. And then I wondered whether that was strange, to not want the person I loved to be beside me.” She looks down. “I think both of us already knew, though. I moved out pretty soon after that.”

I don’t really know what to say. All I can think about is that I would’ve given anything to share a moment like that with her. But I don’t tell her that. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I finally answer.

She gives me a wry smile. “Hopefully not too sorry, though.”

Her words send a ribbon of wild hope through my veins. I laugh in embarrassment, afraid to think about the possibilities between us. “Okay, fine—not that sorry. But I’m glad you’re both still friends. You’re the one who pushes him forward, anyway. He’ll always take your advice. You can see it in the way he’s always turned toward you, waiting for your opinion.”

“Yeah, well,” she replies, “my advice isn’t worth much if we can’t act on any of it. He’s doing his best.” We’re quiet for a few seconds. “Even after everything we’ve gone through,” she adds, “after all the war we’ve both seen, there are still so many things wrong. The work never really ends, does it? It just shifts to something else.”

My gaze wanders to the glow of the city against her skin, to the soft waves in her hair, to her dark eyes. “Maybe,” I say softly. “But there are constants to anchor ourselves to.” I hesitate, almost too afraid to say it. “And you are mine.”

We’re very close now. June blushes, and my heartbeat quickens. I can’t remember whether I felt this exact way when we were young, whether moments like this felt like an electric current humming beside me. I can’t imagine reacting any other way to her.

“Daniel,” she whispers. “I…”

I hold my breath, wondering what she might say. Terrified to guess.

This is the moment when I’m going to close the distance between us again. When I’m going to kiss her, when she’s going to pull me with her to her room.

But then I sense a slight hesitation from June. She holds back, afraid, pulling the string between us so taut that I can feel it ready to snap.

And I freeze. I clear my throat. I step away.

The air between us seems to sigh in disappointment. All I can hear is the conversation we had that night when I saw her at the train station, about everything that had happened to us in the past.

Are we ready? Is she?

I don’t know if this can ever last. I don’t know if I am the catalyst for all that might unravel in her life, the one who might end the normalcy she’s earned for herself. I don’t know if we are meant to be.

Maybe she’s thinking the same.

June speaks first. “I have to check on the Elector,” she says. “He must be heading back from the gala soon.”

I nod, looking down. “Of course,” I reply. “I better get back too, to do the same with Eden.”