Ari nods away, his gaze soft and encouraging as he watches me.
Bia’s words make so much sense. Fear is stopping those in charge from even contemplating us staying down here for the foreseeable future; they want us to return to what we once knew. At all costs. But how can you want something so much that you don’t care about the facts anymore? So many Explorers and scientists have reached the same conclusion—that returning to the surface anytime soon is impossible—and yet the government refuses to acknowledge the findings. Instead they push this hope and dream as the only thing worth holding on to, worth living for. Nothing else is worth caring about, or enjoying.
How can a small group of people think they know what’s best for the majority without even asking us?
“We have to change the way we think, Ari.”
“But I like the way you think,” he says softly, his eyes brilliant and bright now.
My mouth falls opens and warmth radiates in my chest.
He leans back, raking his hand through his still-damp hair as if checking himself, and his cheeks flush. He turns his gaze to the water and clears his throat, nodding. “I agree. The seasickness isn’t inevitable. It’s a result of all the fear we’re exposed to.”
“Yes,” I say, gazing into the current. “It makes sense. Wireless Man and his constant droning on about all the dangers, daily scare stories such as Today’s Terrors of the Deep, the ‘earthquakes,’ everything. It all adds up. Couple that with the constant worshipping of the past and of course it’s eventually going to make us ill.” I rub my arms. “Anyway, I’ve yet to work out why they took him. Thank you,” I say, my voice small. “For everything. I’m so sorry about, you know . . . the Anthropoids who boarded the sub—they really hurt you.” I look up at him.
His reply is low, his voice husky and firm. “I would gladly do it again to protect you.”
Oh. I swallow. My chest expands forever until I’m floating away. We fall very still. His gaze burns into mine and neither of us blink. His lips look so soft. . . .
Oscar appears. We both turn from each other and warmth floods my face as I force myself to focus on the Navigator’s words.
“My lady, the notifications alert system has been triggered.”
“What? Where?”
“On the news. At this very minute, my dear.”
We jump up.
I command the screen on and freeze, all warm feelings instantly evaporating. Captain Sebastian is speaking, his ever-shifty gaze now piercing cold as he stares into the camera. Before I even hear his words, my eyes catch the text running along the bottom.
Wanted: Hashem McQueen. Leyla McQueen. Crime: Terrorism. Approach with caution.
Ari stiffens beside me. The PM’s right-hand man is still speaking, but I’m mesmerized by the images. There’s a picture of the Kabul while it was at the principal base in Mayfair. Then footage as a pack of cameras hovers inside the hangars. The police are everywhere. It cuts to Deathstar, the mechanic who’d been in charge of the Kabul, hurrying away from the manic Newsbots. Next, he exits a door, a metal pole in his hand and, oh my God, he swings at the cameras. There’s a scramble with several police officers and Deathstar is tased; he slumps to the floor, subdued.
I cry out, shaking my head, vaguely aware of Ari clasping my hand in his own.
Then Papa’s face and mine—it’s my official London Marathon
picture—cover the screen.
“A handsome reward,” Captain Sebastian says, his eyes narrowed, his bitter expression unshakable. A venomous sea snake devoted to the hunt, anticipating its immobilizing bite. “Your country needs your help in finding and apprehending these treacherous criminals. Know this: Leyla McQueen and Hashem McQueen are currently this nation’s number one enemy. As such, the safety of Britons is our top priority.”
“Screen one off,” I whisper, suddenly breathless. Everything’s flip-
flopping inside.
The screen goes blank and I stare ahead, not seeing anything. My pulse whooshes away in my ears; I can feel it all over my body. I shiver.
“Leyla . . .” Ari tugs my hand, urging me to return to the cushions in the viewport. I sit, while he grabs the nearest throw and wraps it around my shoulders. He kneels in front of me, clasping my hands in his. Tension sparks off his rigid posture, the muscles in his face straining against his skin.
A terrible, searing chill sweeps over me and I shudder. I take deep breaths and nod. “Papa . . . he’s not safe. We’re not safe. We—we have to keep moving. Yes, we’ll just keep moving—no matter where—until we’ve sorted this out.” Sort it out how? Hot panic rises up, threatening to burn me to nothing. I’d always hoped I could return to London with Papa once I found him. But so much has changed since then. . . . My world isn’t even the same one as before.
We sit there in silence, Ari in front of me, my hands in his. Finally my pulse calms, and I sort through my thoughts. I need to take control of the situation, make a list. First thing, Ari must go home immediately. He’s already put himself at risk too many times for us and needs to return to them safe and sound.
“I can do it.” I look at him. “I’ll—I’ll drop you off home first. And then I need to look after Papa and me. Thank God for the Kabul. . . . I’d never have made it a single day using public transport. With this sub, though, thanks to Theo’s modification, I have a chance. All I have to do is keep hiding, only moving when necessary, you know? Yes, I can do this.”
Though his eyes are heavy now, there’s a small tug on his soft lips as he watches me and nods, before looking down at our entwined hands. When he lifts his gaze, the spark has returned. “We can do this.”
I stare at him. He can’t mean it. Would he really do that for us? “No, you’ve already done enough. This is my problem now. I can look after myself, after Papa. I can. We might be hiding for ages.”
His amber eyes are imploring now. “I know. But I want to stay. I can’t leave you like this. I can help you; let me help you. You’re fugitives now. And there’s a substantial reward for capturing you. They know it was you behind the breakout. They’re not going to stop until they’ve taken you in.” He tilts his head, jaw rigid as he considers something, his eyes glinting as they dart to the blank screen. “We need to make sure that never happens.”
A scratching inside, sharp nails clawing as panic tries to rise again. But I push it down, down, down, and focus on Ari instead.
My heart expands as I take him in. There’s always a perfect radiance around him, reflected in his eyes, on his brown skin. He’s an ocean of coppery-gold bioluminescence, but infinitely brighter, and ten thousand times more mysterious than the deepest pockets of the earth.
It’s incredibly selfish, I know, but I want him with us. He’s been a light in the darkness.
I nod, and a wave of relief swamps the edges of the dread. Ari’s staying. “All right. Yes, we can do it,” I say. “All we’d have to do is evade them until Papa’s better and we know exactly what’s going on. We’re not clueless, and we have the Kabul. I know we can do it.”
He nods as he watches me intently. “You could do anything you put your mind to, Leyla,” he says, so incredibly softly now. “You must not worry.”