What if?

“Thought I might find you here,” a voice says behind me, and I nearly drop the torch I’m holding as I spin around to find Thom standing in the tunnel holding a torch of his own. The firelight flickers along the craggy planes of his face, and he smiles a little as I shake my head.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. You nearly gave me heart failure.”

“Didn’t sneak up on purpose. You weren’t paying attention.” He shifts his torch to his other hand. “You need sleep, Logan.”

“I can’t.”

“If you want to lead everyone out of this place tomorrow, you don’t have a choice.” He nods toward the far end of the tunnel, where the faint hum of the machine drones steadily. “I’ll keep watch here for you.”

“You need sleep, too.” And besides, I’m not awake because I think the tunnel crew needs supervision. I’m awake because there might be a scenario that I’ve missed. I can’t afford to stop thinking through the potential problems and coming up with viable solutions.

“The group can function well enough without me for a few hours tomorrow if I have to nap in a wagon, Logan. It’s you they need.”

The air in the tunnel feels close and warm. I gulp it down as my throat tightens and look away. For most of my life, I wondered what it would feel like to be respected. Looked up to. Needed.

I thought it would be fulfilling, but instead it’s exhausting. The expectations and hope placed on me weigh more than I think I can bear, and every single bit of the trust that’s been thrust my way feels fragile in my clumsy hands.

What if I fail them?

Thom’s hand wraps around my shoulder and squeezes gently. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

He sighs and settles himself next to me with his back against the dirt wall. His mop of brown hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care. “That’s young. Maybe too young for everything we’ve asked of you.”

“Drake could do it better.” I lean next to him and watch the way the torchlight dances in the gloom. “He’s older, more experienced—he’d already started leading your group against the Commander. I just don’t understand why . . .”

“Why we picked you?”

I nod.

“Drake gathered a group of like-minded people together to talk grand ideas. What if things were different? What if we could change our society?” His hand tightens against my shoulder and then slips away. “But really, what we were doing was waiting for the Commander to die. Planning for change that we could implement when our enemy was already gone.”

I remain silent, and Thom takes a moment, as if he wants to choose his words with care. “But you, Logan, you didn’t wait. You didn’t sit in dark corners making big plans that you knew you couldn’t put into motion because it would mean committing treason. You stood up to him. You saw an injustice, and you stood up to him. None of us had ever found the courage to do that.”

“I just did what anyone . . . I couldn’t—he was hurting Rachel.”

Thom’s voice is filled with quiet grief. “And before that, it was Drake’s wife. Derreck’s son. My sister. The list is endless. But we just talked. Grieved and talked. Got angry and talked some more. We were full of someday plans, because we aren’t leaders.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.”

“I’d say that honor goes to you alone.”

We fall silent, listening to the rumble of the machine and the quiet murmurs of the tunnel crew as they brace the walls and the ceiling.

“You aren’t afraid when it counts,” he says.

My laugh is tinged with bitterness. “I’m always afraid.”

“Of what? Dying? Being tortured? The Cursed One?”

“Failing.”

There’s a smile in his voice. “And that’s what makes you the right leader for us. You’re driven to do the right thing, no matter what it costs you. And you’re smart enough to make it happen. Never in my life seen anyone with more ideas and plans than you.”

I let his words settle in my head while our torches hiss and pop. The burden of responsibility is still enormous, but somehow it feels like Thom is now shouldering a small piece of it for me. I push away from the wall and look at him. His brown eyes hold mine steadily, and he waits quietly for my next words.

“I think this is the longest conversation you and I have ever had,” I say.

He looks pained. “I’d appreciate it if next time you didn’t make me do most of the talking. Never really cared for it.”

I grin. “I respect a man who lets his actions speak louder than his words.”

“And I respect you. Never forget it. Now go get some sleep. I’ll watch over the tunnel until daybreak.”

I respect you. His words ring in my ears as I follow his advice and head toward the main banquet hall and my bedroll.

I was wrong. Being needed, trusted, and respected by others isn’t nearly as exhausting as the fear that those who now look to me for leadership do so because they’ve built me up to be more than I can possibly be. Thom accepts my fears and my shortcomings and still wants me as his leader for reasons that make sense to me. I underestimated him, and as I lie down with nothing but a thin blanket between me and the cold marble floor of the banquet hall, I have to wonder if it’s possible that I’ve underestimated the rest of my people as well.