Now the question becomes finding the right Red, saying the right thing, finding the right place, and doing it all without anyone noticing the prince and his future princess communicating with a wanted terrorist.

This isn’t like the crowds at home, the ones I could move through so easily. Now I stand out, a future princess surrounded by guards, with a rebellion resting on her shoulders. And maybe even something more important, I think, remembering the list of names in my jacket.

When the crowd pushes in, craning to look at us, I take my chance and slip away. The Sentinels bunch around Maven, still not used to guarding me as well, and with a few quick turns, I’m out of the circle of guards and onlookers. They continue across the plaza without me, and if Maven notices I’m gone, he doesn’t stop them.

The Red servants don’t acknowledge me, their heads down as they buzz between shops. They keep to alleys and shadows, trying to stay out of sight. I’m so busy searching the Red faces that I don’t notice the one at my elbow.

“My lady, you dropped this,” the little boy says. He’s probably ten years old, with one arm banded with red. “My lady?”

Then I notice the scrap he holds out. It’s nothing, just a twisted bit of paper I don’t remember having. Still, I smile for the boy and take it from him. “Thank you very much.”

He grins at me, smiling as only a child can, before bounding away into an alley. He bounces with every step. Life has not dragged him down yet.

“This way, Lady Titanos.” A Sentinel stands over me, watching with flat eyes. So much for that plan. I let him lead me back to the transport, feeling suddenly dejected. I can’t even sneak away like I used to. I’m getting soft.

“What was that all about?” Maven wonders as I slide back into the transport.

“Nothing,” I sigh, casting a glance out the window as we pull away from the plaza. “Thought I saw someone.”

We’re around a bend in the street before I even think to look at the little paper. I unfold it in my lap, hiding the scrap in the folds of my sleeve. There are words scrawled across the slip, so small I can barely read them.

Hexaprin Theater. Afternoon play. The best seats.

It takes me a moment to realize I only understand half those words, but that doesn’t matter at all. Smiling, I press the message into Maven’s hand.

Maven’s request is all it takes to get us into the theater. It’s small but very grand, with a green domed roof crowned by a black swan. It’s a place of entertainment, showing plays or concerts or even some archive films on special occasions. A play, as Maven tells me, is when people, actors, perform a story on a stage. Back home we didn’t have time for bedtime fairy tales, let alone stages and actors and costumes.

Before I know it, we’re sitting on a closed balcony above the stage. The seats below us teem with people, many of them children, all of them Silver. A few Reds rove between the rows and aisles, serving drinks or taking tickets, but none sit down. This is not a luxury they can afford. Meanwhile, we sit on velvet chairs with the best view, with the secretary and the Sentinels standing just beyond our curtained door.

When the theater darkens, Maven throws an arm across my shoulders, pulling me so close I can feel his heartbeat. He smirks at the secretary, now peeking between the curtains. “Don’t disturb us,” he drawls, and he pulls my face to his.

The door clicks behind us, locking shut, but neither of us pulls away. A minute or an hour passes, which I don’t know, until voices onstage bring me back to reality. “Sorry,” I mutter to Maven, standing up out of my chair in an effort to put some distance between us. There’s no time for kissing now, no matter how much I might want to. He only smirks, watching me instead of the play. I do my best to look elsewhere, but something always draws my eyes back to him.

“What do we do now?”

He laughs to himself, eyes glinting mischievously.

“That’s not what I meant.” But I can’t help but smirk with him.

“Cal cornered me earlier.”

Maven’s lips purse, tightening at the thought. “And?”

“It seems I’ve been saved.”

His resulting grin could light the world entire, and I’m seized by the need to kiss him again. “I told you I would,” he says, his voice oddly rough. When his hand reaches for mine, I take it without question.

Before we can continue, the ceiling panel above us scrapes away. Maven jumps to his feet, more startled than I am, and peers into the black space above us. Not even a whisper filters down, but all the same, I know what to do. Training has made me stronger and I pull myself up with ease, disappearing into the dark and cold. I can’t see anything or anyone, but I’m not afraid. Excitement rules me now, and with a smile, I reach down a hand to help Maven. He scrambles up into the darkness and tries to get his bearings. Before our eyes adjust, the ceiling panel slides back into place, shutting out the light and the play and the people beyond.