"He was joking, right?" Ezra asks, putting his ice pack against my jaw.

I push his hand away. "I don't need that. I don't even hurt anymore."

"Deva, there's no way he was serious. He was probably trying to screw with your head. He saw you zone out and he took advantage of you. What an asshole."

"He must've just thought I was gloating," I say, leaning against the cool wall and closing my eyes. "Which I was doing, for a couple of seconds before I hallucinated."

Ezra puts a hand on my knee. "Those hallucinations seem to be coming on more frequently these days, huh?"

I heave a sigh. "Like you wouldn't believe. I can't keep hiding them from Blake. I had to lie about it today. I told him I was hallucinating about meat, Ezra, meat, and he bought it."

He chortles. "Let me guess. He thought you were starving to death and his instincts kicked in, making him forget all about your hallucination. Must. Feed. Deva. The man's obsessed."

"That's exactly what happened."

"Damn, I'm good." He pauses. "But, in all seriousness... you should get checked out."

"I don't have the cash for that."

"Ceres would probably pay for you, if he..." Ezra trails off. If he knew.

"I'm not going to tell him," I murmur. "It was enough to tell you. I have this feeling that if I tell too many people, they'll stop coming. I... well. I don't exactly want them to go away."

"I know you think they're memories," Ezra says, his head coming to rest on my shoulder, "but they could also be a sign of illness. Victims of The Blot never get their memories back, Deva. They either go on living, or they go crazy. If the symptoms are caught early enough, you could be cured."

On the surface of my closed eyelids, I can still see those copper curls. I could believe there was sunlight shining on my face if it weren't for my knowledge of my surroundings. As soon as I hear Ezra say those last four words, you could be cured, I tense up.

"But you don't want that, do you? You don't want those hallucinations to stop."

Before I can reply, I hear the door to the change room slide open. From the sound of the light, refined footfalls, I know it's Ceres. No one else would step so carefully, and he's the only person I know personally who wears shoes with slight heels that clack on the floor. He can afford shoes like those, of course, because he owns this arena.

"Someone wants to see you, Deva," he informs me. "Someone important."

"The last time you said that," I say, my eyes still closed, "it was some brothel owner who wanted to add me to his roster. If it's him again, I know a great place to put my fist."

"It's not him. Thankfully."

I crack open one of my eyes. "Oh? Should we consider our options, then? Let's see... rich, admiring fan, some sponsor I haven't yet heard of..." I stop, remembering who Anden said his sponsor was. "Don't tell me. It can't be him."

"And if it was?"

"I'd tell you to shove off and stop lying. You know, if I hadn't heard some guy tell who his sponsor was. Why does he want to see me? Isn't he supposed to be leading a rebellion?"

Ceres just runs a hand over his shiny head. "Do you think I know?" His voice is exasperated. "You cost me a lot of money tonight, Deva. A lot of money."

I bite my lip. "Yeah, whatever. Is he in the VIP box? I'll go see him myself."

"I'll take you. Let's go." When Ezra gets up, Ceres holds up a dark hand. "You can't come with us, Maverick."

Ezra sticks his tongue out before turning to me. "You shouldn't take too long. You have to get back before you-know-who comes back from the factory."

I nod. "Gotcha."

--

In the elevator, Ceres speaks to me in a way that, for the first time since he retrieved me from the change room, doesn't make me feel guilty for losing.

"He told me to give you that suit, you know." He says offhandedly.

"Idris did?" I look down at the suit, feeling the fine material. "Why?"

Ceres just averts his eyes. "It's none of my business, but I suppose you should know that he's a fan of yours."

My gaze goes to the mirror that makes up the back wall of the elevator. Idris, a fan of mine? I almost don't bother entertaining the thought. How could someone like him admire me, when I've been admiring him this whole time? What's so admirable about me, anyway, besides the way I brawl? I'm pretty, that I'll admit- but Idris probably has hundreds of pretty girls at his disposal, not to mention Alexandra Verdin, probably the most beautiful woman that's ever lived.

But maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe it really is just about my brawling. Maybe he wants to sponsor me. Idris, sponsoring me. My heart beats furiously in my chest.

"When you speak to him, always address him as 'sir', and whatever you do..." His brows knit together, and he moves closer to me. "Don't disrespect him, Deva. Please."

"A lot of rules there," I sigh. "You'd think that a revolutionary like him wouldn't have any."

"That's the keyword, Deva. Revolutionary, not anarchist."

The elevator stops and the doors slide open, revealing a long, brightly lit corridor. Ceres and I walk down it together, his tailored clothing swishing with every move he makes.

"You'll do as I ask, though, won't you?" Ceres asks. "I've spent a long time trying to get on this man's good side, Deva, you have no idea."

"I have no idea because you never told me. Aren't we friends, Ceres?" I say this jokingly, but a bad feeling in my gut accompanies my words.

He clears his throat. "We're accomplices. I wouldn't expect you to tell me every single secret of yours."

I frown. No. Of course you wouldn't. I never told you about my hallucinations. Why should you have told me about Idris?

"Deva," Ceres prompts. "Tell me you'll listen to me."

"Don't worry about it." I wave him off. "I know I've been a bitch to all of your other important men, but they deserved it. I wouldn't do that to Idris. He's... he's a good man."

Ceres doesn't move his head, but I see his eyes dart towards me, scrutinizing me. "I see."

We reach the end of the hallway, and Ceres runs ahead to key in a passcode. He gets it wrong the first time and utters an oath under his breath. The second time, the door opens. Ceres grabs my arm and pulls me inside, shoving me to the center of the room.

I've never been inside the VIP box before, so I was never aware of just how luxurious it was. The tinted glass forms the back wall, only from this side of it, it's transparent and clear. To the right of me is a bar, colourful jars placed on shelves made of rich, dark faux-wood. Orb lights hang from the ceiling on shimmering silver chains. To the left of me is a lounge area, where a plush red sectional sits.

And on that sectional, with an air of sophistication, sits Idris. I stare at him for a moment, hardly daring to believe that it's really him. He looks exactly like he does in his wanted poster- that shiny, streamlined mask, the black bodysuit, the blood-red cape. He has one leg folded over the other in a perfect picture of ease, as if nothing can shake his calm. His mask tilts in my direction- he's looking at me, really looking at me- and the silence that has been present since my entrance drags on.

Anden looks my way, too. He's seated on the sectional, a couple of feet of space separating him and Idris, his flat black eyes resting on me the same way they did when we brawled. One of his arms is sprawled over the back of the sectional, but even in a position that should make him look relaxed, he looks tense. Alert.

"Idris, sir," Ceres greets. "Here she is."

Idris nods. "Miss Amador. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

His voice is so different from any other I've heard before. It's processed like it's been run through a machine, with hardly any real inflection. I can't compare it to a human voice; it's not a human voice. It's too deep, too husky, too monotone. There must be a device in his mask that changes his tone, just in case someone were to recognize him.

Ceres elbows me in the side. I shoot him a dirty look.

"Hello... sir." I give him a quick bow. Respectful enough for you, Ceres?

There's an emotion in Idris' voice, one that wasn't there before, but it's impossible to identify because of the way his voice is processed. "You did quite well tonight. Most people don't last too long against Anden." He tells me.

I try to send a pleasant smile his way, but the reminder of Anden's victory against me just sours my mood. "Yes, well, he's very good."

"As are you. You're very talented. Who taught you to brawl?"

His compliment suddenly tarnishes the irritated atmosphere buzzing around my body. "My brother did, a long time ago." When Ceres casts a wary look my way, I clear my throat and add, "Sir."

A moment passes. Then, "Anden, Ceres, could you please step out for a bit?"

"You've done it now," Ceres mutters, quiet enough so that Idris won't catch it. "You can't blame me for whatever happens next."

Anden stands and goes to the door with Ceres. It slides open, and they both step through. I watch them go, and from the other side, Ceres shakes his head as the door shuts. I chew on my lower lip and turn back to Idris.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, sir," I say, as earnestly as I can manage. "I'm just a bit forgetful of the rules, and it's not Ceres' fault at all. I'm abrasive, he'll tell you, anyone who knows me can attest to that-"

"You think I'm offended?" Idris asks.

"You're not?" I blurt.

"No," he states. "Why don't you come sit with me, Deva?" He says my first name like he's testing the taste of it on his tongue. He must like the way it tastes, because he says it again when I don't move. "Deva, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I- I didn't think you would, or anything," I agree, crossing the room to sit on the sectional with him. The sectional is as comfortable as it initially looked, and I find myself sinking into it, sighing with contentment. "Uh, thanks for offering for me to sit with you, sir."

He leans his head back against the sectional, his mask still turned in my direction. "You sound odd speaking like that. Drop the 'sir'. Only my subordinates call me that."

"I'm not your subordinate?"

I think I hear him let out a soft breath of laughter. "You don't work for me, Miss Amador. Of course you're not my subordinate."

Somehow, I find myself entranced by every sound that comes from his mouth. Every movement he makes is hypnotizing. I have to blink my eyes a few times before I can even begin to register what he's said.

"Alright." I say finally. My eyes travel over his body, which is obviously muscular even underneath that padded bodysuit. "You're from the Outer Ring." I observe.

"Oh? Why do you think that?"

"Your muscles," I point out, and instantly I feel heat creeping up my cheeks. "You must be well versed in manual labour."

"You're very perceptive," Idris tells me. "But you're wrong."

"Wrong?" I ask. "So you're from the Middle Ring?"

"No," Idris replies. "Tell me, Miss Amador, what do you know about the wall?"

My eyes widen. "You can't be from out there, can you?"

"I am."

"That's impossible. There's nothing out there but chaos."

"And who told you that?"

I put a hand over my chest. "My brother."

"So your brother has been on the other side of the wall, then?" He inquires.

"Well, no-"

"Then how do you know if he's telling the truth?"

I bite my lower lip and slowly shake my head. "I suppose I don't."

There's a pregnant pause in our conversation, one in which I steadily grow more and more uncomfortable. Suddenly, Idris moves closer to me. "I don't mean to accuse your brother of duplicity," he says gently. "How could he know anything about what's outside of Adia? The Chancellor has blinded you all with his lies. But I know the truth, Deva. I know what's out there."

This piques my interest. "What is it like?"

"See for yourself." He snaps his gloved fingers and the tinted window turns completely black, the lights above us dimming. The wall across from the glass emits a projection from a small pinhole.

I watch with a gaping mouth, as I see moving video of a blackened landscape. Far in the distance, I see what looks to be a huge wall, gray and mundane.

"Is that the wall?"

"It is."

"Why is everything black? It looks like everything was burned."

"Everything was burned," Idris says grimly. "Probes sent from Adia set fire to the ground on a routine basis so no one goes near the wall. Sometimes the fire doesn't go out for weeks at a time. People on the other side call Adia a rogue state. Can you believe that? The last time someone tried to cross that stretch of land, their skin was melted by chemical flames."

I stare at the projection in silent awe. The scene changes- now I see trees laden with fruit, strange animals prancing in tall grass, and a massive body of water that seems to have no end. I have no words for what I see. Why is all of this splendour being kept from us?

The previous scene fades and is replaced with a gorgeous view of something I've never seen before: people gather in front of a stone building. It looks old and weathered, but still magnificent; it gleams in the waning sunlight. The building is comprised of a circular base with columns atop it, holding up a flat, circular roof. Vines curl up and around the columns. Atop the building is a tall, elegant stone statue of a man and a woman, both completely naked. Their hands are joined and raised high into the air, their arms twined together.

"What is that?" I ask.

"A place of worship," Idris replies. "You wouldn't understand it- religion was abolished in Adia. These people are going to pray to their deities."

"Deities?"

"Powerful beings." He snaps his fingers once more, and the projection shuts off. The lights go back to their previous brightness, and Idris fluidly stands. "How much do you know about Adia's history?"

I think back to the countless times that I sat outside one of the many squalid schools in the Outer Ring, my back to the wall while Ezra and I listened to the teacher's words.

"Before Adia's formation, the world was on the path to destruction. People hated each other, and no one could get along. Corrupt leaders were leading armies into enemy territory, trying to capture land and valuable resources. Out of all of this emerged the Elite party and Adrian Rook, who is now the eternal Chancellor of Adia. They swiftly built the wall around an existing city and hid from sight as the world ended around them. Originally, the people of the Outer Ring lived alongside the Elites, but a rebellion caused them to be relocated to the ghettos. Now the Elites live in the Inner Ring in a dome that keeps them safe from all harm. It is the duty of everyone in Adia to protect the High Chancellor."

"And do you believe that?"

"It's what I've been taught. I don't know any different." I say, echoing Blake's words to me from earlier today.

"Do you want to know the truth?"

Slowly, I nod.

"About a century ago, Adia as well as the rest of the world was ruled by two people. Do you remember the statues? They were built in their honour. They were said to have been immortal, and one person brought them down."

"The Chancellor." I breathe.

Idris nods. "He amassed a rebellion against them. The details get a bit blurry after that, but one thing everyone knows is that they were killed. Once Rook had power, he sealed Adia up and it's been that way ever since."

"Were they really immortal, then?" I ask, enthralled.

"I don't know," Idris says cryptically. "I wasn't alive when they were around, but I've heard of their legacy. The whole story seems... far-fetched, to say the least. Immortal or not, they're gone, and soon Rook will be gone, too, if things go my way." He pauses. "But just so you're aware, Deva, my little history lesson wasn't the main reason I asked Ceres to set up this meeting."

Suddenly, all talk of immortals and Chancellor Rook and rebellion fade into the background of my mind. I laugh a bit. "Ceres told me you're a fan. Do you want an autograph on your mask or something?"

He nods. "I was thinking you could sign right near my jaw."

I stare at him. "I can't tell if you're joking or not."

He doesn't address it. Instead, turns around, folds his hands behind his back, and says, "Don't take this badly, but I've been watching you for a very long time."

"You- what?"

He continues on, not even missing a beat. "I'm a bit, well, religious about you."

"Right. I still don't know what that word means."

"It means that I devote a certain degree of importance to you. It means that I am veritably consumed by you. It means," he says lowly, rotating back around to face me, his featureless mask imposing, alluring, "that I am completely and utterly besotted with you."

Something about the way he's speaking now makes my breath heavy, even though half of what he's just said makes no sense to me. "Are you speaking Adian standard?" I ask. "Because I can't really understand you."

"You want it in blunt terms. You want me to spell it out. Would that be correct? Oh, you really love to torture me, don't you?"

"Torture you? No, no, I don't want to torture you!" I exclaim. "I'm not good with words, okay? I don't know what the hell you're saying, honestly."

"Fine," he murmurs, bending so that we're on level with each other. "Do you remember those statues? The people who built them must have loved the immortals, right?"

"I guess." I reply.

He sighs. "I'd do that for you, if I could."

My cheeks must be red, so red. Come on, Deva, don't act like a teenager with a crush, I think. "So," I get out, "you're saying you love me?"

Idris straightens and looks away. He shrugs. "Well, something like that."