“I miss her,” Lumi says suddenly. “I didn’tappreciate her until I lost her. I’m so lost now. I wish I couldtalk to her again.”

Nazirah understands exactly how Lumi feels.“I know,” she says simply.

“I know why you were asking before,” Lumisays, “about the tattoos. I noticed it too.”

“Noticed what, exactly?”

“Oh please, Nazirah,” Lumi scoffs, fidgetingwith a strand of blond hair. She seems uncomfortable. “You’re notthe only one here with a brain and two eyes. Adamek’s tattoo; it’sunusual.”

“You saw it too, Lumi?” Nazirah asks,excited.

“Obviously.”

“Do you know why it’s abnormal?”

“No idea.” Lumi shrugs her shoulders gentlyand Nazirah’s hopes deflate. “He’s got so many tattoos I didn’teven notice at first. But I noticed his dusza right away. That’spretty impossible to miss.”

Dusza? Nazirah has never heard the termbefore. “What’s a doo-shah?” Nazirah asks, trying to pronounce itcorrectly.

“Really, Nazirah?” asks Lumi, peeved.“Didn’t you learn anything from your research on Zima?”

Nazirah looks at her guiltily.

“His dusza … his soul tattoos.”

Now Nazirah is beyond lost. “His what?”

“It’s an ancient tradition of ours,” Lumisays, “like the scratch marks on his hands. I can’t explain it toowell to a southerner. Centuries ago, before our warriors fought inbattle, they received the dusza. It’s an extremely painful ordeal,but it offered them protection, so they did it.”

“Protection from their enemies?”

Lumi shakes her head. “Zimans believe thatwhen you kill, you lose a part of your soul. “The dusza … it’s anold wives’ tale that almost nobody takes seriously anymore. If youhave it and you kill another, it’s supposed to protect you. Yoursoul remains intact. But it comes at a terrible price: unbearableguilt, the burden for the lives you’ve taken.”

“Why would Morgen care about getting Zimansoul tattoos?”

“Search me.” Lumi shrugs. “Like I said, it’sa fable, a bedtime story every Ziman child grows up with. I almostdidn’t believe he actually had it, when I first saw it.”

“Lumi,” Nazirah asks curiously, “I’ve neverseen this dusza on Morgen. Where exactly is it?”

Lumi stiffens. “On his back,” she says.

“When did you see his back?”

“God,” Lumi sighs, looking away inembarrassment. Nazirah gets an unsettling feeling in the pit of herstomach, as Adamek’s words ring in her head.

Don’t ask a question, if you don’t want toknow the answer.

“Oh,” Nazirah says, realizing.

Lumi faces Nazirah, unusually vulnerable.“Don’t tell Cato, okay?”

“So you and Morgen are uh … dating?”

Lumi frowns. “No, Nazirah. We’re notdating.”

“But –”

“I really don’t get it!” Lumi interrupts,throwing up her hands. “I thought it was all an act, but you reallyare that naïve.” Lumi stands, wiping invisible specks of dirt fromher legs. Nazirah remains seated, face aflame. This is the secondtime someone has said that to her recently. It must be true. “Catocares about you a lot, you know,” Lumi says, before leaving. “Don’tmess it up.”

Nazirah sits alone on the grass, trying todecipher her torrent of clashing emotions. She feels compassion forLumi, uneasiness about Adamek, and embarrassment for herself. Butthere’s more to it than that. Trapped in thought, she distantlywatches the final plays of the ball game. A wave of sickeningrevulsion surges over her, once Nazirah pinpoints exactly what elseshe’s feeling.

Jealousy.

Chapter Nine

Nazirah walks into Territory History exactlyone minute early. She was holed up in the library all last night,finishing her essay on Mediah. The rest of the class is alreadythere, but Bairs is uncharacteristically late.

The recruits are lounging around, relaxing.They laugh and sit on desks, speaking easily with one another.Nazirah spots Cato and Lumi towards the back of the room. She headsover to them and takes an empty seat next to Cato. Nazirah motionstowards the Bear’s empty desk. “What’s going on?” she asks.

“No one knows,” Taj replies, a few seatsaway. He raps on the desk with his fists, drumming an energeticbeat to kill time.

Hadn’t Adamek said over the weekend thatBairs’s mother was very ill? Nazirah wonders if Bairs is visitingher or something.

Nazirah pulls out her finished paper infrustration. She holds it up, showing it to Cato. “Figures.”

Cato smiles sympathetically. “That’s the wayit goes.”

Nazirah gets up and walks towards Bairs’sdesk, wanting to at least put her paper into the inbox. Theclassroom door opens and Adamek walks in, holding a silverbriefcase. He heads straight to the front of the room and sets thebriefcase down on the desk. The class immediately goes silent.

Adamek doesn’t need to tell people to taketheir seats, doesn’t need to say a word. The recruits automaticallyrush to find empty desks. Nazirah is left standing in the front ofthe room, staring blankly, paper in hand. Adamek smirks at her.“Questions already?” he asks.

Nazirah pulls herself together, quicklywalking the rest of the way to the desk. From the corner of hereye, she sees him enter a four digit code onto the briefcase’skeypad, unlocking it. Nazirah files the numbers away in her mind,placing her paper in Bairs’s inbox. “I was handing this in,” shemutters, not bothering to wait for a response before returning toher seat.

Lumi seems extremely uncomfortable andavoids looking at Adamek. He doesn’t even spare her a glance. Angerboils inside of Nazirah. It’s so typical of guys like Adamek tosleep with a girl and then move on to someone new. Nazirah shootshim a scathing look, which of course he notices.

“At the request of your Commanders,” Adameksays, his voice confident and easy, “I’ll be teaching this classfor a while. Professor Bairs has taken an indefinite leave ofabsence.” The class whispers, until Adamek silences it with a look.“Now I, personally, don’t give a shit about the nuances of eachterritory.” Adamek touches the briefcase lightly. Nazirahrecognizes it from Niko’s desk. “Though I’m sure there are many. Asyou are undoubtedly aware, the Medis have extraordinarily advancedtechnology, military, and medicine. But I don’t think you realizeexactly how advanced.” He opens the case. All the recruits in theclass crane their necks, trying to get a better look.

“What is it?” asks Anzares, from the frontrow.

“When Medi soldiers train for battle,”Adamek says, “they often prepare by using this device, called anIluxor. Does anyone know what an Iluxor is?” He looks around theroom, but no one raises a hand. “Nation?” He singles Nazirah out,picking up her research paper and flipping through it casually. “Noidea? I know from our conversation this weekend how interested youare in Mediah.”

A classroom of eyes swings to Nazirah,shocked. Not many people know she and Adamek are on speaking terms.And they’re not … not really. Adamek is just trying to embarrassher, getting back at Nazirah for questioning his tattoo. Cato goesstiff beside her, looking carefully between the two of them.Nazirah unfortunately does remember reading about the Iluxor. “Ithelps soldiers channel and overcome their fears,” she says.

“Correct,” Adamek says, taking out a syringefull of clear liquid. “Any idea how?”

“No,” she snaps.

Adamek holds up the syringe. “This is acomplex neurological serum. Once in the bloodstream, it stimulatesthe neurons in your brain associated with fear and memory. Usedsimultaneously with the actual Iluxor” – Adamek holds up whatappears to be a large cube of glass – “which detects these enhancedbrainwaves through sensory vibration – and under the guidance ofsomeone who actually knows what he’s doing – we can channel thesewaves directly into the brain’s occipital lobe, allowing you totemporarily relive certain memories.”

The entire class stares at Adamekblankly.

Ansel Mays raises his hand. “So … we canwatch our memories play inside our heads?”