Thump, thump.

I jerked awake, my heart jumping into my throat. Thump, thump. Someone was at our door. Without making a sound, I slid out of bed and ran downstairs.

My eyes widened. The front door was shuddering with the force of each knock. I cautiously raised my face to the peephole. A man dressed in dark camouflage was waiting outside. His chest was adorned with various medals, distinguishing him from a common soldier or police officer. It was the crest on his chest that sent a bolt of fear into my heart: a blood-red circle surrounding three bold letters. APF: Amberasta Private Force.

I willed myself to open the door, but my hand refused to move. The APF was King Keon’s personal guard, known to be extremely disciplined and well trained, and as ruthless as the king himself. They were only deployed when great secrecy or skill was necessary. What is an APF member doing here? I despaired, have our meetings been discovered?

My blood ran red-hot with fear. At any moment, the soldier could burst through the door and wring my neck. I turned and ran as quickly as I dared to my parent’s bedroom. My mother was already awake, clutching the bedsheets with white knuckles. My father blinked sleep out of his eyes and searched for his glasses on the bedside table. “Get up,” I hissed, “there’s someone from the APF here!”

“Oh no,” my mother wailed. Her whole body began to shake. “Glace, what have you done?”

Ignoring her, my father climbed out of bed and pushed past me. His brown eyes were wide with terror. I knew he wouldn’t protect me if my loyalty was in question. I twisted around, thinking about making a break for the back door, but a gut feeling made me pause. The Resistance took every precaution to make sure Daichi’s house was a safe place to meet. Maybe the soldier is here for a different reason? If I run now, it will look like I have something to hide.

My father checked the peephole and opened the door. “Is this the Synco residence?” the guard asked methodically.

“Yes,” my father answered, his voice quivering like the call of a baby bird.

“There is a summoning notice for everyone in this area. His Excellence himself has an announcement to make. Meet in the square in one hour.”

The soldier shut the door firmly in my father’s face, making him stumble backwards. My mother emerged from the bedroom, still in her nightclothes, and began to sob quietly. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms. When we had been summoned at night before, it was always bad news. Twice to introduce new curfews and rations, and once for a public execution. I squeezed my eyes shut. The man had been no older than I, and the APF had shot him in front of our entire neighborhood. Without a trial, he had been condemned as a spy and convicted for treason against the king. I still remembered how his bullet-ridden body had slumped to the ground like a sack of flour. Even at the execution the king had not been present—he had never attended a summoning himself. Something truly significant must have happened for him to choose to appear now.

I ran up to my room to prepare, putting on my school uniform and tied my hair into a tight braid. When I returned downstairs, my mother and father joined me and we stepped out into the streets. It was crowded, but eerily quiet. People marched toward the square with bowed heads and shuffling steps. There was a noticeable tension in the air.

“What do you think is going on?” I whispered to my parents. “It must be something big for the king to be speaking himself.”

My father shot me a wary glance. “Don’t make guesses, Glace. We must trust the king’s intentions.” I looked at him incredulously. I would never understand his reverence for the king. Does he really believe that Keon provides us with a good life?

The street lights flickered on as more and more people joined the crowd. Their fear pushed against me on all sides. Crying children were hushed by their parents, and older people were hurried along by their younger relatives. Some had forgotten their jackets in their haste to leave and shivered with cold. The APF presence was strong near the square. Officers wove through the crowd, inspecting it and barking orders. A platform had been erected for the king to speak, and it was already surrounded by guards.

It took hours for the citizens of Historical Amberasta to gather. The crowd grew suffocatingly large and spilled back into the alleyways. The heels of my feet began to ache, and the people standing at my elbows made it hard to breathe. Finally, an announcer atop the platform called for quiet. The guards parted, revealing the upper body of the king.

“Greetings,” he spoke. His voice boomed from speakers mounted around the square. “Thank you all for coming to hear my humble words.”

As if we had a choice, I scoffed. Even now, the soldiers will be checking houses for people who disobeyed.

“As you know,” King Keon continued, “about sixty years ago, my grandfather, His Majesty Akli Keon, set about uniting the world in a conflict now called World War III. That is how Amberasta, and its sister country, Solokia, came to be formed. Now, I know we had our differences with Solokia, but they have long since been resolved through our generosity and goodwill.”

I narrowed my eyes, wondering where the king’s speech was leading. Relations with Solokia had been tense for decades. After all, our governments had opposing ideologies; Solokia was a republic with a president, and Amberasta was an autocratic monarchy.

“Six years ago,” the king continued, “in an epic act of goodwill, the royal family loaned our most precious talisman to Solokia. I am speaking, of course, of the Blood Dove.”

Many members of the crowd were nodding. So far, this was common knowledge. The Blood Dove was Amberasta’s symbol, a beautiful gemstone made of Red Beryl. It had been crafted in the last days of the war, and it was shaped like a dove to represent the soldiers who had lost their lives to attain peace. To ease tensions and lock down new trade agreements, the king had loaned out the Dove. It had been a vastly unpopular decision and spurred riots within Amberasta.

“The loaning of the Dove was a success. Our economy is booming, and we have never had a stronger army. This is all thanks, of course, to your loyalty and hard work.” The king reached into his jeweled coat and brought out a velvet box. It sparkled in the dim light of the square. There was a collective intake of breath as the king slowly opened the lid with a gloved hand.

“My goodness…” My father breathed, his words faltering. I frowned and stood on my toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents of the box.

I gasped. The priceless Blood Dove was nestled in the velvet lining of the box. Even though I had never seen it, there was no mistaking its color and shine. “It’s true!” Keon shouted gleefully, “the Blood Dove has returned!”

A thunderous cheer filled the air. My lips lifted upwards into a smile. Solokia remembered us, after all. They have returned our symbol of hope.

“Long live the king!” someone yelled. Their voice carried over the crowd, and others picked up the chant. “Long live the king! Long live the king!”

I glanced around, incredulous. Are these freaks brainwashed? Keon did nothing but give away the Dove in the first place. The chant rose to an almost unbearable volume. Someone jostled me from behind, and I whipped around with my fists raised.

A woman grabbed my arm, pulling me towards her. She wore the dark eye mask of Amberasta’s night police. “Start chanting,” she whispered into my ear. “Or I will question your loyalty.” Her grip on my arm was cutting off my circulation. Slowly, I set my jaw and began to move my mouth to the words. She released my arm, fixed me with one last stare, and slid back through the crowd.

I closed my eyes. The whole world was spinning with noise. This mission has to go well, I realized, because I think my luck is running out.