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“Tell Charles the happy news.” He was watching me, his eyes fixed on the side of my face.
    It was over now, I could sense it, as my gaze met Charles’s. He looked at once hopeful and nervous, as he smoothed down a tuft of black hair that had fallen in his eyes. I filled my lungs, holding it there until it was too much to take. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my throat tight. “The City will be thrilled, I’m sure.”
    The bulldozer moved along the construction floor below, a low, beeping sound filling the air. I rested my hand on my chest, feeling my heart alive beneath my breastbone, the steadiness of it calming me. Just say it , I thought, watching as Charles dropped his head, his eyes on the pavement. Don’t drag this out any further.
    â€œAs am I.” He came toward me, his arms over my shoulders, until I was pressed tightly against his chest. I breathed in, my body slowly relaxing, settling in beside him. He rested his hand on the back of my head so gently, I had to blink back tears. “I’ve never been happier.”

six
    THE PARTY WAS STILL GOING ON, EVEN AFTER THE MUSICIANS had left for the night and the last of the cups and saucers had been cleared from the tables in the parlor. My father was more animated than I’d ever seen him, gesturing with his crystal glass, rambling on to Harold Pollack, an engineer in the City. “It’s something to celebrate,” I heard him say, as Charles and I started for the door.
    â€œIn a time when things aren’t as certain,” Harold agreed.
    At this the King waved his hand dismissively, as if swatting away a fly. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said. “A few riots at the labor camps are hardly a threat to the City.”
    I lingered there for a moment, watching them as Charles spoke with the Head of Finance. My father withstood Harold’s presence a moment longer before excusing himself. There had been talk of the labor camp riots all night. In between congratulations, people mentioned rumors about the labor camps, asking my father about the rebels outside the City. With every question he laughed a little harder, made more of a show of just how confident he was. He called them riots, not sieges, and made it sound like it had only happened at one or two of the camps.
    â€œReady to go?” Charles asked, offering me his arm. I threaded mine through it as we started down the hall. Neither of us spoke. Instead I listened to the sound of our footsteps and the faint echo of the soldier’s behind us.
    We got to the suite, the lock clicking shut behind us. I watched Charles as he moved around the room, slinging his suit jacket over the armchair and loosening his tie. “You didn’t have to do that today,” I said. His back was toward me as he stepped out of his shoes.
    â€œOf course I did,” he said, pushing his hair off his face. “I wasn’t about to tell your father the truth. You know what kind of position that would’ve put you in.” He turned, and for the first time I noticed that his cheeks were splotchy and pink, as if he’d just come in from the cold. “No one can find out, Genevieve—no one.”
    â€œIt’s not your problem to fix,” I said. “I did this.”
    After what happened at the construction site, I’d gone to my appointment with the doctor, then met Charles at the reception. The gratitude I’d felt for him had lessened, giving way to a kind of quiet resentment. He had saved me. He believed he had, at least, and I could feel the implied debt between us whenever his hand found mine, his fingers clamped down on my palm. We’re in this together , he seemed to say. I won’t leave you now.
    He pressed his palms to his face, then shook his head. “Is this your way of thanking me? I didn’t want this, you know, when we were married. I didn’t want to feel like I was some horrible, second