The Swan Riders by Erin Bow

up my throat. Squeezing me just under my chin, like a hand closing.
    â€œI recognize bits and pieces.” I swallowed, but it felt blocked, and my breath was too shallow. Something was wrong. “Talis, I can’t follow at such a speed.”
    Back to us, Talis shrugged. “Sorry. I’m just eager to get this . . . updated . . .” His voice drifted off, distracted.
    Sri was still looking at me. “Talis. You’re scaring her.”
    Not him, not exactly. My country, flashing before my eyes at speeds too fast to follow, but even so falling piece by piece, falling apart. My country. I’d give my whole life in service to my country. It was why I was; it was who I was.
    Talis had turned around, his fingers leaving the gel with a tiny pop. “Sorry,” he said, genuinely this time.
    â€œWhat’s happening?” I managed. “Calgary. I saw my mother—”
    â€œAh. Well. Turns out the PanPols are just the teensiest bit upset, on account of someone was mean to their princess.” The screens behind Talis were falling quiet. But my heart was pounding.
    Me. That princess was me.
    â€œA lot of talking heads questioning the value of the Precepture system, if it can’t keep its hostages safe. A lot of rumblings in the government, which they probably don’t know that I’m totally tapped into, basically on the same theme. Upshot is, the new king refused to turn over his son. Spirited him away to the royal apartments—”
    â€œAt Banff,” I said.
    â€œSo: Bamphf!” said Talis, spreading his hands in pure punnish glee. “Well, no, actually: seventy miles out, central Calgary. Far enough that the wee prince laddie wasn’t hurt. Close enough to scare the pants off his daddy.”
    â€œAnd big enough to make the point,” said Sri.
    â€œSee?” Talis grinned and flared his fingers. “All sorted. Told you I was on it.”
    â€œBut they’re upset.” Pain was running in bolts from my hands to my shoulders. My words came out childish and small. “Because they saw—everyone saw.”
    â€œYeah, everyone saw,” said Talis, irritated. “The Cumberland broadcast shot right to the top of the charts.”
    The Cumberland broadcast had been of an apple press. They had strapped my hands to the bottom block of an apple press. Then they’d lowered it.
    Talis was still talking. “Not to mention your mother’s abdication. She gave an unnecessarily moving speech about her daughter. Her brave and beautiful daughter, who had become AI.”
    â€œThey’re—” But I found I could no longer speak. The feeling that squeezed around the corners of my jaws was stronger, tightening like a noose. It was fear, it was shame. I could feel it push my eardrums outward.
    â€œTalis,” said Sri.
    â€œYeah, I see it. Easy, Greta. Come on. Deep breath.”
    There were bands around my lungs.
    Talis swept one finger along under my collarbone, up the side of my throat: the path of the affinity bridge, which connected the datastore to the webbing in the brain. A feather touch, a shiver. But it almost knocked me over.
    I staggered.
    Francis Xavier wrapped an arm around my chest and pulled me back against his body. I shut my eyes, but I could feel Talis stepping close to me. Sensors arcing out from his fingers like plasma from the surface of the sun.
    â€œWhat is it, Greta? What are you remembering?”
    â€œOh, guess. ”
    He’d seen me being tortured. He shouldn’t need me to say it.
    â€œI know.” His thumbs moved under my cheekbones. “I know it was horrific. But Greta, you survived it. You’re the person who survived it. Come on. You’re still that person. Be that person.”
    My face was flushed under his hands. My body shook. And I remembered, and remembered, and remembered. But it didn’t feel like layers building up. It felt like a stripping