I nodded, but inside I was feeling slightly anxious. This was a lot to take in. A room that I could change to my own desires, complete with a computer program assistant who could possibly be spying on me? Not to mention the idea that I was going to be hosting meetings with the Knight Commanders once a month…
Scipio help me, only five minutes as Champion and I was overwhelmed—and certain that this wasn’t even the tip of the spear.
“Is there anything else I need to know about the room?” I asked.
Astrid nodded, and hit the No button under a line that read, Accept changes to the room? Seconds later the wall, table, and vase had been whisked away, leaving the floor empty and vacant again. I watched as she selected the Level button and keyed in the number 65, suddenly wondering why she was doing it manually.
“Hey, can’t Cornelius handle this?”
She chuckled. “He’s programmed to do a lot, but someone decided that giving him too much control wasn’t necessarily a good thing, as even computer programs can break down or get glitches. You’ll need him to help sift through the massive amounts of historical data we’ve collected, should it come up, but you don’t need him to work the room when this terminal can do it just as well. This also gives you peace of mind that Cornelius won’t bug out and decide a wall was needed right in the middle of your bed.”
I shuddered at the image and took a quick glance at her, trying to decide whether she was joking or not. I couldn’t tell, and something told me I didn’t want to know, so I didn’t ask. I wouldn’t sleep for a month if I learned a councilor had been killed by their virtual assistant.
She hit the enter key, and the floor immediately started to shake as the entire room began to lift up. My new home, it seemed, was also a giant elevator. “It runs all the way through the top of the Citadel to the very top of the Tower. You can exit through any of the marked doors—” she pointed at the six rectangles with designations over them as they slid by “—and be in one of the six main elevators. It just has to be lined up in between two floors, as that was where the doors were built leading to the normal elevators. You can give whomever you want permission to come and go, if you desire, but be aware that the defense system is designed to use lethal force, so you should never send anyone in here if you haven’t authorized them to enter. The defenses will be configured to your new home as best as possible, but you will have some say in that configuration. That section is found under a subheading in the Appliances option. Cornelius can walk you through it. Now, do you have any questions for me?”
I stared at her, and then crossed my arms over my chest. I had been momentarily distracted by the intriguing possibilities of my new home, but now I remembered my questions from earlier.
I wanted to know what the council had really uncovered, and what they were doing about it.
“I want to know what the council really found in their investigation into my mother’s death,” I said roughly.
Astrid’s smile wilted, leaving a sour look on her face. “Liana…” she said, trailing off. “Look, I know you think that your mother and Min-Ha’s deaths are connected to Ambrose’s murder, but I led this investigation personally. I questioned the designers and the techs thoroughly, with Scipio watching their emotional states through their nets to see if they were lying. I had multiple experts from the Mechanics Department and IT running tests and comparing their findings, independent of each other. The sentinel was torn apart and meticulously studied. Their deaths were tragic and horrifying, but I am convinced that they were accidents.”
My brows drew together in confusion at her words. She had personally run the investigation? And hadn’t found any evidence that the sentinel had been stolen, or that it was being controlled by anyone else? I fought back a groan as I realized that there were only two things that made sense: Astrid had forced the investigation to a conclusion that she wanted because she was working with the legacies, or… she had discovered exactly what she was meant to, so that the legacies could continue to move around freely. Of the two of them, the last was far, far more likely.
Even if I didn’t want to believe it.
“So you’re saying that there was no one actually controlling the sentinel, but that it was supposed to be an obstacle in the Tourney… and just went haywire?” I asked, needing the confirmation. If Astrid wasn’t lying, then was it possible someone above her was? The only people who had been above her in this had been the council… A chill hit me as I realized that it was entirely possible that someone on the council was a legacy, or controlled by one.
“Unless you count Scipio, then no,” Astrid said, folding her arms over her chest. “But if you don’t believe me, feel free to ask Cornelius for access to the council file and take a look at the reports yourself. It’ll be filed by date, but you can use general search words, like your mother’s name, or even the sentinel—although that would pull up other information as well.” She speared me with a sharp look and added, in a dry tone, “Do let me know if you find anything that I might have missed.”
“I’ll do that,” I replied, refusing to be cowed by the steeliness of her gaze. I knew I had upset her by insinuating that she had missed something, but I didn’t care. I wanted to find out what had happened. I didn’t want to believe there was another enemy legacy on the council—that made everything even more dangerous. I supposed it was possible that the legacy group just had a lot of well-placed connections and had been able to set all of this up, cover-up and all? Could the entire council have been duped? It was also a possibility, but I couldn’t see how. I needed those files.
I looked up to see Astrid staring at me expectantly, waiting to see what I would ask next, and thought for a second. If she was truly satisfied with the investigation, continuing to question her would just make her angry. So I moved on to my next question, one that wasn’t as pressing, but was burning in the back of my mind all the same.
“Whose idea was it to make the announcement during my mother’s funeral?”
She rolled her eyes, but again, I got the distinct impression that it wasn’t directed at me. “Look, kid, I didn’t agree with that decision, and fought against it, but the council was adamant that all of this be put to bed… if you’ll excuse my awful choice of words there. So was Scipio. He felt it would be good for the Citadel’s morale, and the Tower itself, to get the Knights represented so that the department could get back on track. And since they planned to announce the conclusion of the investigation at that point anyway, they figured why not let them down and then try to lift them back up?”
I looked away. Her answer made a certain amount of sense from the council’s point of view—they didn’t want morale to fall—but I didn’t like the greasy sensation of it, which made my stomach twist. “It wasn’t right,” I replied, and to my surprise, Astrid nodded.
“I agree. I’m sorry that I sprang that on you, Liana, but I was under orders from the council and from Scipio himself. You understand?”
I met her earnest look, and then sighed. I did understand. It wasn’t her fault that she was following orders; it was the way we were all brought up. You did what Scipio told you to because if you didn’t, then you were clearly an enemy of the Tower.
But what Astrid didn’t know was that Scipio’s will wasn’t exactly his own these days. I’d seen him manipulated once already—at my trial for the murder of Devon Alexander—and knew from Lacey that there was another group controlling him even more directly, influencing his decisions. I just wasn’t certain they’d go as far as to influence when and where information was distributed. If they were going to affect anything, they would’ve made Scipio tell the council to reject me and re-do the Tourney, so their chosen candidate could win instead.
Speaking of which…
“I understand,” I said carefully, wondering just how to ask her what I wanted to know. “How did this even happen?” was what I finally decided on.
“You mean, how did you become the Champion?” I nodded, and Astrid sighed. “I’ll admit that you ente
ring the arena armed with an illegal weapon didn’t earn you a lot of favor, especially with the Medica. Chief Surgeon Sage was very upset to learn that the voltage on those little shocker things could’ve easily killed a human being, and argued that for all anyone knew, you’d brought them to use against the candidates, and just happened to save lives instead. IT was also dead-set against accepting the results. I don’t know what you did to that woman, but Sadie Monroe hates you, kid.”
That was unsurprising; she had hated me since the day she met me. It was surprising, though, to hear that Marcus Sage had sided with her. The Chief Surgeon of the Medica was over a hundred years old, and had seemed mostly disinterested with my trial. Now, it was very possible that his concerns were what Astrid said—merely based on safety—but still, I marked it and filed it away. No one was above suspicion, and if Sage was somehow involved with the legacy group, then I wanted to know.
“Anyway,” Astrid continued, shifting her weight to her other leg and crossing her arms, “your saving grace was that you admitted to everything.”
“I did?” I asked, unable to hide my confusion. The interview after the Tourney was one giant blur, and I honestly couldn’t recall exactly what I had told her by way of explanation.
“Yes, you did, remember? You told me that you overheard a group of designers talking about how they were planning to use a sentinel for the final challenge and created the shockers to stop it, to give yourself an advantage. My favorite part was when you said, ‘Yes, I cheated. But if I hadn’t, then more people would be dead. You’re welcome.’”
“I said that?” I looked away, surprised at hearing my own words for what seemed like the first time and shocked that I had been able to fabricate something that believable and had delivered it in such a way. Scipio help me, it seemed so callous now. Hours after my mother’s death and I had been acting like that? “Wow.”
“I agree,” Astrid said. There was a long pause, and then she added, “You’re a good kid, Liana, with a kind and strong heart. It’s something the Citadel needs, more than you might think. But I also know that you’ve been pushed to a breaking point, and I want to tell you that you’re not alone. You can come to me if you need help, or advice… or even just a shoulder to cry on.”
I rubbed my hands together and nodded absently. I’d heard those words a thousand times by now, and a certain amount of bleak hopelessness rose up to greet them before they could ever settle in, reminding me that she was wrong. I was alone. Completely and abjectly alone. Maybe not in the physical sense, but certainly in my soul, where I was trapped by memories of what had been and dreams of what could’ve been.
And there wasn’t anything anyone could do about that.
But still, I gave her the empty platitude I had given everyone else. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to do so, if I feel the need.”
Her mouth flattened into a thin, displeased line, and I could tell that she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press. “Good. Now, before we finish here, there is one little matter of who will be serving as your Lieutenant. Traditionally, the Champion picks someone from their team. I understand that Grey Farmless is quite popular. Will he be taking on that role?”
I considered the question for a second. Leo would be a good Lieutenant, but I knew he wouldn’t want the job. He’d helped us during the Tourney because we were being forced to do it, but his heart and soul were dedicated to the mission of helping Scipio, and being Lieutenant would only distract him from his cause.
Besides, Maddox was my first instinct. Not just because of Leo’s situation, although that was a part of it, but because she was the best fit for the job. She’d dreamed of being a Knight since she was little, and though she hadn’t been educated inside the system, she knew it inside and out, thanks to her mother’s education and her own determination. Beyond that, she had tested out of being a Squire within two days—an impressive feat, considering she didn’t have a photographic memory or enhanced reflexes like Leo did.
“No, he will not,” I said, feeling confident about my decision. “Maddox Kerrin will.”
“The undoc?” Astrid asked, her eyes widening in alarm. “I’m not sure the other Knight Commanders will like that, considering she’s the daughter of two people they consider to be traitors.”
“Camilla Kerrin was not a traitor,” I snapped, wanting to defend not only Maddox, but the memory of her mother as well. Cali might have run away from the Citadel, but she’d had little choice in the matter; she had done what she did to save her child and stay alive. “She tried to alert the council to Devon’s treachery, but he found out and ran her off. She fled, pregnant with their child, and hid, knowing that Devon would kill her long before she could get to the council. So you will talk about her with respect, and tell the Knight Commanders to treat Maddox as if they were talking to me.”
Astrid’s eyebrows shot straight up in surprise, but behind it I could see a glimmer of respect that was steadily growing, and mentally patted myself on the back. “I will do that, but keep in mind, kid, I go back to teaching in the Academy now. My investigation is over, and I’m retired. Maddox is going to have to earn the Commanders’ respect in her own way, but I’ve seen the vid files from the Tourney, and I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t certain how to respond to that, so I just smiled and nodded.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Yes,” I said. There was one more thing I needed, and that was a step toward finding the legacy group. Which meant looking into every investigation—not just my mother’s. “I need everything you have on the investigation into Ambrose’s murder, including copies of your personal notes. I’ll be taking over and handling it personally.”
She frowned, a line forming between her gray eyebrows. “Liana, are you sure? You were on his team, and while you’ve been eliminated as a suspect, you aren’t exactly impartial.”
“I’m sure,” I told her, ignoring her complaints. I needed everything she had and more if I was going to find the people who’d killed my mother and Ambrose. I knew that the same people were behind it—it was the only thing that made sense—and I needed to find them. Not only because I wanted to know what they had done to Scipio, but also to punish them for what they did to my mother and Ambrose.
I couldn’t decide whether it helped or hurt that I was being blackmailed into doing it by Lacey Green, the head of the Mechanics Department, who was holding evidence that made it appear as if I had tampered with Scipio. Originally, the deal had just been for me to keep her cousin, Ambrose, safe, but when I had failed at that, I had promised that once I won the Tourney, I would do everything in my power to bring his killers to her for justice. And I still intended to do so.
I just wasn’t sure if anyone I found would make it back to her in one piece. I supposed I would have to make an effort to get her a few of the people who were responsible, just so she wouldn’t have me and my friends brought up on charges of terrorism. I really didn’t want to become public enemy number one again.
“Very well,” Astrid said after a long moment. “I’ll send them to you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Now, if you don’t mind… I’d like a little time alone in my new room.”
“Of course,” she replied with a nod. “Champion Castell, it has been my privilege to serve you.” She bent her head forward, offering a small bow, and then straightened. “Cornelius, the door?”
A door slid open to the right, and Astrid departed, leaving me blissfully and completely alone.
5
“I am ready to serve you,” Cornelius announced as soon as Astrid had left. “Shall we go over the tutorial?”
I sighed and closed my eyes, rolling them back into my skull with my annoyance. I had forgotten that I wasn’t actually alone. In fact, I had been left to deal with a new flavor of problem: was Cornelius actually safe, or was he spying on me?
Or… was he secretly an AI fragment, like Jasper and Jang-Mi, but being forced to impersonate an unas
suming assistant program?
If so, that would be super convenient, if a little weird. Because if Devon Alexander had been hiding an AI fragment, wouldn’t his followers have come into the room and removed it before the next person moved in?
I wasn’t sure, but I was beginning to grow tired of all the supposition and guesswork. I wanted data, evidence… a clear way forward that I could use to track down the people responsible for everything. Which didn’t mean coming up with more things to guess at. It meant going over each piece of evidence and fact that we had, filling in the pieces of the puzzle step by step, and treating no detail as insignificant or unrelated.
But first, I needed to understand the ins and outs of my new home, and that meant dealing with the program installed inside it first. “Oh, Cornelius,” I sighed, folding my arms across my chest. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I do not show any matches for that query. Please refine and specify.”
His reply was given in that same ingratiating voice that was just a hair too chipper in my opinion, and I sighed again, rubbing my forehead with one hand. The tone made me fairly confident that he wasn’t an AI fragment, but that didn’t alter my belief that he could be a risk if someone managed to hack into his system.
“Who has access to you?” I asked, curious about what he would tell me. “Is it possible that someone has hacked your program?”
“Only the Champion has access to me,” Cornelius replied. “I have been successfully hacked only twice during my lifetime, in tests performed by our internal security teams to check my systems and firewalls. The tests were designed to find any faults and fix them, and none have been found in the subsequent seventy-five years. Would you like to see the reports?”
I considered his question, then realized that it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be convinced that he was all right until Quess and Leo checked him out. Which meant I should probably get them up here sooner rather than later. My period of solitude was going to be shorter than I would’ve liked, but I needed to get over it.