The room was tense and unhappy, people’s expressions ranging from shocked to disenchanted to faces that said this couldn’t get any worse. We’d already had one conversation, the night before, when Ms. Dale and I had brought back four unconscious people—Violet, Owen, Tim, and Desmond. I was glad Violet had been asleep for the argument that had followed. Nobody liked Desmond being here, but try as we might, none of us could think of a solution that didn’t end in the possibility of disaster. We were stuck with her. And we all hated how she’d played us, even if her story was true.
Now, as Owen’s story emerged, it felt like just another blow to our group’s tight-knit dynamics and carefully made plans. I tried to remind myself that everything wasn’t falling apart—that we were not terribly worse off than we’d been before.
Owen stood in front of the room, his expression flat, his words bare. “When I got the coordinates for Tim’s location from Thomas, I didn’t think we would actually find Tim there. I realized how close the coordinates were to Ashabee’s mansion, and, despite knowing it was a bad idea, I reached out to Desmond.”
Everyone in the room gasped except for Violet and me. She reached out under the table to take my hand, squeezing my fingers, but her eyes remained locked on the table surface in front of her. I squeezed her fingers back, knowing how difficult this was for her to hear.
“I told Desmond that I would take her up on the deal she offered Viggo on the night… on the night that Ian died. If she let the rest of the boys go and promised never to hurt them, I would give her the king’s location, the real egg, and… Violet.”
The shocked silence spread across the room like oil and water, broken only by Amber saying in a voice that was half snarl, half whisper, “You told her about the egg?”
Owen looked down, and I saw Violet’s face tighten, but she murmured, “Amber, let him finish.”
Owen swallowed, and it seemed that everybody in the room could hear the sound. “I bargained with her. I told her she had to promise not to hurt Violet, and she could only bring a few guards, even though I knew she wouldn’t honor the first promise for long. I thought—” He stumbled, then his voice grew clear again, and he looked up at the crowd with a frankness I couldn’t help but respect, albeit grudgingly. “I was being reckless, but I thought that if the two of us got her to come out to a remote location with only a few guards, we could take her down once and for all. End all of this. But I knew that Violet would never agree. Desmond taught me well, it seems.” Owen’s tone was a strange kind of soured wistfulness, his admission tainted by whatever guilt was tearing at him. “I knew that if I drove Violet around, and pointed out how close Ashabee’s manor was, she’d want to go. I even resisted at first… I played her.”
He looked at Violet, and then at me, and I met his gaze head on, the urge to hit him temporarily silencing the voice of reason. Violet squeezed my fingers again, and I released Owen’s gaze and shifted my attention to her, noting her watching me from the corner of her eye. Her face was impassive, but her shoulders stooped.
“I know what I did was wrong. I see that now. But it doesn’t change what I did. And I know what you’re thinking. You think that… that Ian’s… that what happened was affecting my judgment, and you’re probably right. But it doesn’t matter. I have to own what I did. So please, just don’t let that affect your decision. I deserve whatever punishment you decide.”
He fell quiet, and the silence grew. I risked a glance around the table, trying to get a read on the room. Ms. Dale’s face was twisted with a scowl, her brows down, her eyes glued to the table. Amber’s cheeks were flushed red, and she was leaning slightly away from Owen, distinctly uncomfortable. Thomas, on the other hand, was staring at Owen, his face in a surprising configuration of openhearted compassion and understanding. I envied Thomas that—so quick to forgive, to understand, even in the face of betrayal.
Owen closed his eyes after a moment, and then exhaled. “I’ll go outside,” he announced quietly in the silence. “Let you all talk.”
He left, the floorboards creaking as he strode determinedly from the room. I kept my hand in Violet’s as the blond man closed the door behind him with a click. Then I heard the boards outside thump as he headed down the stairs, presumably to his tent or to the barn, to await his sentence.
The seconds ticked on as we sat there, the entire group silent save for the sound of breathing and the occasional squeak of a chair.
“How should we handle this?” asked Violet finally.
Her question seemed to rouse everyone from their deep thoughts. Ms. Dale blinked, and then straightened up in her chair. She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess the first thing we should do is decide if he should be punished. After that, we decide what the punishment is.”
“He just admitted to being a traitor. Of course we should punish him.” Amber’s voice was bitter, and I could taste the anger and hurt as she spat the words out. I was surprised by her vehemence, yet also realized that, with how volatile Amber was and her personal history, her feelings made sense. Amber’s father had once tried to sell her hand in marriage in order to settle his debts. I was certain Owen’s betrayal struck a very deep chord in Amber, especially as it pertained to a man selling out a girl he was supposed to care about. Owen would have a long way to go with Amber before he ever earned her forgiveness.
“If you want to blame anyone, blame me,” said Thomas. I frowned, noticing a similar confusion roll across everyone’s faces. “I miscalculated. I thought more highly of Owen’s mental and emotional state than was reasonable for his loss. Siblings are hard to account for. Some are friends while others are…”
He paused, and then looked down at the table. “I’m sorry. I realize that thread of conversation might not be completely relevant.”
“We’re not going to blame you, Thomas,” announced Ms. Dale. “As admirable as it is that you want to take the blame for your friend, I won’t allow it. We need to try and figure out a solution. I’m curious—Violet? What do you think?”
Violet frowned, her brows drawing together. I watched her take a deep breath in, and then another, and recognized she was picking her words carefully. “What Owen did was wrong, but he did it with good intentions.”
“How can we know that for sure?” Amber said, slamming her hand against the table. “He called Desmond and lied about it. Why wouldn’t he lie about this? How do we even know that he hasn’t been working for her all this time?!”
“Because I was there, Amber!” Violet said, her voice rising to a shout.
Amber leaned back, alarm and surprise filtering over her face. Violet licked her lips and looked up, taking in another deep breath, and I reached out to take her hand in both of mine. She gave me an appreciative smile, and then turned back to Amber.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. It’s just, I believe Owen when he says he intended to trap her. Not just because he said so, or because I could see this… desperate need for vengeance in his eyes. When Desmond had us cornered in the basement, we had a fight. At first, he tried to make me stay and help him, but when I refused, he told me to run and save myself. He said he’d made a mistake bringing me. He wanted to face Desmond and all her guards by himself, if he had to. I believe that was his real intention.” Her gaze was hard to read as she looked toward the door, her eyes clearly seeking Owen.
Ms. Dale rocked back in her chair, her arms folded over her stomach as she studied Violet. “We put it to a vote,” she announced after a moment. “All those in favor of exacting punishment on Owen?”
“Aye,” said Amber, her violet gaze hard and uncompromising.
“Aye,” said Ms. Dale, her face grim. She looked at me, and I shook my head. “Opposed?”
“Me.” Violet’s voice was soft, but I heard the thread of steel there. I was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised. Then again, even she seemed a bit surprised by her own admission. She shot a glance at me, her eyebrows drawn high.
“Me too,” s
aid Thomas. “Although, for the record, perhaps I should recuse myself, as my decision is purely emotional.”
“Noted, but this is emotional for all of us, Thomas.” Ms. Dale looked at me. “Viggo?”
I hesitated, knowing that I hadn’t said much—nothing at all since Owen had spoken. It was partially because I wasn’t sure what to say. I was also partially afraid of what I would say.
Even under everyone’s scrutiny, I felt frozen. Torn between anger and guilt. The choice sounded simple—it was just a yes or no—but it wasn’t easy at all. On the one hand, Violet was fine. We had Desmond. Owen’s act hadn’t damaged us, and it had possibly even bolstered our chances of getting valuable intelligence. He’d apologized. On the other hand, he could’ve gotten Violet, and really, all of us here, killed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, breaking the silence. “I need more time. I can’t come up with a decision on it right away.”
“But we’re tied—” started Amber, her cheeks flushing red.
“Viggo has every right in the world to want to weigh a decision like this more carefully,” Ms. Dale admonished, cutting Amber off. Amber froze for a moment, and then clamped her jaw shut, sitting back. “Although, I do have a question: what do we do with him until you reach your decision?”
I considered the question and then shrugged. “Whatever grunt work you can find for him around the camp. Have him chop wood, or put him on cooking duty. Keep him out of the meetings and away from Desmond and anything else important.” I grimaced. “Especially sensitive information.”
“We could make that work, but not for the long term. We’ll need a decision before we move base again.”
I nodded. “Any objections?”
Everyone was silent, and I exhaled, thankful I didn’t have to choose right then.
“All right. And on that note, I—”
“Excuse me, this is where you are having the meeting, yes?” An unexpected male voice from the door caught everyone’s attention, and as one we turned. I felt a deep flash of annoyance to see Cruz standing there, a debonair smile on his face. “Ah, my friends! Of course you are the leaders around this place, huh? You choose to lead by doing! You are indeed people who are worthy of my respect. Where should I sit?”
Violet turned toward me. “Cruz?” she whispered, and I winced. We had talked for so long about what had happened to her that I hadn’t been able to catch her up on the finer points of what had happened to me.
“Why yes, I am,” Cruz exclaimed from behind me, moving over to Violet. “But who is this ravishing beauty? I do not believe we have been properly introduced.”
Violet turned in her seat, her eyes wide at his sudden proximity, and merely at the intensity he radiated. “I’m Violet,” she said, tentatively stretching out her hand. He grabbed it and pulled it to his lips in a gentlemanly kiss, and I resisted the urge to smack him.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said, flashing a smile, and my urge to deck him increased.
“What are you doing here, Cruz?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“This is where all the leaders meet, yes?”
“It… is…” Ms. Dale drawled, shooting me an alarmed glance.
“And you are discussing strategy on your next move, yes?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Perfect! This is exactly where I should be. Do you have a chair for me, or should I just stand?”
Ms. Dale gaped at him, her jaw nearly slamming into the floor. I felt at a loss too—nobody had ever barged their way into our meetings before, not like this. It was unprecedented, and a little disconcerting. We had no rule against it, per se. We had always operated on the trust of the people we had recruited or rescued and had tried to provide safety, training, and vital necessities for them. They trusted our decisions, and we trusted them to follow orders.
Ms. Dale looked to me as if to gauge my reaction, and a look flashed between us that told me that neither of us was ready to deal with the intrusion. I shrugged; she raised her eyebrows at me while shrugging back and jerking her chin toward Cruz, a complicated series of gestures that seemed to express sympathy with the weird situation—but that told me I should deal with it. Well, fine.
I glared at her as she coolly answered Cruz’s original question. “Um, sorry, no extra chairs at the moment.” Cruz nodded and then leaned against the wall, his smile never faltering. When Ms. Dale jerked her chin at him harder, I cleared my throat.
“Hey, Cruz, can I have a word with you?”
“Yes, my friend?”
He was making this difficult. “Outside,” I clarified, getting up and moving toward the door.
“Of course,” Cruz said, his tone sounding a little offended, as though he was surprised I would dare to imply that he hadn’t known what I’d meant the first time.
“What is the matter?” he asked as soon as we were outside. “Am I in your way?”
I tried to think of ways to say this tactfully and came up with nothing. “Cruz, you can’t barge in on our meetings. You just joined. You don’t have the clearance.”
I saw his eyes widen, his mouth turning sullen. “Croft, that is ridiculous! I have every right to be there. And I have lots of information that can help you. I was close to the heart of the Matrian guard at Starkrum. I listened. I heard what was happening—”
I cut him off. “And that’s exactly why we can’t trust you in our command room yet.” He drew a breath to speak, but I continued, trying not to think too hard about why I even needed to have this conversation. I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. “Believe me when I say it’s not personal. Everyone else has had to go through this too. I’m glad to have you here, and I appreciate your input. But if you want to be part of the command chain and sit in on meetings, you’ll have to build up some trust first.”
Cruz looked down, his good humor dampening, and his constant stream of talk dried up for the first time since he’d yelled at me when we’d kidnapped him. I tried to judge whether he would man up, or just resent me, and I couldn’t tell. If his pride was wounded and he was threatened, who knew what he would do? But on the other hand, if this was going to break him down, he wouldn’t be a successful part of our team. I had to know now.
Before he could stop to think, I pressed on. “Look, this is just how we do things here. If you don’t like it, you can move on—we won’t stop you. But if you want to stay, think of it as a challenge. You’ve gotta do what everybody else did. If you work hard and focus, you could do it faster. Better.”
Cruz grunted, and for a moment I was afraid he would still just ignore me, or worse, challenge me to a fight. But then he looked up, and there was fire in his eyes.
“Of course I will do it better,” he said grandly. “Mark my words, Croft—I, Anello Cruz, will make you forget you ever doubted me. You’ll realize that you need my help in no time!”
“Uh, good,” I said, relaxing a little as I realized my ploy had worked… as weird as it was. “Thanks for understanding. Now, I gotta go back in.”
As Cruz still stood there, nodding gleefully, I tried to nudge his attention toward the hall. “The kitchen will be open after the meeting,” I told him, hoping he got the hint. Then, not having time for any more of the argument, I simply slipped away and left him standing, staring, in the hall.
I came back into the meeting to the sight of Ms. Dale shifting through some papers in front of her, then clearing her throat. “Have we received any update from Tiffany?”
“Yes,” said Thomas, “but just a text message, and a short one at that. It reads, ‘Riots in city, relocating to safe place. Will contact ASAP.’”
“Riots?” said Amber, her eyes growing wide. “That’s good news, right? It means the message got out there.”
“It could be good news,” chimed in Ms. Dale, “but until Tiffany contacts us with more details, we’ll hold off on classifying it. Let’s have our scouts keep an eye out for any refugees out of the city, though. We might get good information out of them. We also
need to consider moving our base. Especially with winter coming, we need to find better shelter for people, and that will mean breaking our forces up into smaller groups and working in cells.”
“How much time do you need to scout?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Probably about a day or two,” Ms. Dale replied. “We can’t really use the heloship, as it’s running low on fuel.”
“King Maxen will probably know a good place to check for the kind of fuel we need,” said Amber. “We actually don’t need much. Unlike cars, the heloship actually runs on a specialized cell, one that requires a very small amount of propellant to operate. But regular gas won’t work—only T-136.”
“I’ll have someone ask him, though all but two of the depots we searched today had been emptied, so I wouldn’t expect much. On that note, we did recover eight vehicles, fifty barrels of gasoline…”
Ms. Dale droned on, going over her report. Then the topic changed, discussing the move and areas in which to search. It was toward the end that Dr. Tierney wandered in, heading over to the fire to grab a pot of coffee. We were still operating on minimal electricity for the house, which meant we only had the communal coffee pot over the fire, and it was in use practically twenty-four hours a day.
“All right, that’s all I can think of right now,” Ms. Dale said. “We’ll reconvene tonight and update each other on where we are with organizing our teams and equipment.”
The meeting finished, and we all milled around discussing the various other chores we had overlooked, letting the conversations run into the general brainstorming session we regularly had after a meeting. I was listening to a discussion between Ms. Dale and Violet regarding possibly modifying the two remaining drones, when I noticed Cruz slip into the room, look around, and then make his way over to Dr. Tierney. Curious, I took a step back, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation, but feeling completely justified by the fact that Cruz was supposed to be impressing me—he knew I was going to have eyes on him, so why not start now?