Daxton wanted me for something. He had kept me alive for a reason, and whatever that reason was, he wanted me to look like the best version of myself—or what passed for myself—as possible. I suppose it hadn’t gained him much favor, having Lila’s double look like a mess on national television. It showed ill treatment on the government’s part, and when sympathies for Lila were still so strong, it made sense that he would want me looking like I hadn’t just spent weeks in the worst place in the country.
The guards led us through a maze of hallways, and by the time we reached the meeting room, my arms trembled with exertion. Greyson quickly found a chair for me along the edge of the spartan room, and I sank into it gratefully while taking in the faces of the twelve Ministers of the Union.
I had met most of them at one party or another during my tenure as Lila, and I tried to remember their names. Minister Bradley was a given; he’d cropped up too many times in my life as of late for me to ever forget his wandering eyes or handlebar mustache. I’d seen Minister Creed, Knox’s father, from a distance, but had never officially met him—which, in retrospect, seemed odd, considering I was supposed to be his son’s fiancée. I remembered what Knox had told me about his twin brother, and any connection I might have felt toward the senior Creed vanished.
Daxton burst into the room, flanked by a pair of guards. He wore a well-cut dark suit, and his hair was slicked back the way Victor Mercer had worn it in the single photograph I’d seen. I glanced at Greyson to see if he’d noticed, too. He stared at the man posing as his father with more hate in his eyes than I’d thought he was capable of.
“Sorry, am I late?” said Daxton breezily, taking a seat at the head of the table. His guards stood beside him, both with their hands on their weapons. “My deepest apologies, gentlemen. I had a few calls to make. Now, what seems to be the trouble?”
Minister Creed stood. He sat at the opposite end of the table from Daxton, and he squared his shoulders as if readying himself for battle. I doubted he’d ever seen the wrong end of a gun before, but to his credit, he spoke without any hint of apprehension in his voice. “With all due respect, you know exactly what we asked you here for. The evidence the rebels have uncovered—”
“Is completely unsubstantiated,” said Daxton with a dismissive gesture. “Anyone could falsify those documents, and it’s rather convenient that everyone they claim to be connected to the procedure is dead.”
“Very convenient,” agreed Creed, his brow furrowing. “Though far more convenient for you, I’d say.”
Daxton chuckled, and the sound of it sent an icy dread running down my spine. “If we’re going to talk convenience, let’s discuss the fact that your son is the one behind all of this Blackcoats nonsense. If our suspicions must fall on one of our own, you seem far more likely a candidate than me, Minister Creed.”
Creed reddened, and I could tell from his clenched jaw and deadened stare that this wasn’t the first time he’d faced that kind of accusation. “I have proven my loyalty time and time again. If Lennox were in front of me right now, I would not hesitate to execute him like the traitor he is.”
“Well, then. Let’s make that a priority.” Daxton turned his attention toward the others seated at the table. “Gentlemen, tell me you don’t really believe their conspiracy theories. They’re simply trying to sway the public against us.”
“Against you,” corrected Creed. Daxton narrowed his eyes, and one of the guards shifted.
“Believe me, if they take me out, they will make sure you come crumbling down with me,” he said. “If you want to continue to enjoy your current lifestyle, I would highly recommend ignoring their fiction and supporting me.”
“There’s a simple way to get this sorted once and for all, isn’t there?” said Minister Bradley, not bothering to stand as he stroked his mustache. “The girl said she felt a V on the back of your neck. One of you, yes?” He eyed me and Lila.
“The one with the crutches,” said Daxton with a sniff, answering Bradley’s silent question. “Is that what this has come to? Feeling the back of my neck like I’m a common criminal?”
“It would be the easiest way to solve this—dispute,” said Bradley with a shrug, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. As long as he got to keep his job, I supposed it probably didn’t.
“And what will you do if you find I am in fact this Victor Mercer character, as they claim?” he said.
“Well—” Bradley looked at Creed helplessly, and Creed cleared his throat, casting a fleeting look at the armed guards.
“We have all agreed that, should you prove not to be a member of the Hart family, you will be relieved as Prime Minister and indicted for treason. Should you decide not to show us your neck, we must assume the worst, and the results will be the same.”
All twelve Ministers stared at Daxton. They may not have been as influential as he was individually, but together, they formed the most powerful body in our country. I furrowed my brow. It couldn’t be this easy. After all the Blackcoats had risked—it couldn’t possibly be as simple as the Ministers of the Union stripping him of power. I glanced at Greyson. He was next in line for the title of Prime Minister. If he was the one they appointed in Daxton’s place, this war would be over by sunset.
“Very well, then,” said Daxton slowly. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice.” He rose and walked around the side of the table. “Creed, if you’d like to do the honors.”
Something about this wasn’t right—there was too much of a bounce in Daxton’s step, and his tone was lighter than someone facing charges of treason would ever sound. I watched him closely, my nails digging into my thighs. The Blackcoats had played their ace. Now he was about to play his.
Daxton stopped an arm’s length away. “Go on, then,” he said, and Creed lifted his hand, his chin jutting out and his mouth tugging into a frown. Apparently he hadn’t expected to do this himself.
Bang.
The instant his fingertips brushed against the back of Daxton’s neck, a shot rang out, and Creed doubled over. I dropped to the ground, pure fear coursing through me and taking over every instinct and desire I had. Lila shrieked, and as Greyson threw himself over her, the other Ministers shouted, half of them ducking underneath the table.
Bang. Bang.
Creed collapsed, and even from a distance, I could see the pool of blood spreading from his head and torso. Several of the other Ministers stumbled out of their seats and toward the door, but a dozen more guards entered the room, blocking their way and drawing their weapons.
“Now, does anyone else object to me retaining my position as Prime Minister?” said Daxton. The Ministers fell silent. He crossed his arms, tapping the barrel of his gun against his biceps. “Good. I’m sorry to say your services are no longer needed by your country. I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up an amendment granting the Prime Minister—me—full power over the government, and your last act as Ministers of this great union will be to sign it.”
From the inside of his jacket, he pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. A few speckles of Creed’s blood had managed to stain the edge, and Daxton sighed. “Ah, well. Can’t have a revolution without shedding a few drops of blood, can you?”
He tipped me an enormous wink, and I clutched one of my crutches. Knox had said nearly the exact same thing to me only a few weeks before.
“A few of you may stay on as my advisers if I so choose,” he continued, addressing the Ministers, “but the rest of you will make your homes down here for the foreseeable future, until it is safe for men of your rank to return to Washington.”
“Down here?” gasped another Minister—Minister Ferras, whom I had only met once before. “But—”
Bang. Bang.
The second Minister collapsed only a few feet from me, and my stomach heaved. It took everything I had not to be sick.
“Does anyone else feel like rejecting my most gracious offer to protect you from the Blackcoats until the end of this war?” said Daxton.
No one else said a word.
Daxton sniffed. “I do hope this isn’t the end of our good relations, Ministers. It’s been a true honor.”
He unrolled the paper and set a heavy pen directly in the middle. One by one, the Ministers approached and, with trembling hands, signed the amendment granting Daxton complete power over the country. There would be no Ministers of the Union to check him now; no one to tell him no, no one to stop him from doing whatever he wanted, consequences be damned.
He waited until every one of the ten remaining Ministers had signed the paper. Then, reaching down, he dipped Creed’s lifeless finger in the pool of blood, pressing it against the document, as well. Once he had repeated the process with Ferras, he squared his shoulders and smiled like a cat assessing its prey. “There we are. I’m so pleased we’re in full agreement.” Rolling it back up, he tucked it into his pocket. “Now come, Greyson, Lila, Kitty—it’s nearly time for lunch. I’m famished.”
The idea of going anywhere with that murderous monster made me lose any appetite I might have otherwise had, but Greyson and Lila stood, and I reluctantly followed. A dozen guards remained in the room—to wrangle the Ministers, I assumed—while the original pair positioned themselves firmly between us and Daxton. To act as human shields, maybe, but I was having a hard enough time keeping up, and Greyson and Lila clung to one another in fear.
“You do enjoy duck, don’t you, Kitty?” Daxton called over his shoulder as he headed toward the elevator. Another pair of guards joined him, this time leading the way. “I couldn’t remember. If you’d like, I can have the staff make you anything you’d like.”
“Duck is fine,” I said shortly, purposely slowing down. Daxton and the guards didn’t seem to notice, but Greyson did. He let go of Lila and met my slow hobble, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Your arms have to be sore. When we get back, I’ll make sure to find you a wheelchair or—”
“A wheelchair would be nice,” I said, even though I had no intention of giving up my crutches. I took a few more painful hops before stopping completely.
Greyson and Lila did, too. “Here, let me help,” he said, taking my crutches. “They might be too short for you.”
“You’re next in line,” I whispered. “And the Prime Minister has complete power now.”
His frown returned, and though he fiddled with my crutches, he nodded slowly. I reached out to steady myself against the wall.
“The first chance we get, we’re going to kill him.”
Both he and Lila looked at me sharply, but neither had the chance to reply. “Do keep up,” called Daxton from in front of the elevator, and Greyson handed me my crutches. I tested them gingerly. They were taller now, and they did fit a bit better.
The guards circled back around to escort us to the waiting elevator, and as we all piled inside, I used the mirrors to meet Greyson’s and Lila’s eyes. It was up to us now. All we had to do was find a way to kill the most powerful man in the country, and we would win this war for good.
VIII
Oasis of Sand
Lunch was an uncomfortably awkward affair. Daxton insisted on sitting next to me, and he continued to fill my plate with duck, potatoes, salad—every time I took so much as a single bite, he would replace it with another serving.
“You really are too thin, my darling,” he said. “I would hate for anyone to think you’ve been mistreated.”
So I’d been right; that was the reason he’d had me fixed up and made over after all. “What are you going to have me do?” I said, pushing a piece of potato around my plate. I would have taken the rotting food in Elsewhere over this any day if it meant I didn’t have to sit next to him.
“Oh, you know. Nothing too strenuous. You have, after all, had a difficult few days.” He served himself another piece of duck. “You’ll be addressing the people after dinner tonight. Showing them that you’re alive and safe—you know, the usual.”
He wanted me to negate any sympathy Knox’s announcement had created. It was the first smart move he’d made in ages. “What do I get in return?”
“What would you like?” he said jovially. I glanced at Greyson and Lila across the table. Neither had said a word to me, but they had whispered back and forth to one another a few times. Apparently this wasn’t unusual, because Daxton didn’t seem to mind.
“You only need one mouthpiece, right?” I said. “And the people might love Lila, but I’m the one who’s been working with the Blackcoats. With all these—claims about who you are, Lila’s word won’t mean much. But mine, since I’m the one who accused you to begin with—mine is gold.”
“You want me to release Lila,” he said, taking a bite and chewing slowly as he watched me.
“I want you to release Lila and Greyson,” I corrected. “Do that, and I’ll say anything you want.”
“No,” said Greyson, his voice barely above a whisper, but his tone unshakable. He set his fork down. “Lila and I will continue to cooperate if and only if you release Kitty. She’s injured, she’ll have no chance to make it back to Elsewhere, and the Blackcoats are on the brink of starvation. She’ll pose no threat to you.”
I gaped at him. “Greyson—”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” he said to me, and then he looked back at Daxton. “What will it be?”
I stared at the pair of them, my gut twisting with the need to inform them just how important it was that they escape as soon as possible. Daxton wouldn’t let me go, not when I would undoubtedly return to the Blackcoats the first chance I got and report to the world what I had witnessed in the meeting room with the Ministers of the Union. Greyson’s and Lila’s silence could be bought. Greyson had never been much of a fighter, and Lila would never return to the Blackcoats. I didn’t blame her. She’d already risked her life enough.
But my life—my purpose—was tied to this war. And I was determined to keep my word; the first chance I had, I would kill Daxton. I couldn’t do that while they were in the Stronghold with me, not when my failure would inevitably mean their deaths. But as soon as I was alone with him, he wouldn’t be able to use Greyson and Lila against me. And as much as I wanted to survive to see the end of this war and the Blackcoats’ success, that would never happen while he lived.
It was a risk I was willing to take.
They had to know that. They had to understand. But rather than meet my eyes, Greyson stared steadily at Daxton, and in an instant I knew he understood what I was trying to do. And that was why he was making his bargain.
“Interesting.” Daxton looked back and forth between us, the tines of his fork tapping against his plate. “You want to protect them, and they want to protect you. It’s sweet, in a way. We really are one big happy family, aren’t we?”
Lila’s mouth twisted with barely disguised disgust. “She can give your speech tonight, but we want her on a helicopter to D.C. by midnight. You want to prove to the public that you’re really sympathetic and mean us no harm. What better way to do that than to release her? And not only that, but you’ll be sending a clear message to the Blackcoats. You’re not afraid of them. Especially not a seventeen-year-old III.”
“You make a good case, but that isn’t surprising. You could sell sand in the desert, my dear Lila,” he said with a smile that, from anyone else, would have been warm. “Both offers are enticing, and both have their merits. But you forget, I could just as well keep you all.”
“You could,” I said coolly. “But where’s the fun in that?”
He barked with laughter, throwing his head back in an undignified manner that would have made the prim and proper Augusta curl her upper lip. “Indeed. I’ll tell you what. I will accept one of your offers—after Kitty’s broadcast,
provided she follows my script.”
“Which offer?” said Lila, and he shrugged.
“That’s the fun of it, isn’t it? You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Neither Lila nor Greyson seemed to think it was any more fun than I did, but we kept our collective mouths shut, and after lunch ended, I returned to my room. Each of them had a suite down the same hallway, it turned out, but they didn’t invite me into theirs, and I didn’t ask. I wanted to get out of the Stronghold and out from under Daxton’s thumb more than anything, but I couldn’t do it at the expense of their freedom. I wouldn’t.
It was entirely possible I wouldn’t have much of a choice, however, and I spent the rest of the afternoon icing my foot and scanning the news channels, searching for any new messages from Knox or the Blackcoats. I tried to sleep, but the anxiety churning in my stomach kept me from dozing off.
I couldn’t go off script, not if I wanted to have a chance to get Greyson and Lila out of here. In my mind, at least, mine was the better deal. If Daxton let me go, he would have gained nothing from keeping me alive to begin with; but if he released Lila and Greyson, he would have me as a prisoner at his beck and call.
Despite my cautious optimism, I knew the most likely scenario would be Daxton refusing to honor either deal, and all three of us remaining in the Stronghold for the rest of the war. Maybe we would find a way out eventually, but not in time to do much to help the current efforts. For now, I could only hope Daxton’s stupidity in revealing Celia’s mistake bought us the support we needed, the way Knox seemed to think it would.
A knock sounded on my door shortly before dinner. I’d managed to dress myself in something other than flannel pajamas, choosing from the half dozen outfits hanging in the closet. “Come in.”
I wasn’t sure who I was expecting—no one in the Stronghold would listen to me, anyway, if I’d tried to deny them entry—but relief coursed through me at the sight of Greyson. “You look nice,” he said, nodding toward the cocktail dress I wore.