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Knox joined me on stage, but instead of saying anything to the audience, he set his hand on my shoulder and led me away. “Good,” he said. “Lila couldn’t have done it better.”
High praise, considering she had managed to rally the initial support for the Blackcoats from nothing but mild discontent. “Do you think they’ll listen?” I said.
He pressed his lips together as we descended the stairs toward a waiting Benjy, the crowd’s screams ringing in my ears. “They’d better. We can’t do this alone.”
And if we didn’t have the support of the people outside Elsewhere, too, then we were already dead.
II Supply and Demand (#ulink_40dc6b3f-90b9-5c9c-90af-cb35c12399a8)
The highest-ranking Blackcoats gathered in the living room of the luxurious Mercer Manor, a mansion that had been built inside Elsewhere to house Jonathan and Hannah Mercer. It served as our headquarters now, and most of the rebel leaders were hulking and scarred soldiers who appeared extremely out of place beside crystal vases filled with fake flowers and paintings of pastel landscapes. They looked as uncomfortable sitting on the fancy gilded sofa as I felt standing underneath a portrait of Daxton Hart. The way a few of the soldiers were eyeing it, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be there long.
While we waited for Knox to finish up in his office, Benjy joined me and laced his fingers through mine. After my speech, he’d gotten swept up in a discussion with a handful of officers, and we hadn’t had the chance to talk until now. As the others spoke in low voices, I squeezed his hand. “That was terrifying.”
He ducked toward me, his lips brushing my ear. “I can’t believe Knox finally let you tell everyone about Daxton.”
I bristled. “He didn’t let me do anything. We planned it together, and I was the one in front of the cameras.”
Benjy hesitated, and I half expected him to drop my hand. Instead, to my surprise, he kissed my cheek before he straightened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I forced myself to unclench my teeth. It had been a long, stressful morning, and the last thing I wanted was to take my anxiety out on him. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Benjy, more than anyone else in that room, understood why Knox and I fought constantly. As much as Knox had helped me since I’d been Masked as Lila, he had also played fast and loose with my life, at times seeming as if he didn’t care at all whether I made it out of this alive. And while I loved to blame him for it, I hadn’t exactly been as careful as I could have been about my safety, either. But when I took risks, I did so willingly, knowing full well what the consequences might be. When Knox took risks, his own neck was never on the line. It was always mine. And he usually didn’t bother to tell me what he was doing.
More often than not, Benjy was caught in the middle somehow. Knox had had no problem faking his death, sending him to Elsewhere, and putting him at risk time and time again as well, and no matter how often he insisted he did it for Benjy’s safety, I had stopped believing him the moment he first put Benjy in the line of fire by hiring him as his assistant. I was the pawn in this game, not Benjy. I was the III who had no place in the world beyond the rebellion. Benjy was a VI—the highest rank a citizen could attain—and he had a future. A real future. I wouldn’t let anyone, especially not Knox, take that away from him.
But no matter how bitter I was about everything that had happened since I had become Lila Hart, the fact remained that I believed in Knox. I believed he was doing the right thing, and even if I didn’t always agree with his methods—or, more accurately, with how he didn’t seem to trust me with his plans, even when I was a key part of so many—I still knew he wouldn’t sacrifice my life unless he had to. And if my death was the difference between winning the war and losing, I would walk the plank willingly. He knew I would do anything to destroy Daxton Hart and help the people win freedom and equality and real opportunity.
So he used me. And no matter how much I complained, I let him.
We were both too stubborn and too convinced we were each in the right. It worked well when we were on the same page, but when we weren’t, we both used our strengths against each other. And that had yet to turn out well for either of us.
Benjy and I stood in silence, our fingers still intertwined, until at last Knox appeared. He looked even worse than he had earlier, with deep shadows under his eyes and his hair sticking up as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. He stepped in front of the fireplace, with Benjy and me on one side, and his lieutenant, a fierce man called Strand, on the other. I hadn’t liked Strand since he’d first arrested me and Hannah the day the Blackcoats attacked Elsewhere, but Knox trusted him, so I grudgingly tolerated him for now. He had, after all, just been doing his job.
“Now that the country knows Daxton’s real identity, we have to be prepared for a backlash,” said Knox without preamble. “It could go either way. We could gain support—I’m sure we will gain support, after Kitty’s speech. But the government has supporters, too. Powerful supporters who won’t be so willing to lose their Vs or VIs and find themselves on equal ground with the IIs and IIIs. That’s what we’re working against. The brightest and most privileged in the country aren’t interested in equality, and while they’re a small percentage, they have enough power and smarts between them to come up with a countermove to anything we try.”
“So we just have to be smarter than they are,” said Benjy, releasing my hand. “For every move we make, we’ll have to anticipate their countermoves and come up with our own solutions before they realize what they’re going to do. We have to be three steps ahead of them at all times.”
“We’re already two steps behind,” said Strand. “They’ve choked off several of our main supply lines. The few we have left are sporadic at best, and half the time it’s too risky to even attempt deliveries. We may have enough bullets to storm D.C., but without food and medical supplies, there won’t be enough of us left to do it.”
“The citizens of Elsewhere are days away from rioting,” said a fierce-looking woman with a scar running down the side of her face. I recognized her from the Blackcoat bunker in D.C. “If we don’t find a way to feed them, we’ll be dead before the battle even begins.”
She was right. There were thousands upon thousands of former prisoners in Elsewhere who had chosen to stay and fight for the Blackcoats. We had an army at our disposal, but it was an army that could turn on us at any moment if we didn’t give them what we’d promised: a better life than the Mercers and the Harts ever had. So far, we weren’t delivering.
“Is there another way to get supplies here?” I said. Several pairs of eyes turned toward me, and I crossed my arms. I had no military experience and no gift for strategizing, not like Benjy did. But I was excellent at asking stupid questions.
“Such as?” said Strand, barely masking his impatience. He liked me about as much as I liked him.
“Isn’t Elsewhere almost completely surrounded by lakes? Can’t we come in from a direction they won’t expect?” I said.
“That’s an idea,” said Benjy suddenly, and he met my eyes and flashed a smile. It was the same smile he had given me back in the group home every time I’d bothered to help him with my homework, and no amount of applause could warm me from the inside out the way that smile did. “We have a strong defense here, and we know that any strike they mount will come from the south, over land. But the lakes surrounding the rest of the state—we have enough ships under our control to bring in something. It won’t be enough to give anyone a life of luxury, but we’ll have the basics, at least.”
“They’ll be expecting it,” said Strand. “That’s why we haven’t tried it.”
“So we create a distraction. Set up another supply line—make ourselves look desperate. Divert their attention from the water.” Benjy glanced at Knox. “What do we have to lose?”
“Lives, that’s what,” said Strand. “Human lives.”
“People are going to start dying anyway if we don’t do something,” I said. “We’ll ask for volunteers. No one goes who isn’t willing. But we’re all prepared to die for this, or else we wouldn’t be here right now. And I, for one, don’t plan on dying of starvation.”
All eyes turned to Knox. He stared down at the carpet, his arms crossed as he worried his lower lip between his teeth. He was only in his twenties, but in the few months I’d known him, he seemed to have aged a decade.
“If we do nothing, nothing changes,” he said, his gaze not wavering from the ground. “We do what we have to do to feed our soldiers. Benjy, you’re in charge of setting up the new supply line and the diversion. Strand, you assist.” He called out several other names, assigning them to find volunteers for the mission, as well as to round up whatever supplies we had left. By the time he fell silent and the meeting ended, everyone had a job.
Except me.
Benjy turned toward me, his eyes alight with purpose. I hadn’t seen him look so determined since before we’d been sent to Elsewhere, and with as much as Knox and I fought, I was relieved he wasn’t taking his frustration with me out on Benjy. “Do you want to brainstorm with me and Strand?”
“If feeding everyone in Elsewhere depends on Strand and I working together, we’re all going to starve,” I said, only half joking. “I’ll be around when you get back.”
Benjy hesitated and glanced at Strand, who tapped his foot impatiently near the entrance to the kitchen. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Now go before he tries to shoot me or something.”
Benjy gave me a quick kiss and hurried to join Strand, leaving Knox and I alone in the living room. As much as I wanted to be useful, elbowing my way into Benjy’s assignment wouldn’t help anything. He would spend the entire brainstorming session trying to explain something to me or backing me up whenever Strand tried to tear me down, and now that we both had a chance at a future beyond whatever the Harts dictated to us, I refused to hold Benjy back. I’d done enough of that already.
“So.” I turned to Knox. “What do you want me to do?”
Knox moved to one of the abandoned couches and sat down heavily, settling his head in his hands. He had been slowly breaking down over the past couple weeks, and as hard as that alone was to watch, it was even more difficult seeing him struggle to hold it together in front of everyone else. Why he was letting his guard down with me, I didn’t know, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I figured it was some form of a compliment. Or maybe he just didn’t care what I thought of him anymore.
“I want you to explain to me why you thought pardoning Lila in front of the entire nation was a good idea,” he muttered.
I blinked. “Out of all the things I said, that’s what you’re upset about?”
“She’s going to get countless numbers of my men and women killed.”
“So will you. He’s blackmailing her, Knox. She doesn’t have a choice—”
“Of course she does.” At last he looked at me, his eyes narrowed. The dark smudges underneath them seemed even more pronounced than usual. “We all have a choice, Kitty. Every last one of us, and she’s made hers. She’d rather see everyone inside Elsewhere die instead of face whatever consequences Daxton has in store for her.”
“And what if it’s a choice between us or killing Celia? Or Greyson?” I said. “You can’t tell me you’d refuse.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It wouldn’t be easy, but—”
“Right. You’re the one who isn’t afraid to sacrifice a pawn or two if it means winning the game.” I glared at him. “The people love her. You can’t condemn her as a war criminal, no matter what she does. The best way to get around what she’s saying is to do exactly what I did—acknowledge her. Acknowledge the fact that she’s really on our side, but is being blackmailed. It discredits anything that comes out of her mouth.”
“If they choose to believe us. They could easily turn the tables.”
“Our story’s believable,” I said firmly. “Theirs isn’t.”
Silence lingered between us. He stared at me, and pinned by his unwavering gaze, I felt more exposed than I had in front of the camera that broadcast my face to millions. “Do you understand how perception works?” he said at last.
“I’m not an idiot,” I said, though I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. Predictably, Knox’s eyebrow shot up, and he smirked humorlessly.
“Depends on who you ask, which is exactly my point. To us, the truth is obvious. Lila is being blackmailed. She doesn’t believe a word of what she’s saying. But to others, especially those who don’t want a war—who are content with their place in society and refuse to acknowledge the cruelty committed against the lower ranks—they see what they want to see, and they’ll eat up anything that affirms their beliefs. Daxton knows that. He may not be a VI, but he knows how to manipulate the public—something he learned from Augusta, possibly, or perhaps it’s an innate talent that made her choose him in the first place. And while we know how, too, he got there first. It’s harder to disprove a lie than it is to tell people the truth from the beginning.”
“Then we stick to our story,” I said. “We don’t pander or tell the country what they want to hear. We tell them the truth, over and over if we have to. Daxton will slip up eventually, or Lila will find a way out. Whatever he’s holding against her—”
“She’ll still be responsible for the deaths of countless people.”
“And so will you.” I crossed my arms tightly. “We’re all going to be responsible for whatever happens next, so we better make sure things go our way. Lila isn’t the enemy. She’s never been the enemy. And if that’s how you decide to start treating her, then we will lose every inch of support from the people that we’ve gained since the battle, and we will eventually lose the entire rebellion. Sacrifice a pawn to win the war, remember?” I shot. “The pawn isn’t always a person. Sometimes it’s your damn pride.”
Knox stared at me, his jaw clenched and his fingers digging into the arm of the couch. For a moment I thought he might lash out at me, but if he had any desire to do so, he managed to swallow it. Instead he said in a shaky but measured voice, “If you want to protect someone who’s trying to get us all killed, then you better make sure she doesn’t succeed. Whatever happens as a result of her words and actions—that’s now on you, is that understood?”
“Just add it to the list,” I said. “I didn’t kill Victor when I could have—that’s on me. I told the Blackcoats the truth about him being Masked—that’s on me, too. Lila’s just another drop in the bucket.”
“Until millions of people are dead because you have no idea what you’re doing,” he said. “Must be a hell of a bucket.”
“You know what would be great?” I snapped. “If you could stop treating me like a problem for five minutes. I’m not completely useless, you know. You never would’ve taken over Elsewhere if I hadn’t helped.”
“Debatable,” he said coolly.
“Seriously doubtful. Either way, doing it your way has gotten us here—with the supply lines cut off, and with thousands of people on the verge of anarchy, ready to hang you by the neck and flay you alive because you can’t feed them. And I just bought you a few extra days.”
“What do you want, a medal?” he said. “If they come after me, they’ll come after you, too.”
“Probably. But now we have a little more time to make sure that doesn’t happen, don’t we?” I headed toward the archway. “If you could give those speeches yourself, you would. But we both know you can’t, so that’s why I’m here. To give a voice to the rebellion now that Victor controls your first pick. Like it or not, you need me, Knox, and the sooner you realize it, the easier this’ll be for the both of us.”
He was on his feet in an instant, and he crossed the room faster than I’d seen him move since the battle. Grabbing my arm, he stared down at me, his skin hot against mine. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d willingly touched me, as if he were trying to deny that I really existed, and I told myself that was why I didn’t immediately pull away from him. Because it was nice to be acknowledged.
“You want to be more than a pawn?” he said. “Then be useful. Start figuring out how to keep the promises you’re making to the people. If you were still one of them, what would you want on the other side of this? What does this ideal world of yours really look like?”
I glared at him. “If you don’t know how to give the people their freedom, then why are we doing this in the first place?”
“Because people like you do,” he said. “I can win us this war, if you’ll let me. That’s my place in all of this. Yours could be so much more if you stopped fighting me all the time and started thinking of solutions.”
“Then stop pretending I’m incompetent and give me that chance,” I snapped.
“Stop acting incompetent, and I will.”
Yanking my arm from his grip, I muttered a curse under my breath and stormed out of the room, making my way out the front door and into the frigid winter air. The days when Knox and I saw eye to eye were clearly over, and never in my life had I been more aware of how easy it was to believe in the same principles, yet not be on the same team. I wanted to be on Knox’s team. I wanted to be on his team more than anything in the world right now, but he refused to let me.
Maybe Knox felt the same way about me. As I marched down the muddy main street of Elsewhere, past men and women dressed in orange and red jumpsuits, my gut twisted, rejecting the thought. I wasn’t completely unjustified, and after all, despite his many good qualities, Knox had never been the understanding or forgiving type. But from where he stood, I knew damn well I’d been a problem. Although Lila had copped an attitude, she had always done what he and Celia had told her to do, nearly losing her life as a reward for her cooperation. I was the one always questioning him. I was the one refusing to do what he told me to, because I was sure I had a better way, and he wouldn’t tell me why it wasn’t acceptable.
And though I’d listened to him upon occasion, I usually did what I wanted to do, never mind what he thought. Time and time again, throughout the months we’d known one another, I’d gone against his wishes. Most of the time, things had turned out all right, though he’d often had to scramble to fix whatever problems I’d caused in the process. But that was what our relationship was like: I caused problems, and he fixed them.
I paused in front of a burned-out shell of a building that used to be a bunk, the ruins black and charred. In all fairness, the problems I’d caused had paved the way for the progress the Blackcoats had made so far. I may not have been terribly obedient, but Knox always found a way to make the best of it, opening doors and finding opportunities we wouldn’t have had otherwise. Sending me to Elsewhere for my insubordination, as much as I still loathed him for it, had given him a reason to come here and spy for the rebellion without raising suspicion.
We were already a team, I realized. A messed-up, dysfunctional team, but a team nonetheless. And that, ultimately, was why I couldn’t leave Elsewhere. If I joined Hannah in some cottage in the woods like Knox wanted me to, he would have no one to blame when things went to hell. And blaming someone instead of taking responsibility for his own weak plans—that was how Knox kept his ego functioning. And without the belief that he alone could make this revolution happen, I was sure he would have stepped aside and let someone else handle it a long time ago.
I shook my head. It was ridiculous, but if he wanted me to try to do more, then I would. I had no idea how to form a government, or how to make good on the promises I’d made the people, but I would do my best. That was all any of us could do anyway.
“Hey, you. Hart.”
I began to turn, but someone shoved me from behind, and I stumbled into a pile of blackened wood. “It’s Kitty Doe, actually,” I said as I righted myself and brushed the charcoal off my trousers. I turned, facing the woman and three men who had me cornered. Perfect. I tightened my hands into fists, but that wouldn’t do me much good against all of them.
“Doesn’t matter what you call yourself. You’re still as much of a Hart as the rest of them.” One man, squat and with a ragged mustache, stood in the front, his lips pulled back to expose several gaps in his smile where his teeth must have fallen out. That wasn’t uncommon here. No use in the government paying for trivial things like dental work when the citizens of Elsewhere would probably die soon anyway.
“I’m an Extra,” I said. “I didn’t know who my parents were until—”
“You think we care about that, either?” The man stepped closer, his dark eyes narrowing. “Doesn’t matter who you were. Just matters who you are now. And you’re a Hart.”
A second man cracked his knuckles, and inwardly I groaned. This couldn’t be happening.
“The Blackcoats are on your side,” I said. “I’m on your side.”
“Then why do you sit up there in the manor all pretty and comfortable while the rest of us wallow in the mud like pigs?”
“You’re welcome to leave anytime you’d like,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” said the woman. “Let’s walk out into the wilderness in the dead of winter with nothing but the clothes on our backs.”
I gritted my teeth. She had a point. It was hard enough walking away from the life you knew when you had the ease of doing so without risking your life. “I’m trying my best. We’re all trying our best,” I said.
“How about a little incentive?” said the first man, and he grabbed my hair and shoved me to my knees. I yelped, and a heavy boot connected with my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs.
“Let go of her immediately,” demanded a deep, familiar voice, and the former prisoner hesitated.
“Make me.”
I tightened my abdominal muscles, preparing myself for another blow, but it never came. Instead I heard the click of a gun, and my attacker went still.
“Fine,” he growled, releasing me. “Worthless bitch.”
I fell to my hands and knees, wheezing as my hair fell into my face, forming a curtain around me. If I’d had the breath to reply, I would have, but instead they all slunk away without another word, their boots crunching against the frozen ground. It was probably for the best. I didn’t want anyone else to die because of me.
“You’re never going to be one of them, you know.” A gloved hand appeared in front of me, and I took it, letting my defender help me up.
“It’s not my fault my biological father was a Hart,” I muttered, wincing as I touched my ribs. Rivers, one of the former prisoners who had been lucky enough to be picked as a low-level guard, touched my chin and inspected my face. His blue eyes were the same shade as mine, and I stared back. I’d been beaten up enough in the past month that another set of bruised ribs wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it was the way they were talking, the things they were saying—that was what made a hollow form in the pit of my stomach. Was this what they all believed?
“It’s not your fault you’re a product of Daxton Hart, but it is your fault you’re up there instead of down here,” he said, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you to the doctor before they come back with friends.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” I muttered. “I need something to do.”
“You mean getting yourself beaten to a pulp isn’t enough?” said Rivers.
“I’ve been doing that for weeks. I want to help.”
