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“You just did this morning.” Instead of leading me back up the hill, he guided me into the maze of narrow alleyways behind the buildings, away from the main streets.
“That wasn’t helping. That was just—talking.”
“It did more to help than anything the Blackcoats have done since the battle,” said Rivers, and I huffed.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Had it been almost anyone else, I would have turned right around and returned to the relative safety of the main road. But Rivers had protected me time and time again, and if he was going to kill me, he would have done it ages ago. Besides, though we’d never voiced it aloud, we both suspected the unique color of our eyes wasn’t by chance. If Daxton Hart had fathered me with a prisoner in Elsewhere, then it was possible he’d had other affairs. If I couldn’t trust my potential half brother, then I couldn’t trust anyone, and I wasn’t that far gone yet.
We passed a few lone citizens in the darker alleyways, and though they all stared, none bothered to approach us or offer help. It was clear Rivers was right. I wasn’t one of them, and I never would be.
But I wasn’t a Hart, either, and I was barely a member of the Blackcoats as it was. I didn’t belong down here, but I also didn’t belong in the manor. And that was far scarier than anything Daxton could throw at me—the realization that no matter what rank I’d earned or whose face I wore, I had no idea where I really belonged.
III Crack (#ulink_fcaa61f5-fc3f-5b7d-a144-52cf14c1e4d5)
We wound through the alleyways in the heart of Elsewhere until, at last, Rivers opened a door and gestured for me to enter. It led into a building I’d never been inside before, and the smell of stale chemicals burned my nostrils.
“Do I even want to know what this place is?” I said, scowling as Rivers led me into a dank storage room filled with what looked like old towels.
“Better if you don’t. Then you might have a chance of sleeping tonight,” he said as he tugged on a rusted metal shelf. With a loud creak of protest, it swung aside as if it were on a pair of hinges, revealing a door. “I found this when I was still doing a work order here as a prisoner. It’s an entrance into a network of tunnels.”
I blinked in surprise. I’d thought the tunnel under Mercer Manor—the same that had protected any number of citizens during the Battle of Elsewhere—had been the only one. A last resort for the Mercers, if the prisoners ever started an uprising the guards couldn’t handle. Hannah had shown it to me when she’d discovered that her husband planned to kill me on sight, and she’d insisted it let out somewhere safe beyond his reach. It had never occurred to me that there could be others. Mercer Manor had been protected—no citizen could have accidentally stumbled upon the entrance to the tunnel in their cellar. But this was right here, staring me in the face, where anyone could’ve found it. Where Rivers had found it.
“How far does it go?” I said, stunned. Suddenly the ache in my side from where steel-toed boots had connected with my ribs didn’t seem to hurt as badly.
Rivers scratched his head, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “Not sure. I know some of the tunnels lead into the other sections, at the very least. For all I know, it spreads throughout Elsewhere.”
I took a hesitant step into the darkness, and Rivers produced a flashlight, illuminating the narrow passageway. The ground was hardened from countless footsteps, but clumps of dirt hung from the ceiling, giving me the sickening sensation that it could collapse at any moment. “Have you told Knox?”
“Yeah. Even gave Strand a tour. They didn’t seem interested.” Taking my elbow, Rivers led me inside, swinging the shelf and door into place behind us. The tunnel sloped steeply, descending far belowground.
“Why not? This could solve the supply lines issue, if one of the tunnels leads out of Elsewhere,” I said. “Not even Knox is that shortsighted.”
“Couldn’t tell you. Asking questions isn’t my job,” said Rivers, giving me a significant look as we approached a fork.
I hesitated. “But you think it’s mine?”
Rivers shrugged and headed down the left branch. “Maybe they have a good reason for not using it, but like you said, it could solve all our supply line problems. What’s going on between the two of you, anyway?”
“Who? Me and Strand?”
He snorted. “I know exactly what’s going on between you and Strand. You both hate each other so much that it’s a miracle the walls don’t ice over when you two are in the same room.”
I made a face. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’ve seen machine guns that are more subtle. I mean you and Knox, you goof. What’s going on there?”
“Nothing,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. Rivers raised an eyebrow, and I raised one right back. “I mean it. Nothing’s going on there. He was my fake fiancé, and now he’s the head of the Blackcoats and wants to send me off to join my mother in hiding instead of letting me fight, but he knows he’ll lose support if he doesn’t have a mouthpiece who can string a sentence together, so here we are.”
“Yes, I know all of that, thank you. I mean what is it you two aren’t telling the rest of us?”
I eyed him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I expected some kind of quip in return, but instead Rivers studied me. Even in the dim light, I could see the blue in his eyes. He must have been able to see it in mine, too. “You know he’s crazy about you, right?” he said.
“If you mean I make him crazy, then yes, I know,” I said carefully.
“That, too,” he agreed with a grin. “But we both know what I’m talking about.”
Except I didn’t. All I could see when I looked at Knox was the way he viewed me as nothing more than an annoyance. Our so-called friendship had been going steadily downhill since Augusta’s death, and now we could barely say a word to each other without bickering. That wasn’t him being crazy about me. That was us driving each other insane.
“I’m with Benjy,” I said resolutely. “I love him.”
“Doesn’t stop Knox from wanting you.”
“Knox is better than that,” I snapped, and as soon as I realized what I’d said, I clamped my mouth shut. It was too late, though, and Rivers grinned.
“Is he? Wouldn’t have thought it from the way you talk about him.”
I gritted my teeth. There was no winning with Rivers, not when he seemed to be so damn sure and I had no way of defending myself. I had no idea how Knox really felt, but it didn’t matter. My loyalty to Benjy would never waver, and the insinuation that I would happily betray my best friend for someone who barely seemed to like me made me bristle.
“You think you’re being funny, but you’re not. This isn’t some sideshow to entertain you. This is my life. Benjy has been there for me in a way no one else ever has. He’s my family, and you don’t just push family aside for some itch you want to scratch. That’s not how real love works. Real love is support, even when you’re fighting. Real love is honesty, even when the truth hurts like hell. Real love is being there through every miserable minute and every infinite moment. Real love is—it’s sitting in that cage together with a gun pointed at your head, knowing all you have to do to save your life is kill him, and instead you hold each other because living without him isn’t living at all.” I sucked in a deep breath and blinked hard, an unnamed part of me twisting sharply. “Knox would have killed me if it meant winning the war. I’m nothing more than a pawn to him. But Benjy would have died for me.”
Rivers was quiet for several seconds, until at last he slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the things I see when you aren’t looking are just my imagination. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a pawn to him. You’re even more than the most important piece on the board. To Knox, there is no game without you.”
“Then he’s going to be bitterly disappointed when it ends.” Pain radiated down my side, and I winced. “I’m with Benjy. I love Benjy. Nothing will ever change that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Rivers, and at least he had the decency to sound slightly abashed. “Just—don’t forget that there’s more than one kind of love.”
I scowled, shrugging out of his embrace despite the ache it caused. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Whatever you need it to,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Come on—this fork will take us as close to Mercer Manor as we’re going to get.”
I took a deep breath, willing the snarling, angry monster in the pit of my stomach to retreat. Rivers wasn’t in charge of my life. Just because he had an opinion didn’t give him any power over me. Who I chose to love was entirely up to me, and I’d made my decision long ago.
As we wound through the tunnel, I tried to map it in my head. It wasn’t unlike the way I’d memorized the sewer tunnels back in the Heights, where I’d grown up, and if I was right, the tunnel would let out in—
“Clothing storage,” said Rivers as he pushed open a piece of the wall. It, too, swung on hinges, but unlike the entrance we’d used, this closet was filled with racks and racks of boots. Most were worn and falling to pieces, and even those in the best condition were too far gone for anyone still in society to wear. Even IIs.
It was yet another reminder that despite being liberated by the Blackcoats, the prisoners were still exactly where they’d been before. But now we may have found a way to fix it.
“I want to map the entire tunnel system,” I blurted. “And I want you to help me.”
“I’d be happy to,” said Rivers grandly, as if he’d expected this all along. But unlike when Knox blatantly used me to further his own goals, I didn’t really mind. At least Rivers had had the forethought to let me think it was my idea.
We stepped out into a dingy hallway inside what must have been the garments building, where the clothing for the prisoners was made and stored. It was one of the nicer buildings in Section X, no doubt thanks to its proximity to Mercer Manor. To my surprise, we passed a few former prisoners still working, and in the distance, I heard the faint whirring of sewing machines.
“Don’t they know they don’t have to do this anymore?” I said as we reached the exit.
“We can’t all sit around and think all day. This needs to be a functioning community,” said Rivers. “Don’t worry—they’re here because they want to be, not because anyone is pointing a gun at their heads.”
“They’re here to avoid having someone point a gun at their heads,” I pointed out. “There’s no safe place for them outside Elsewhere.”
“That’ll change,” said Rivers with such offhanded assuredness that, had he been able to bottle it, I would have given anything I owned for just a taste. “We’ll start mapping out the tunnels tomorrow, once you’ve had a chance to rest.”
“We’ll start on it after dinner,” I corrected. “Once I’ve had time to take some painkillers.”
We argued all the way back to Mercer Manor, where Rivers reluctantly agreed to meet me that evening—but only to draw a guide to the tunnels he was already familiar with. It wasn’t the exploration I’d had in mind, but at least we were doing something.
I refused to let the doctor examine me, instead choosing to lie down upstairs in the bedroom Benjy and I now shared. We’d spent three days trapped together in that room while the Battle of Elsewhere raged outside, but I didn’t see it as a prison. Not anymore. Instead, it was a refuge from whatever storm Knox and the Blackcoats were brewing downstairs, the one place I could be me without having to worry about being silenced or ignored. Or mistaken for someone I wasn’t—though now that the entire country knew who I was, with any luck, those instances would become few and far between.
I turned on the radio and listened to the soft music, trying to lose myself in it and forget the rest of the world for a little while. But as soon as I closed my eyes, someone knocked softly on the door.
“This better be good,” I called, turning my face from the pillow enough to watch the door. Benjy slipped inside and offered me a smile.
“Heard what happened,” he said. “Rivers said you wouldn’t see a doctor.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Breathing hurts, that’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all?” He rubbed his hands together, warming them up. “If you won’t let them take a look at you, then at least let me check to see if anything’s broken. You could puncture a lung and die, and then where would we be?”
“You’d be fine,” I said. “Knox would be adrift. He just wouldn’t realize it for a while.”
He smiled, but it resembled a grimace far too closely for it to be genuine. “I’m sure Knox will be pleased to know you’re so concerned about him, but I wouldn’t be fine without you, either. Let me take a look.”
I immediately regretted bringing Knox up at all, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Reluctantly I tugged up my shirt and let him take a look at the angry purple bruise already forming on my side. Benjy gently began to examine my ribs.
“You shouldn’t go down there alone anymore,” he said. I frowned.
“Why are we doing any of this if we’re too scared to talk to them? They have a point, you know. We’re up here, getting the best food and the best medical care—”
“We eat the same things they eat,” he said. “And they have constant access to doctors and nurses.”
“We still live in this house while they live in bunks,” I said. “That kind of difference might not seem like much, but to them, we might as well be poking them in the eye with our superiority.”
“We need space to meet and plan.”
“We could use the dining hall for space,” I countered. “This manor is where the Mercers lived for years. Staying here, while nothing’s changed for the rest of them—it isn’t doing us any good.”
“What would you prefer we do? Let everyone crowd in here?” said Benjy. His fingers pressed against a particularly tender spot, and I hissed. “No matter what kind of equality we want, there will always be leaders, and those leaders will always have some kind of marginal privilege.”
“Then what’s the difference between us and the Harts?” I said. “What makes us any better?”
“We won’t abuse our privileges. We won’t take and take and take and give nothing in return.” He pulled my shirt back down and gently draped a blanket over me. “We’re doing everything we can to make them as comfortable and happy as possible. The bunks aren’t bad at all. They have heat. We’re giving them fresh mattresses and clothes. We can’t do it all immediately, Kitty, not when we’re barely keeping our heads above water. But the sacrifices they’re making right now—if we win, they’ll be worth it. They know that. It’s just a little hard to remember right now.”
“It’s a little hard to remember a lot of things,” I mumbled, and he sat down on the bed beside me, running his fingers through my hair.
“Like what?”
I gave him a look. “You’re patronizing me.”
“No, I’m serious,” he said. “Talk to me, Kitty. Let me help.”
There was nothing he could do, not really—but he’d always been a salve to the terrible circumstances of our lives before. Taking a deep breath, I finally said, “I think I’ve forgotten what I really look like.”
His hand stilled. “I haven’t.”
“How? I’ve looked like this—like Lila—for months,” I said. “How could you possibly still look at me and see Kitty Doe?”
Benjy shifted so we were face-to-face, and he touched the curve of my jaw. Lila’s jaw. “It isn’t about what you look like. It never has been. It’s about what’s underneath, and that hasn’t changed.”
He was trying to be kind—he was being kind, like always. But I could see the way he looked at me sometimes, especially when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I tried to imagine what it would be like if Benjy were Masked into someone else—Knox, or Greyson, or Strand—and part of me knew that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to separate them completely. He would always be somewhat changed. Maybe Benjy was better at this than I would be—maybe he still saw the real me underneath. But I wasn’t the same anymore. The past four months had changed me irrevocably, and sometimes I wondered if he knew that. Or if he wanted to pretend as badly as I did.
“Yeah, but—” I hesitated, not knowing how to put the knot of frustration in my throat into words. “It’s not just that. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I’m a Hart. I’m a former prisoner. I’m a Blackcoat. But I’m not really any of those things, either. And I’m not who I look like. I’m not anything except that speech. And even that wasn’t good enough for Knox, not really.”
Benjy’s hand resumed running through my hair, and he toyed with the ends. “Forget Knox. He’s under so much pressure right now that nothing is going to make him happy, so you might as well focus on making yourself happy instead.”
I frowned. Happy had become such a foreign concept to me that I wasn’t sure I remembered what it felt like. “I don’t know how to do that anymore.”
“Sure you do.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “This isn’t forever, Kitty. And when we’ve won, there will be a place for you in our new world, and a place for everyone who doesn’t feel like they belong.”
I wanted to believe him, but there was no good place in the world for me after the war was over. I would never be me anymore. I would always be Lila’s double. And while others—smarter than me, most likely—would know how to use that to give them the life they wanted, I didn’t.
At the rate I was going, as lost and confused as I was, I would always be someone else’s idea of who I should be. And I hated that thought nearly as much as I hated the man known as Daxton Hart.
The radio crackled, the music replaced by white noise. I muttered a curse and reached over to turn it off.
“Wait, keep it on,” said Benjy, and I frowned. But before I could ask when he’d gained an appreciation for static, a voice began to speak—one as familiar to me as my own.
“My apologies for interrupting your evening,” said Lila Hart, though she didn’t sound very sorry at all. “This will be brief. Earlier today, a girl by the name of Kitty Doe, who was hired to impersonate me at public events for my own safety, made several claims against my uncle, Prime Minister Daxton Hart. I am here of my own free will to tell you all that every word out of her mouth is a profound, grievous, and traitorous lie. The man who is your Prime Minister is and always has been my biological uncle, and the United States government will take every measure not only to prove this, but also to show you how deep into the well of lies the entire Blackcoat rhetoric goes.”
I stared at Benjy, my stomach constricting painfully. He shook his head in resignation. “We knew this was coming,” he murmured. “There was never any question how they were going to counter.”
“But—” My mouth went dry. No matter how stupid it was, part of me had thought offering Lila a lifeline would change something. But of course it hadn’t. She was still under Daxton’s thumb, and she would be until one of them was dead.
I almost couldn’t bear to listen to the rest of it as, one by one, Lila recounted my claims and insisted they were false. No matter how many holes she alleged were in my full story, she returned to Daxton’s true identity over and over again. But while I dug my nails so deep into my palms I was sure they’d start bleeding, Benjy smirked.
“Do you hear that?” he said, and I shook my head. “‘The lady doth protest too much.’”
“I have no idea what that means,” I said miserably. “Can we please turn it off?”
Benjy switched off the radio, and merciful silence filled the room. Or mostly silence, anyway—from somewhere in the manor, I could hear Lila’s voice filtering up toward us, her words muffled. But that was infinitely better than having her blasted in my ear.
“It means there’s a very thin line between rightfully protesting, and protesting so much that it becomes clear you’re trying to hide something,” said Benjy. “Anyone with half a brain can tell she took a flying leap over the line.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Do you think she’s doing it on purpose?”
