Queen. Aimee Carter
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reality. Not a dream, but something we can live. The chance to choose our own paths in life. To be more than the numbers on the backs of our necks.
“The Blackcoats have crippled the military and seized control of their main arsenals. They have infiltrated the government, and they have worked tirelessly to give us back the inalienable rights that were stolen before any of us were born. But it’s up to us to finish the job. We need to stand together against the Shields, the Harts, and the Ministers of the Union. We need to remind them that we are the ones in charge, not them—that this is our country, and after all they’ve done to us, our families, and our friends, we are revoking their privilege to rule. Because it is a privilege,” I added fiercely. “Not a right. A privilege we gave them through our compliance. And the time has come to take back what is ours. Together, we will prevail, and we will be free.”
The cheers from the former prisoners were deafening. I could see it in their faces—for these few moments, they forgot about their hunger and their despair. They believed in what I was saying. They believed in hope, and that alone had made everything I’d been through worth it.
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.
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