by Aimee Carter
“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.”
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“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?”
“Maybe, if her speech isn’t scripted,” he said. “If it is, clearly someone’s panicking, and that someone is probably Daxton.”
So there was a chance Lila was fighting back after all. I forced myself into a sitting position, wincing as my ribs protested. “I need to talk to Knox.”
“No, you need to rest,” said Benjy, reaching for my shoulder. “You may not have any broken bones, but that doesn’t mean you’re not injured.”
I shrugged off his hand. “Benjy, I love you, but Knox was furious that I pardoned Lila for her crimes, and he’s going to use any excuse he can get to undo that. She just handed him one on a silver platter.” I swung my feet around carefully and stood. Though walking back to the manor through the tunnels hadn’t been difficult, now that my body had had time to rest and the adrenaline had worn off, every little wrong move sent aching pain through me. “He won’t listen to me with the other Blackcoats backing him up, so I need to talk to him before he calls a meeting to figure out a rebuttal.”
“I’ll be there to support you,” he pointed out.
“And a dozen other Blackcoats will be there to support him,” I said.
Benjy didn’t look convinced, but rather than fight me on it, he stood as well and offered me a hand. “At least let me help you down the steps.”
I gave him a long, searching look, but at last I accepted. Together we made our way through the hallway and down the staircase, his grip on me strong and steady, the sort that never made me question whether he’d catch me if I fell. I didn�
��t know how I’d lucked out, having Benjy in my life, but it was one of the few things I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I was positive he would try to weasel his way into my talk with Knox, but to my surprise, once we reached the foyer, he let me go. “I’ll be helping with dinner. Shout if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching him head into the kitchen. As soon as he disappeared, leaving me alone in the marble entranceway with an ornate H decorating the floor, I crossed to the office that had once belonged to Jonathan Mercer, Hannah’s husband. Even now, two weeks after she had killed him, I still felt a shiver run through me every time I approached the white double doors.
I cracked them open, my mouth open and a greeting on the tip of my tongue. Before I could say anything, however, Knox’s voice shot through the room like a whip. “No.”
“I need—” I began, but the words died on my lips. Knox wasn’t talking to me. Instead he paced in front of his desk, and on the monitor I saw a feed of Celia Hart. The real Lila’s mother.
Knox shot me a vicious look over his shoulder, but rather than forcing me to leave, he gestured for me to come in, sparing us both that fight.
I slipped inside and closed the doors, sticking to a corner where Celia wouldn’t be able to see me. On the monitor, she leaned forward until her face took up the entire screen. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and the Hart eyes, but there was a fierceness to her that no one in their right mind would challenge.
Except Knox.
“I don’t care whether you approve or not, Creed. I am just as much a founder of the Blackcoats as you are, and the D.C. team is under my command. This is not up for discussion.”
“If you raid Somerset, everything we’ve worked for will be destroyed. We will once again be the enemy—do you understand?” said Knox, his hands tightening into fists.
My jaw dropped. Somerset was the traditional home of the Hart family, nestled in the heart of D.C., far away from the slums I’d grown up in. I knew eventually the Blackcoats would have to seize control of it to cement their power, but we weren’t ready for an invasion yet. The majority of the Blackcoat army was trapped in Elsewhere, slowly starving to death. Celia might have a few hundred people at her command, but Somerset was undoubtedly crawling with guards and Shields. It was suicide.
