Queen

by Aimee Carter

  “Like the Ministers of the Union?”

  “Something like that. I want you to be on it. You, Knox, Benjy, Rivers, the other leaders of the rebellion who survived—you all won this war. I want to honor that and turn this country into something to be proud of.”

  “You will.” I rested my head against his shoulder, my gaze lingering on Knox. “Thank you. I know being Prime Minister was the last thing you wanted.”

  “Being my father was the last thing I wanted,” he corrected quietly. “Making a difference in this country—giving people their lives back and making sure all of this wasn’t for nothing—that’s an honor. Besides,” he added, “if all goes as planned, I’d like to hold elections eventually. Real elections, where there’s more than one name on the ballot. And term limits. No one will rule this country indefinitely again, and the people will have a voice—a real voice.”

  That sounded almost too good to be true, but wasn’t that exactly what we’d spent all this time fighting for? “America’s lucky to have you.”

  “No. They’re lucky to have you.”

  I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry for kicking you in the shin.”

  He chuckled and pulled me closer. “I’m sorry for trying to stop you. But I meant what I said, Kitty. You’re it. You’re the only family I have left now. I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you again. I promise.”

  “Bad things happen all the time. Maybe not war and death and maiming, but—little things.” I looked up at him and offered him a lopsided smile. It was all I was capable of at the moment. “It’s okay. I don’t mind them, as long as I have you.”

  Knox let out a particularly loud snore, and my shoulders shook with laughter.

  “You, too,” I added, giving him a look. He was still fast asleep, and I turned back to Greyson. “We’re through the worst of it. We’ll get through the rest together.”

  Greyson sighed. “I hope so.” After a moment, he added, “Can I ask you something?”

  “I think you already did.”

  He smiled vaguely before it dropped from his face completely. “Why didn’t you tell Daxton who you really were?”

  I hesitated, not sure how to put it into words. “Lila gave up her entire life for this rebellion. She risked everything time and time again. And maybe she had her moments of weakness, but we all do. I wanted to honor her. I wanted to make sure her name goes down in history as the reason this all happened. If I told the country who I really was—it wouldn’t matter that she started it. They would only remember that I finished it, and I couldn’t do that to her. She deserves to be remembered.”

  Greyson took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped his eyes quickly. “Thank you. I know she would have appreciated it. And thought you were crazy for not wanting credit.”

  “It’s not about the credit,” I said. “It’s about making a difference. And we all did that together.”

  “We did. And even if everyone thinks you’re Lila, I can find a way to have you returned to your original appearance,” said Greyson. “We have all the doctors in the country at our disposal. I can make it happen.”

  For months, I’d wanted nothing more than to look in a mirror and see my real face staring back. Round and freckled, with a button nose and dirty blond hair several shades darker than Lila’s. But I was more than my appearance. I was more than what people thought when they looked at me. And no matter whose face I wore, I would have to find a way to accept that.

  “Kitty Doe is dead,” I whispered. “I’m Kitty Hart, and somehow, even though I shouldn’t be, I’m still here. And this is what I look like, scars and all. I don’t want to change a thing.”

  “Okay,” he said softly, running his fingers through my hair. “You’re perfect exactly the way you are.”

  I smiled again and let my eyes fall shut. “Damn straight.”

  * * *

  Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke with a jolt. A nurse stood over me in the dimly lit room, silently checking my vitals. When he noticed I was awake, he winced, clutching his tablet apologetically. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in your own bed, Miss Hart?” he said quietly. Beside me, Greyson had also fallen fast asleep.

  “No, I’m good here,” I mumbled. “Can I have something to drink?”

  He fetched me a glass of ice water, and I sat up. Swallowing was a torture unlike anything I’d ever experienced, but I managed to get some down by taking tiny sips. As soon as he was done checking me over, the nurse exited, leaving me alone in the darkness.

  “How’s the throat?”

  I jumped, nearly spilling the water all over my lap. Knox’s eyes were open, and he watched me from his position prone on the bed. “It’s fine,” I lied. “I’ll live. How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll live.”

  We stared at one another for a long moment, and finally he cracked a grin.

  “You look like hell.”

  “And you don’t?” I said hoarsely. With effort, he sat up.

  “No worse than you do. Come over here. I don’t want to wake Greyson.”

  Reluctantly I untangled myself from my brother and crossed the room to sit in the chair beside Knox’s bed, shoving a small pillow behind my back. It wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture I’d ever encountered, but it would do. Being this close to Knox without the fear of Daxton killing us both felt like a dream, and given the fuzzy state of my mind, I wasn’t so sure it wasn’t. He was really here. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were still alive that whole time.”

  “You figured it out well enough on your own,” he said. I glared at him, my cheeks burning.

  “And I can’t believe you let me ramble on like that when you were listening the whole time.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I said I wasn’t?”

  “Were you?” I said cautiously, and he grinned.

  “Of course I was. Had to make sure you two were all right.”

  I pulled the pillow out from behind my back and hit him in the thigh. “You’re awful and I hate you.”

  “Only one of those is true.” He reached for my hand with his good arm, his touch warm and heavy and comforting, and his expression softened. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of something more, but it was too dark to be sure. “You did great, Kitty. I can’t tell you how proud I am.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to sincerity from him. Not like this, not when I wasn’t prepared for the feelings coursing through me like lava, overwhelming my senses. Anger, relief, desire, pure and desperate joy—there were too many to name, let alone make any sense of. So instead I replied like we always did, with just enough bite to let each other know we cared. “Of course you can’t, because that would be admitting I did something right for a change.”

  Knox smirked, and though he could have let the moment pass, his thumb brushed against the back of my hand, sending sparks through me. “So what’s next, now that you’ve saved the world?”

  “I didn’t save the world,” I said, my overworked voice breaking.

  “Close enough. Are you and Benjy getting a cottage in the woods together? Going to run off and be a happy little couple?”

  “I—” I stopped. If he’d been listening, he should have known. Maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to be sure. “Benjy broke up with me.” The words hurt less than I thought they would. “He’s still my best friend, and he’ll always be around, but—it’s better this way. We weren’t as good together as we both deserved. Not like that.”

  Knox raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how good can it get?”

  “I—” I took another sip of my water. My throat burned, but it gave me time to think. I didn’t know how good it could get. That was the problem. I thought Benjy was it, but he wasn’t. And the evidence was currently stari
ng at me.

  “You...?” said Knox, waiting for me to continue. I shook my head. He knew. He knew he knew, and I’d given him the confirmation he needed. Now he was just being a jerk.

  “Don’t make me say it. Today’s been traumatic enough for both of us.”

  He seemed to consider that, leaning back against his pillows without taking his eyes off me. I held his gaze, and for the space of several heartbeats, neither of us said a word. My pulse raced. He knew. And so did I, without him having to say a word.

  “You should get some sleep,” he said at last. “Save that voice of yours. The next few days are going to be rough and confusing, and the people are going to need some guidance.”

  I nodded, both relieved and dismayed at the shift in conversation. The last thing I wanted was to go on national television yet again, but he was right. The people would need a leader, and I had already given them everything else. I could give them this, too. “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.” He seemed to realize how earnest he sounded, because he added with a smirk, “Within reason.”

  I gripped my glass, running my thumb through the condensation. “I’m tired,” I whispered.

  “I told you, you should get some—”

  “Not that kind of tired. I’m exhausted. Wrung out. There’s nothing left. I just need—I need a break. I need to get away. Not forever. But just for a little while.”

  Knox was quiet for a long moment. “I can make that happen.”

  “Really?” I said, and he nodded.

  “I know exactly where you should go.”

  * * *

  The next day, the hospital released me into the care of a private physician. Walking out into the bright sunlight, so incongruous with the turmoil we had all survived—it didn’t feel real, but nothing did anymore. And I was okay with that. The instant it felt real was the moment I would start appreciating it all a little less, and I never wanted that moment to come.

  Greyson assembled his council in the dining room of Creed Manor that afternoon, along with a camera crew and an order for my speech to be broadcast on every channel across the nation. My throat was in bad shape, and more than once, Greyson asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, but I was. He would do most of the talking anyway. I just had to make sure the country knew he was nothing like his father or the madman that had impersonated him.

  With Knox still hospitalized, the council consisted of seven members: me, Greyson, Benjy, Rivers, and three other surviving leaders from the rebellion. Together we sat at a round table—it was symbolic, according to Benjy—and as the red light clicked on, I took a deep breath.

  “My name is Lila Hart.” My voice was barely above a whisper, and the microphone was turned up as loud as it would go, but I knew subtitles would be running across every screen. “Yesterday, you all witnessed the undoing of Victor Mercer, who had been terrorizing our great nation as Prime Minister Daxton Hart for over a year. You heard him confess to treason, murder, and countless other crimes, and for the first time, you had the veil pulled back from the people who have been running your country and your lives. You saw the corruption. You saw the greed. You saw the madness my cousin Greyson and I have been witnessing for months, and you also saw your Prime Minister die at my hands. I’m sorry for taking his life, and that’s something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of mine. But I am not sorry for doing what I had to do in order to protect the people—in order to protect you from his tyranny.

  “I won’t pretend everyone watching this supported the Blackcoats,” I continued. “We were a country divided in more ways than one. Not just by our beliefs, but by the tattoos on the back of our necks, too. By a corrupt, imperfect system that, while providing the very basic necessities, has also ruined many lives and stopped far too many from reaching their full potential.

  “But I will say that everyone watching this—you are now free in a way you have never been before. This is a freedom our ancestors fought to protect, and it is a freedom our families, friends, and loved ones fought to restore to us in the Blackcoat Rebellion. And from this day forward, I and the people at this table will make sure their sacrifices were not in vain. We will make sure your rights are protected, and we will make sure that everyone has a chance—a real chance—to live their lives to the fullest. My cousin Greyson may not have been a Blackcoat, but we both believe in freedom and democracy. We both believe in letting you, the people, decide who governs you. And while he will remain Prime Minister during this transitional period, during the restructuring and rebuilding of our government into something the people control, as soon as this country is ready for a fair election, he will relinquish his title to your chosen representative.”

  I met Benjy’s gaze across the table, and he gave me an encouraging nod. Taking another deep breath, I continued. “Change won’t happen in a day, or a week, or even a month. It may take years to fully restructure ourselves into something our forefathers would be proud of. We will make sure it happens as fast as possible, but we won’t do so to the detriment of any of you. Your lives will continue much as they are, with the exception of wages and rations being increased for the lower ranks. But to those of you who haven’t taken your test yet—” I paused and looked directly into the camera again. “You will not be ranked. You will be assessed, and you will be guided, but you will not be forced into a life you haven’t chosen. I—” I stopped, my voice tired and my throat aching, but I pushed on. “I know it will be difficult, and things won’t be perfect right away. But please give us a chance. I swear we will make you proud.”

  The others sitting at the table applauded, and when it faded, I squared my shoulders. “And now, allow me to introduce your new Prime Minister, Greyson Hart, who will explain our preliminary plan.”

  “Thank you, Lila,” he said gently, and while he talked about things like representation, elections, and his plans for change, I let my mind wander toward the possibilities of what this country might be like in five years. It seemed crazy to think about a time without ranks. They had become so ingrained in our mind-set that it would take far more than a few years to shake it completely. But in a generation or two...maybe by then, the people really would feel like equals.

  Benjy nudged a piece of paper across the table toward me, and I took it. On it he had drawn a beach with the sun beating down on the waves, and a stick figure with shoulder-length hair building a sandcastle. Me.

  With the knowledge that the camera was focused on Greyson, I picked up a pen and drew him a sketch in return. It was once again a stick figure, but this time I stood in a cottage in the woods, and I wasn’t alone. Another stick figure stood beside me, her hair in a braid and a smile on her face.

  I pushed the paper back to Benjy, and he examined my drawing. Looking up at me, he tilted his head questioningly, and I nodded.

  I would be there for Greyson. I would be Lila Hart. I would be a member of this council, and I would do whatever I had to do in order to help make sure this country became everything the Blackcoats wanted it to be. But for now, just for a short while, I would be someone else, too.

  I would be me.

  XIX

  Cottage in the Woods

  One week later, I sat in the middle of a meadow beside a lake, my head tilted back as the sun warmed my face in the chilly February breeze. I had been out here for nearly an hour now, breathing in the fresh air and the smell of the dormant forest. I couldn’t wait for spring, when the grass would grow and flowers would bloom and I could spend all day outside without worrying Hannah.

  As it was, she stood in the doorway of our cottage, holding a wooden spoon as she watched me. “Kitty, you’re going to freeze to death out there.”

  “It’s not that cold.” My voice was still rough, but I could speak without pain now, and a doctor came by every few days to make sure my recovery was going well.

 
“The tip of your nose is red, and I don’t doubt that cuff has frozen to your ear by now,” she said. “Besides, you have someone waiting for you.”

  “What? Who?” I stood and headed toward the cottage, brushing the dirt off my pants. The metal cuff was cold against the cartilage of my ear. But while Greyson didn’t use his, and I hadn’t heard a word from Knox since I’d last visited his hospital room the day I’d left D.C., I couldn’t bring myself to take it off.

  “Benjy. He’s on the monitor.”

  Hannah held the door open for me, and I stepped into the warm cottage. It was small, with only a living room, a tiny kitchen, two small bedrooms, and a bathroom we shared, but it was all the space Hannah and I needed. At first we’d tiptoed around one another, not entirely sure what to do or say, but as the days passed, we slowly grew more comfortable with one another. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to call her Mom, and it was undoubtedly difficult for her to think of me as the baby she’d been forced to give up all those years ago, but we were working on it. And that was the important part.

  “I set a mug of hot chocolate on the desk for you,” said Hannah as she helped me out of my coat and hung it near the crackling fire to warm it for the next time I decided to go outside—which, admittedly, would probably be as soon as my call with Benjy ended. After spending so many months trapped in one way or another, I loved the freedom of the lakeshore. The cottage was inviting, and I never felt like an intruder, but it also didn’t quite feel like home yet.

  “Thanks,” I said, flashing her a grateful smile. I headed to the desk, where Benjy’s face appeared on the monitor as he waited for me.

  “Took you long enough,” he said. “What were you doing?”

  “I was outside,” I said. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

  “What, I’m not allowed to call twice in one day?” said Benjy.

  “I—” I eyed him and picked up my hot chocolate. “You’re sure nothing’s going on?”

  “Positive. My dinner plans fell through, and I just thought you’d like me to read to you for a while.”