The Founders

by Dylan Steel

  “I don’t—”

  “No, really, don’t let me keep you.” Sage swept her hand toward the door. “You can come back for the cart later, right?”

  “Look,” Eliza hissed, narrowing her eyes. “Just because you can’t see everything Mr. Bennick has done for you doesn’t mean I have to ignore it too.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you know all about it,” Sage retorted.

  “I know more than you think.”

  “Oh, really? Like what?”

  “Like how hard the Bennicks try to make a good life for all of us here.”

  “Sure.” Sage snorted. “Being locked up and hidden away is a great life.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was bothering to argue. She’d already figured out that Eliza was Lawless—she wouldn’t be allowed to see her otherwise—but she couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like the girl knew anything about how hard life in Eprah was.

  Eliza’s lips puckered as if she’d eaten something sour. She stared back at Sage silently, clearly choosing her next words carefully.

  But to Sage’s surprise, Eliza took a step toward her. Her eyes never left Sage’s. Wordlessly, she put her fingertips together, tugging on the ends of her glove. She pulled it off, letting the long fabric lay limp in her still-gloved hand.

  Sage let out a soft gasp. She allowed her eyes to roam over Eliza’s arm. There, running from Eliza’s fingertips to elbow, was a patchwork of melted and fused flesh.

  She held her hand up to give Sage a better view. The scars were old, and the webbing at the base of her fingers was too tight, pulling awkwardly at her adjacent fingers as she tried to wiggle them one by one.

  “What happened?” Sage breathed.

  “The Bennicks made sure that I would never know the full cruelty of Eprah,” Eliza said quietly, not answering her question. She pulled her glove back on, carefully tucking it under her bracelet as she stretched it up her arm again. “Do you honestly think there would be a place for me there? Do you honestly think the others would let me live, knowing how I look, knowing how it affects what I can do?”

  Sage was silent. They both knew the answer.

  “Just because someone makes a few mistakes doesn’t mean that they’re a terrible person,” Eliza said. “We all make bad decisions sometimes. Not even always on purpose.”

  “You seem pretty convinced that I’m a horrible person for one thing I did,” Sage bit out, anger bleeding through her tone.

  “Yeah, well, saying sorry doesn’t mean you are sorry. It doesn’t mean you’ve changed.” Eliza snorted. “You’re obviously still thinking about running away, or you would’ve made a decision by now. So why in Eprah’s name should I really believe you when you say you’re sorry?”

  Sage swallowed, looking away. She hated that she had a point.

  Eliza glanced down at her hands sadly. “It was an accident. I was old enough to know better, but I got too close to the fire and lost my balance. I was lucky it wasn’t worse.” Her eyes flicked to Sage’s. “You may be mad about Mr. Bennick lying, but he’s a good man. He saved my life, and I know he saved yours.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Sage murmured, unable to tear her attention away from Eliza’s hands.

  “Actually, it is.” Eliza crossed her arms. “Just because somebody made one wrong decision doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try to do better. It doesn’t mean they have to spend their entire life stuck in that mistake.”

  Sage shifted her weight, unease spreading through her whole being. Weston wasn’t the only one who’d made a mistake. She’d turned in his mom to keep herself from spending years in isolation. Even if being shunned would’ve meant horrible assignment at graduation, it didn’t matter. She’d traded Sophia’s life for her own, knowing deep down exactly what she was doing, knowing she wasn’t really a monster and that whatever happened to her wouldn’t really be justice.

  And this was her chance to make it right.

  Her stomach twisted in knots. It was all she could do to keep from doubling over and dry heaving where she stood.

  Reaching blindly at her side, Sage gripped the edge of the table, steadying herself until her knuckles turned white. She knew what she needed to do, but she was terrified she’d back out if she thought about it much longer.

  “Eliza,” Sage whispered, unable to speak any louder, “I need you to go get Weston. Now.”

  “Why?” Eliza eyed her suspiciously, not making any motion to leave.

  Sage breathed out slowly, fixing Eliza with a somber gaze. “Because I finally have an answer for him.”

  4. CHARADE

  Sage’s heart slammed against her chest. She ran her palms over her dress, attempting to smooth her skirt for the hundredth time, setting in more wrinkles than she removed.

  Weston’s hand settled on top of hers firmly, stopping her from fidgeting.

  “Everything will be fine.”

  His voice was low, his words meant for her ears alone.

  It did little to reassure her, but it was enough to refocus her on how she was supposed to be acting. She pressed her lips together and forced her attention forward. The headmaster had started talking, which meant the festivities had only just begun.

  This was her first Founders’ Day that didn’t require a performance—at least, not a performance on the stage. She knew she’d be spending the day acting the part of the penitent pair. And it wasn’t a performance she could afford to mess up.

  She stole a sideways glance at Weston, but his eyes were fixed on the stage. He, too, was playing a role—the role of the dutiful benefactor and loyal citizen. It was an act he was well-versed in—an act she had never suspected wasn’t real.

  Blinking, she shoved aside her doubts and turned back around as the first group of students piled on stage. Her mind drifted as the familiar skit began. Nerves tore at her insides as she replayed the conversation she’d had with Weston the night before.

  Weston hadn’t asked her any of the questions she’d expected him to. Hadn’t asked what had taken so long for her to decide or what had changed her mind. Hadn’t asked if she was telling the truth or if she was risking all their lives.

  He’d simply accepted that she had agreed to become Lawless. No ceremony, no fanfare, just a quiet acknowledgment. In fact, his only insistence had been that she get some rest for the day ahead of them.

  She doubted he really trusted her after all her blatant attempts at escape, but she knew the truth. She’d meant it when she said she’d join the Lawless again. Under Weston’s leadership, she hoped that things would be different. Better. That they could make a real change—possibly bring Eprah down for good.

  And maybe, somehow, she could begin to make up for turning Sophia Bennick over to Mr. Gaztok.

  But they had to get through today first. He’d told her that they had to convince everyone that he’d stripped most—but not all—of her Chances.

  And by everyone, she knew he meant Edward Grayson. He was the only one who really counted because he was the only one who had witnessed what had happened in Weston’s office.

  If the creep of a benefactor didn’t believe them, Weston would be in just as much trouble as Sage—possibly more. He was risking everything for her—again—and he seemed perfectly calm about it. Almost as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that anyone could think he was lying, though Sage knew that was impossible. Weston considered every angle and every risk. Always. Ever since she’d met him, he’d been at least two steps ahead of her. It was kind of annoying, actually.

  She grinned inwardly. Maybe now that she knew they were on the same side, she’d be grateful for it.

  The Level Eights were on stage now. Sage found herself scanning across the familiar faces she’d once instructed, hardly listening to Eprah’s anthem as they performed it. She stifled a laugh when her eyes fell on Alira. Her lips moved in unison with the others, but hers were puckered—obviously, she wasn’t particularly enjoying singing.

  An uncomfortable thought crossed Sage’s mind,
making her frown. She hoped it was the singing, not the actual anthem, that had soured Alira’s expression. If the girl didn’t like Eprah, she needed to do a much better job of hiding it. On the other hand, if she just wasn’t much of a vocalist, there was likely no harm done.

  Sage shifted in her seat as they finished singing and the Level Nines took their place on stage. She wasn’t sure which scenario she’d rather be the truth. While she hated the fact that Eprah and the institution managed to instill genuine loyalty, she’d also grown rather fond of the young girl and hoped she wasn’t putting herself in danger.

  She didn’t have much time to worry about it though. The other levels continued filing in and out, giving identical performances to those she’d seen for years. They never deviated. Never. Founders’ Day was deliberately steeped in tradition. It was meant to reinforce the lesson of Eprah’s greatness and reinstill any wavering loyalties—a time to remember the foundation laid for Eprah by its founders.

  Too bad she’d never really bought into it. And now she was playing for the other side again.

  Her mind wandered once again, blocking out the scripts she’d long since memorized. Grayson plagued her thoughts. He’d be there today, and there was no doubt in her mind that he expected her to be dead.

  Of course, Weston would have to be the one to convince him that he’d spared her life. Her only job was to appear submissive, defeated, tamed. With so few Chances remaining, she wouldn’t dare speak, wouldn’t dare risk incurring another benefactor’s wrath on top of her own—or so he would assume.

  Movement on the stage caught her attention, drawing her back to the present. Apparently, she’d become quite adept at tuning out the headmaster over the years because he was already muttering something about a great honor and sweeping his arm to the side to welcome Mr. Gaztok.

  Sage clenched her jaw automatically as Mr. Gaztok stepped up to the center of the stage. She felt Weston’s hand stiffen over hers and only then realized that he hadn’t moved it for the entirety of the performances. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who had learned that the man’s presence was never a good sign. The fact that Weston had reacted at all concerned her. Granted, she didn’t think anyone else could have possibly noticed. Weston was the epitome of control, able to appear impassive under even the most dire of circumstances. She was surprised that he would reveal even a trace of his emotion to her, but she found it oddly reassuring. And maybe that was all he had meant it as—a reassurance. He had to know the effect Mr. Gaztok would have on her.

  “Citizens of Eprah. Ladies. Gentlemen.” Mr. Gaztok turned slowly, taking in the vast audience before him. The overhead lights bounced off his slicked back hair, making him appear more regal than he had a right to. “I come before you today bearing reassurances. The Lawless threat is more controlled than ever. After repeated attempts on those most worthy, their actions have brought about their own destruction. Their carelessness allows us to thin their ranks, bringing an end to their rebellious and traitorous nature.

  “And as I have led the charge against them, I do not want you to think that my attention is split between my duties. It has been an honor to serve in the place of the venerable Nicholas Pruitt as he has battled illness these last few months. But in fact, if anything, greater access to the Quorum of Five has been a boon to my efforts, allowing me further freedoms to pursue those who would see us fall. So take heart, good citizens of Eprah. Your efforts, my efforts—our efforts—are not in vain. We were once and are still a great nation that can overcome even the most vile of—”

  He paused, his attention shifting to the side of the stage where Kai had just emerged from. A bleak expression was set in the lines of his face as he made his way to the center of the stage.

  Mr. Gaztok pursed his lips, watching Kai expectantly as he held up an apologetic finger to the room. Kai stopped just behind him, tilting his face away from the crowd so that he could whisper something in Mr. Gaztok’s ear.

  Sage felt her heart pounding faster as the two men stood there in silence. For Kai to interrupt his mentor’s speech—she couldn’t imagine it was good.

  It seemed her fears were confirmed when Mr. Gaztok pulled back and looked at Kai in shock. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Mr. Gaztok ruffled before. It took every ounce of willpower for her not to shoot Weston a questioning glance, but she didn’t dare. After all, the only thing she could imagine upsetting Mr. Gaztok so visibly was news of a Lawless resurgence or something similarly tragic in his mind. She wasn’t about to give any bystanders a reason to question Weston’s loyalty.

  Kai exchanged one final look with Mr. Gaztok before retreating offstage once again. Slowly, the man turned back to the waiting citizens. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, appearing genuinely ill at ease with what he was about to say.

  “I’m afraid I have just been given the most unfortunate news.” Mr. Gaztok paused, tapping a fist sideways against his chin in anguish. He looked up, searching the crowd as if he were lost. “As of only a few minutes ago, the Venerable Nicholas Pruitt has expired.”

  A collective gasp rose from the audience. Sage shot an uneasy look at Weston, but as before, he kept his eyes fixed on the stage. The only evidence he’d even heard Mr. Gaztok was the grim line now set along his lips.

  “Please. Please.” Mr. Gaztok held his hands in the air in an attempt to calm their anxiety. “I understand you’re upset. I am too. But in this difficult time, I will remind you that the Quorum in its infinite wisdom has duly considered this eventuality. And in fact—despite the tragedy that this great man’s passing is—those of us in Eprah’s inner circle have been preparing for this for awhile. We have planned for it, and your leadership will not feel the burden of this tragedy as I will soon formalize my place as a member of your Quorum. From this loss, I have every confidence that our great nation will rise stronger than ever.”

  Pausing once again, Mr. Gaztok lifted his hands to either side as if he were trying to embrace the entire room—the entire nation.

  “It seems only fitting for us to end our celebration today to usher in a time of mourning. But it will be short,” he said, “because we are not a people to be held back. We are strong. We are worthy. We are Eprah.” He dropped his hands and nodded, almost to himself. “Thank you.”

  He dismissed the crowd to a roar of applause, waiting a few minutes for the people’s support to die down before he made his way offstage. But, Sage noticed, he made sure to leave before there was so much as a dip in their enthusiasm. He certainly knew how to put on a show, knew how to work the crowd. In just a few minutes, he had turned a tragedy into a cause for new celebration.

  Eprah was gaining a brand new leader, and Sage knew enough about the man to be terrified.

  Even as the applause died down, Weston sat unmoving beside her. In fact, he hadn’t reacted to anything that Mr. Gaztok had actually said. Not even a twitch once the man had started speaking. She couldn’t help but wonder how that was even possible. Everything inside her was screaming at that moment, begging for her to go back on her word and run—to save herself while she still had the chance. To save herself before Mr. Gaztok decided to circumvent Weston’s authority because she was no longer worth keeping around.

  It was probably irrational. She knew that, but it didn’t stop her self-preservation instincts from kicking in.

  By the time she pulled herself back from her thoughts, the Grand Hall was halfway empty. She looked around in bewilderment, surprised that Weston had once again made no motion to leave. As a benefactor, he could’ve commanded everyone to get out of his way, but he seemed content to lag behind the crowd instead, taking his time.

  “I think perhaps it is time we left.”

  Sage’s head snapped in Weston’s direction. His voice was the perfect picture of calm, but she knew he had to be anything but on the inside.

  “Ok,” she said shakily, getting to her feet beside him.

  Her legs felt heavy as she
followed him, as if they were bearing the fresh burden of her emotions. She didn’t know exactly what would happen with Mr. Gaztok in an even more influential role, but she didn’t need a great imagination to know it would be awful. Few men were as heartless as he was.

  “What is this, Weston?”

  Except him.

  Sage froze a half-step behind her benefactor. She’d know that voice anywhere. And it was angry.

  “Edward.” Weston smiled warmly, acting as though he hadn’t heard the venom layered in the other man’s voice. “Good to see you.”

  “Answer the question. What in Eprah’s name is she doing at your side?”

  “You didn’t really think I’d rid myself of my pair for your sake, did you, Edward?” Weston eyed the benefactor, amusement dancing across his features. “Honestly. She’s far too entertaining to put down.”

  Weston glanced at Sage, allowing his gaze to roam over her freely. She sucked in a breath. Her cheeks reddened. It wasn’t hard to act unsettled by the intensity of his attention. She didn’t even need to pretend.

  “Of course, she’s a bit low on Chances these days, so I’d be quite appreciative if you’d leave any of her further indiscretions to my discipline. You understand,” Weston said, turning back to Grayson.

  “I saw you kill her,” Edward said, his voice low and laced with a threat.

  “I think it’s quite obvious that you did not.” Weston held his gaze coolly. “I’m sure you’ve never had the experience of losing so many Chances at once, but I can assure you, the pain is unbearable.”

  Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “She was dead.”

  “She passed out. I didn’t realize I was supposed to clarify the difference with you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No?” Weston arched an eyebrow. “Your inquisition suggests otherwise.”

  The other benefactor’s lips twitched. His gaze flicked from Weston to Sage. She kept her eyes downcast, allowing him to believe she’d been cowed by her near-death experience. When she dared lift her eyes again, she saw his expression was still filled with incredulity, but it did not match the next words that came out of his mouth.