The Founders

by Dylan Steel

  Weston paused, leaning forward slightly as he surveyed the room deliberately. “Do you trust the company you keep?”

  “Them? Yes. You?” Dred sneered, shaking his head. “Don’t insult me.”

  “That is not my intention.” Weston spread his hands placatingly. “But what I have to say is not for casual observers. For both our sakes,” he added.

  “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my people.”

  “Noted.” He tipped his head appreciatively. “Eprah has outlived its time. The truth is out, and the Lawless are planning to move soon. I need to be sure I can count on your support when we do. We’re prepared to fulfill our end of the agreement our fathers made two years ago.”

  “The agreement.” Dred snorted and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “You want our support,” he said dryly. “You want our support—you want us to offer up our lives for your cause—but this isn’t something you can pay for.” He shook his head. “The price for it is too high.”

  “This has always been the goal. Freedom for both of our people. The price is high, yes, but so is the payment. You know that.”

  “I never agreed to—”

  “Your father did,” Weston said quietly.

  “My father is dead. Because of another request your father made,” Dred said, barely controlled anger simmering beneath his words. “Aligning ourselves with the Lawless has cost us a great deal. I won’t repeat his mistakes. The agreement was between our fathers, and neither one of them is here to enforce it.”

  Tension spilled through the room. Sage’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. The men by the door flexed their arms, setting hands on the weapons they carried on their belts. They didn’t have bracelets to rely on. She swallowed. This barely-cordial meeting could quickly turn into a bloodbath.

  “If you will not honor the agreement, there will be no place for you in the new world.” Weston’s voice was low—a warning. “No land set aside for your people to call their own. No mercy should you get in our way.”

  “You dare come to my door and make threats?”

  “It’s not a threat. I’m just stating the facts,” Weston said coolly, all hint of friendliness vanished. Sage held her breath, not daring to interrupt.

  “You attempt to bargain as though your victory is a foregone conclusion.” The corner of Dred’s mouth ticked up knowingly. “But you’ve been on the streets tonight. We both know what will happen if you attempt to rally the people to your cause. They are unruly, undisciplined, impulsive, selfish—hardly the makings of soldiers for a war.”

  “There will not be a war,” Weston said. Sage looked at him sharply. How exactly was he planning to overthrow Eprah? “But we will take the city, and if you abandon us in our hour of need, we will bestow no courtesies upon you under a new rule. Your people will continue to be outcasts—your betrayal not forgotten.”

  “Is it not a betrayal of my people to offer them up for slaughter when we could continue our lives in peace and safety?”

  “Would they not choose to fight for their own freedom? Or is it simply a burden that you alone are unwilling to bear? Your peace and safety is a lie. An illusion which is fed by little more than luck and my family’s generosity.”

  “That is the second time you’ve threatened me under my own roof,” Dred growled. “There won’t be a third.”

  Weston laughed. “No roof in this city is yours. I’ve far more claim to this room than you ever will.

  “Get out.” Dred’s face was red.

  Weston stood, nodding for Sage to join him. “Consider it. We will take the city, and I won’t offer the terms of the agreement again. You have one week to give me a different answer.”

  Dred’s fists slammed against the table. “Out! Now!” he roared.

  Without another word, Weston pulled Sage toward the door, and the man there had no trouble holding it open for them—or slamming it behind them as they walked out.

  Sage flinched as the sound echoed across the narrow alley. They were still hidden in the shadows, but she noticed a couple men look up at the noise and start walking in their direction. Whether officers or citizens, it didn’t matter. No one out tonight was a friend.

  “What now?” she whispered, scared of drawing more attention to themselves.

  The men’s clothing came into view as they neared them. Blood pumped faster through her veins. Officers.

  Weston’s eyes fell on the men moving toward them. His lips thinned as he grabbed her arm and led her briskly in the opposite direction. “Now we need to disappear.”

  18. RAZZ

  “We’re not going down there…” Sage bit the inside of her lip as she looked at Weston uncertainly, stopping just behind him. Shooting another wary glance down the set of stairs that disappeared into darkness, she shifted her weight. “You said the tunnels were too risky right now.”

  “If we don’t get off the streets, we’ll get caught by the Peace or protesters. We won’t make it back to the apartment, and we won’t make it out of the city tonight.” Looking over her shoulder, he lowered his voice as he pressed a hand to her back, ushering them out of sight. “And it’s not a tunnel.”

  Sage wrinkled her brow in confusion, but she didn’t fight him as he led her down the stairs.

  Their footsteps echoed against the damp stones, and Sage gripped her benefactor’s arm tighter as the light faded behind them. She had no idea how he could see where they were going.

  “Almost there.”

  “Almost wh—” Sage cut herself off as a soft glow appeared in front of them.

  The light grew larger as they neared it, and an outline of a door came into view. The ground vibrated beneath their feet with each step closer. Silver letters winked in and out of view, illuminating fully when the door swung open and a couple stumbled out. Razz.

  “What is this place?” she breathed.

  Weston flashed her a grin but didn’t say a word as he pulled her through the door.

  Music spilled through Sage’s bones, shaking her to her core as she followed Weston through a crowd of writhing bodies. She bit back a surge of disgust as she squeezed between several pairs of dancers who didn’t seem to care whether they rubbed up against her or their partners.

  “You’ve really never been here before?” Weston leaned over her shoulder, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the music.

  “No. Should I?”

  He shrugged in response, not bothering to shout over the crowd again as he guided them toward the bar in the center of the room. Sage took a seat beside him as he leaned over the counter. She assumed he was ordering drinks, but it was impossible to make out what he said over the noise in the room. The deep throbbing in her chest was so obvious now that she wondered how she hadn’t heard the music from the street above.

  A moment later, the man behind the counter plunked two drinks in front of them, both swirling silver and blue. She eyed them uncertainly and made no move to grab one, not sure she wanted to try whatever the strange concoction was. Weston winked at her and grabbed his glass, taking a quick swig.

  Biting back her skepticism, she followed his lead and tried a sip. A fruity sensation rolled over her tongue and down her throat, followed quickly by a sharp, sour sting. Oddly, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  Wincing as she downed another swallow, she leaned back against the bar so that she could get a better view of the club.

  “They’re all out past curfew.”

  She caught Weston’s nod out of the corner of her eye.

  “But they’re not like…” The brightness in Sage’s eyes dimmed as she looked up at Weston, unable to forget the horrors they’d witnessed earlier. “…the others,” she finished lamely.

  A muscle along his jaw twitched. “No, they’re not.”

  “Are they—is this a Lawless club?”

  He shook his head. “They’re normal citizens. They just want to live a little.”

  Sage stared out over the crow
d thoughtfully, taking another sip of her drink. A strange warmth spread through her limbs, and she felt the tightness in her shoulders begin to loosen.

  “We should be safe here until curfew lifts in the morning,” Weston said, lowering his voice as he leaned over her shoulder. “Hopefully things will have calmed down enough by then to leave without detection.”

  She nodded, only half paying attention. “How is this place even possible?”

  “Officers aren’t in infinite supply. They can’t police the entire city—especially the less obvious places. And some of them need an outlet too.” Weston tipped his head toward the edge of the dance floor where Sage recognized a few familiar faces from her time working at the Peace.

  Stiffening, her heart thumped faster for a moment before she remembered they were both still in disguise. The officers wouldn’t know who they were—and even if they did, they were clearly off duty and had no moral qualms with bending some of Eprah’s laws. They were safe for the moment.

  “I guess you decided it’s not so bad?” Weston’s teasing voice jerked her from her thoughts.

  A playful grin spread over his face as he nodded to the drink in her hand. She frowned, tracing his gaze. Her glass was empty. She hadn’t even realized she’d drunk the whole thing.

  Face reddening, she set the glass down on the bar. “It was better than it looked,” she said casually, ignoring the way her pulse sped back up under his gaze.

  “I know.” He set his own glass down, staring across the crowd as he spoke. “We may as well enjoy ourselves while we’re stuck here.”

  “What do you—”

  Winking, Weston grabbed her hand and pulled her forward with a quick jerk, dragging her onto the dance floor before she had a chance to protest.

  This music, this dancing—it was nothing like the formal, rehearsed steps he’d led her through at Grayson’s party. Sage tensed as feet stomped all around them, bodies bumping and brushing against them. There was no sense of decorum here. No inhibitions. No rules.

  “Are we going to talk about what happened back there? With Dred,” she added before Weston could pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about.

  His expression darkened. “This isn’t the best place.”

  “Weston…” She looked up into his eyes. “What he said—about whether or not I knew everything…”

  His jaw tightened. “You already know it’s not an accident that Dred didn’t show that night when you went to meet him. I’m sure he’d like to think it’s a secret that he can use as leverage against me.”

  She frowned. “I thought you two were on the same side. Why does he need leverage?”

  “I’ve told you before. Knowledge can be more powerful than any weapon. And we’re only allies when it’s mutually beneficial.”

  Sage nodded, thoughtful. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving me that night.”

  A strange look crossed his face for only an instant before it was gone. He pressed a hand against the small of her back and pulled her closer, spinning her a safe distance away from a particularly loose dancer behind her. Every inch of her skin tingled with awareness of just how close their bodies were. Blue eyes pierced hers, locking her in a gaze that electrified every nerve in her body.

  “I very much regret that I orchestrated a situation that put you in danger. But I can’t say that I regret that it didn’t work out exactly as I’d planned—that you wound up coming with me to my estate instead of staying in the city.”

  Her heart gave a small flutter in response.

  “So I really can blame you for everything,” she said jokingly, making a feeble attempt to get her emotions under control.

  “Yes,” he said seriously, a brief flash of amusement in his eyes the only hint he was teasing her right back.

  “Ok. As long as you agree.”

  She sighed dramatically and leaned against him, letting him lead her through the foreign dance. No rules, just a fluid, raw sort of movement. Her body relaxed in his arms, and she had to admit—she was starting to see the club’s appeal. And as they twisted and swayed, it became excruciatingly apparent how well their bodies fit together. Her heart pounded faster in her chest, and she wasn’t sure whether it was from dancing or from the man in front of her, staring at her.

  “Still want to be a Rogue?” he whispered in her ear.

  She looked up at him in surprise. It was no secret he knew her former plans, but she’d never admitted them out loud before. But now—after meeting with the Rogues and seeing firsthand how they only looked out for their own interests—her cheeks flushed with shame that she’d ever thought that joining them was a good idea.

  “No. I don’t,” she said firmly, and she thought she saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. She swallowed hard as she continued, “I don’t want to be with them. I want to be with you.”

  Burying her face in his chest before he could say anything else, she let his sweet, woodsy aroma fill her senses. Her head was spinning with everything she’d seen and heard that evening, but for this one moment, standing there dancing with Weston, she knew everything was going to be alright.

  She wasn’t sure quite when it had happened. When she’d gone from fearing the man in front of her to fearing she’d lose him too, like all the others. Because she cared for him. Because he’d been forced on her, but he’d never forced himself on her. He’d protected her, protected others. He was the type of man who not only could make Eprah better, but wanted to as well. And he was. They were.

  Weston brushed his knuckles over her cheek, and she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. There was a tortured longing there that she’d begun to recognize all too well. And—if she was being completely honest with herself—it was a longing that she felt too.

  “The Rogues are as likely to stab us in the back as they are to help us. They’ve only ever been out for themselves. And what comes next for us—it won’t be simple.” He hesitated. “Being with me isn’t simple.”

  “I know.” It was her turn to smile in amusement. “But not much in my life has ever been simple.”

  “That’s because you understand the difference between right and wrong. What this world is and what it should be—what it has the potential to be. You’ve always understood.” His brow furrowed, a serious expression falling over his face as he rubbed his thumb back and forth lightly along her jaw. “We are both bound, you and I. Bound to one another and bound to Eprah’s laws. But there’s only one bond I’m trying to break, and it’s not the one that binds your life to mine.”

  Her eyes searched his as her stomach tumbled. He was looking at her so intensely that her knees grew weak. “I know. I don’t want to break that bond either,” she whispered.

  “I’d hoped…”

  He blinked, not bothering finishing his thought with words. He dipped his head toward hers, meeting her lips with his own. At first, the kiss was gentle, tentative—and perfect. Butterflies burst into flight in her stomach at his touch, and for the first time—despite everything wrong around them—she thought she might explode from happiness.

  A contented moan slipped from Sage as she kissed him back, savoring every moment. He deepened his embrace, pressing even closer, and the noise in the room faded as she felt the world fall away around them until all that was left—all that mattered—was the two of them.

  There would be plenty of reasons to remember this night, plenty of problems to solve later—but this moment, this feeling, would be the one she’d choose to remember long past Eprah’s last days. And even if all of their allies turned against them, they would make sure Eprah was brought to its knees.

  Together.

  19. TRAGEDY

  The horse snorted in protest as Sage shut it back in its stall. She grinned, sparing a moment to rub its nose before turning back to Weston. Her smile faltered when she saw the somber look on his face.

  They’d ridden hard so they’d get back home while it was still morning. But being back at the estate meant returning to reality.
No more hiding who they were, no more kisses stolen on the run. Just responsibilities—the weight of a nation and its people, now resting squarely on their shoulders.

  “Just because the Rogues might not help doesn’t mean it’s hopeless,” she said softly, slipping her hand into his as they started toward the main house.

  The troubled look on his face didn’t dissipate as he glanced down at her. “I know it’s not.” He rolled his shoulders, fixing his gaze straight ahead. “But it would be much easier if they’d agree. And the people in the city are unpredictable at best. I’d hoped for a better way to even our odds.”

  “It wasn’t exactly the best news we could’ve gotten,” she admitted, shutting away the image replaying again in her mind of the man burning to death, “but we can still—”

  Eliza stumbled out the door just as Weston reached for it, stopping Sage in the middle of her thought. She looked back and forth between them wildly, her face flushed as she gasped for air. “Mr. Gaztok’s waiting for you,” she spluttered.

  Weston froze. “He’s here?”

  “With the other Quorum candidates.” She nodded, thrusting a wet towel into his hands as she continued. “To clean up your…” Her finger traced a circle in the air around her face.

  “Thank you.” He picked up his pace, rubbing the towel over his already-fading disguise.

  “He’s gathered the others, and Martha’s trying to delay them in the other wing,” Eliza continued quickly. “She didn’t tell them you were gone because you said not to. But they want to meet with you. Now.”

  “Tell Martha to bring them here,” Weston said, pushing open the door to his office. “I’ll be ready.”

  “Alright, but…” Eliza hesitated, glancing at Sage. “I don’t think they’ll want to talk with her in the—”

  “It won’t be a problem,” he said sharply. “Just go.”

  Eliza turned on her heel, rushing down the corridor.

  “She’s right, you know,” Sage said, following him inside haltingly. She glanced over her shoulder at the door still standing ajar. “I shouldn’t be here. They’ll—”