by Tania Hutley
Tori.
I open my mouth to say her name, then clamp my jaw shut. She doesn’t know who I really am. To her, I’m the enemy.
Cale leaps to his feet. “Tori! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
Her eyes widen as he moves to her side, and her mouth drops open with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re here to negotiate a peace treaty.” Sentin’s voice is loud enough to cut across everyone else. He and I are still sitting at the dining table. His gaze is focused on the imperator, addressing him instead of Tori. “We would like to continue those discussions.”
The imperator folds his arms, glaring down his nose at Sentin. “This is no longer a negotiation. I will inform you of the terms of our agreement, and you’ll accept those terms. If you don’t agree, I’ll demonstrate what will happen to all of you.” He nods at Tori. “I’ll start with this Tritoner, who crossed illegally into our country, and is therefore subject to the strictest penalty under our laws. She’ll be executed without trial.”
Cale draws in a sharp breath, and I can see the effort it takes him not to shout a protest. By his side, Tori stares open-mouthed at the imperator, her face pale. She’s wearing clean, Deiterran-style clothing, and looks healthy, so at least they don’t seem to have been mistreating her.
Tori’s gaze goes to Prince Otho, and her expression changes. She frowns at him, and he gives his head an almost imperceptible shake.
“What exactly are your terms?” asks Sentin.
The imperator’s arrogant stare moves to me. “President Morelle will immediately resign, appointing me as her replacement. I will be both Imperator of Deiterra, and President of Triton.”
Sentin doesn’t look surprised, let alone shocked. “In Triton, we have democratic elections,” he says. “The presidential election will be held in—”
“Not anymore.” The imperator flicks a dismissive hand. “Triton is now under my control.”
“Never!” Cale glares at the imperator.
“That’s a little presumptuous.” There’s no hint of anger in Sentin’s voice. If anything, he sounds mildly amused. “You’ve never set foot in Triton, yet you’d like to control it?”
“I have your president,” snarls the imperator. “She’ll do what I tell her.”
“Have you forgotten we have forty-seven knights we can call on?”
I manage not to gape at Sentin, but it takes an effort to keep my mouth closed and my expression neutral. Cale’s eyes widen, but he also has his jaw clamped shut.
The imperator smirks, and behind him his legates all fail to hide smug smiles. The only one whose expression doesn’t change is Otho. My guess is that he doesn’t know his father has wiped the Skins’ chips.
“Have you tried calling your knights?” asks the imperator.
“Of course. And I know that you think you’ve deactivated them. However, I can reactivate them whenever I wish.”
The imperator scoffs. “That’s impossible. We erased the knights’ connections with their human operators.”
“Very well. Then I’ll make you a deal.” Sentin stands up. “Take me to the place you’re keeping the knights, and I’ll reactivate them while you watch. If I succeed, you’ll agree to the terms I’ve proposed for our peace treaty. If I fail, the president will resign.”
I stand too, still not sure what Sentin’s playing at, but wanting to back him up. There’s no way he can reactivate the knights once their chips have been wiped. Can he?
The imperator narrows his eyes. “Your knights are dead. They won’t come back to life.”
Sentin cocks his head. “But if they have that functionality, don’t you want to know about it?”
The imperator stares at Sentin a moment longer, then gives a sharp nod. “The president will accompany us. When your knights fail to reactivate, she will immediately record her resignation to be broadcast to Triton.” He motions to Cale and Tori. “Your two compatriots will remain here, under guard. If you refuse to comply, they’ll both become subject to our laws, and be executed as illegal immigrants.”
Sentin nods. “Agreed.”
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay silent. There’d better be a damn good reason Sentin’s willing to use Cale and Tori’s lives as bargaining chips.
The imperator turns and sweeps toward the door. His legates follow.
Otho hesitates, looking at Tori. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he murmurs so softly that only my enhanced hearing lets me pick it up. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’ll do whatever I can.”
I don’t get to hear what Tori says back to him, because the legionnaires step forward, motioning me to follow the imperator and his staff. Sentin strides out ahead of me without looking back.
I hesitate, wishing I had a moment longer so I could speak privately to Cale and Tori. If the imperator makes good on his threat, this could be the last time I ever see them. I only wish I weren’t in this Skin. I want to let Tori know I’m not a stranger, and say goodbye to Cale as me, instead of somebody he hates.
“Come on, Madam President.” Prince Otho’s voice is gentle. “There’s no point resisting.”
The legionnaires take my arms to escort me out, and I crane my neck around to get one last look at Cale and Tori before I let them pull me out the door.
Cale stretches his hand toward me, his expression stricken. He starts mouthing something, but the door closes before I can tell what he’s saying.
Once in the hallway, the legionnaires let go of my arms, but stay on either side of me. With them as my shadows, I can’t talk to Sentin to ask what he’s planning. More legionnaires march in front of the imperator and his legates, as well as behind me. If I fight back, I might not be able to overpower them all, and I’d put Cale and Tori’s lives at risk.
Outside the palace, cars are waiting for us. As we drive to the building we visited last night, I stare sightlessly out the window, trying to figure out what Sentin could possibly have planned. But by the time we pull up to it, I’m no closer to an answer.
In daylight, the squat buildings on this street look a little depressing. The legionnaires run ahead to hold the front doors open, then we all file through, surprising several white-coated workers in the building’s small entrance. “Your Excellency,” they chorus, bowing low to the imperator and Prince Otho.
The imperator waves them all aside, barely slowing down. He knows exactly where he’s going as he leads us to the room Sentin and I visited last night. And when his legionnaires throw open the door, I see the same thing I did then. All our knights are standing still and quiet. They haven’t moved, of course. Their chips have all been wiped.
“Here are your knights,” the imperator turns to Sentin with a cold smile curving his lips. “They’re as dead as your compatriots will be, unless your president resigns.”
Sentin starts into the room, then stops and turns back to the imperator as though he’s just thought of something. “Would you like to invite your scientists to watch me bring the knights back to life? I can only do it once. I’m sure they won’t want to miss it.”
The imperator studies him, his expression suspicious. “Very well,” he says at last. He turns to one of his legionnaires and gives him an order. The man hurries off, presumably to find the scientists in charge of the place.
“Come in.” Sentin opens the door wide, beckoning the imperator and his legates into the cramped room.
Otho’s face drops as he stares into the small space, and he tugs uncomfortably at the neck of his shirt. “I’ll wait out here.” He steps backward, and I remember what he said about being claustrophobic. “I can see perfectly well from the hallway.”
Sentin nods. “It’s a quick procedure. You won’t need to wait long.”
Four white-coated scientists approach the doors, craning their necks to try to see in past the press of people.
I move backward with Otto, wanting to give the legates and scientists as much space as possible. As strong as I am now, living in the shelter ma
de me wary of letting strange people get too close. And if Sentin’s plan fails, I may need to try and fight my way out of here. I can’t imagine the knights coming back to life, but if Sentin really does have a way to make that happen, things could get messy. Whatever happens, I’m ready for anything.
The imperator seems to be the only one in the small room to have a small circle of respectful space around him. The legates and scientists jostle with each other, cramming in against the knights. Some legionnaires take up positions beside the door, standing to attention, the rest stand stiffly beside Otho and me, making the hallway almost as crowded as the room with the knights.
Otho’s still tugging at his collar. “It’s hot,” he says. “Are you hot?” He turns to the legionnaires. “Stay here. We won’t go far.” He motions me to walk with him and we move further down the hallway, away from the room.
“As you know, the knights’ chips are no longer functional.” Sentin’s voice drifts to me, muffled but easy to pick up with my sharp hearing. “However, one of the Skins holds the key to instantly restoring their coding. It’s the instrument I’ll use to bring them all back to life.
“Which Skin?” The imperator sounds impatient.
“A knight with new technology. It has a yellow stain on its hand.”
Next to me, Otho asks quietly, “Can he really bring the knights back to life?’
“I don’t know.” I frown, listening harder for what’s happening in the room. Why does Sentin want them to look for Clayton’s Skin?
“This one has a yellow stain on its hand,” says one of the legates. “But it’s as dead as the others.”
“Ah, that’s the one. Do you see the markings on the back of its neck?” Sentin’s voice is more muffled now. I assume he and the others are crowded around the knight, searching for markings that I’m pretty sure don’t exist.
I have a very bad feeling about this. Whatever Sentin’s up to, I don’t see how it can possibly end well.
The prince shakes his head, looking as troubled as I feel. “Surely if there were new technology, you’d know about it, Madam President? It’s hard to believe—”
With a deafening BOOM, the room Sentin’s in explodes.
Chapter Fourteen
The force of the explosion knocks me and the prince backward, slamming us together against the wall. As we go sprawling, the heat from the fireball rolls over me. My ears ring.
I lie frozen for a moment. Stunned. Then I scramble to my feet, staring in horror at the fire that’s engulfed the room. A fire nobody could survive.
But Sentin can’t have blown himself up. There’s no way he’d kill himself. He must still be alive.
“Father,” croaks Otho. He’s still on the floor, trying to pull himself up to standing. His face is red from the heat, and he looks as stunned as I am.
Water bursts from a sprinkler on the ceiling, a weak drizzle that sputters unevenly. Its coldness is a relief on my singed skin, but it’s doing nothing to put out the flames. They’re roaring even higher, and the heat is becoming more intense.
“Come on. We need to get out of here.” I bend and help the prince to his feet, as several of his legionnaires drag themselves off the floor.
I let two of them push me away from the prince and take hold of him themselves to help him outside. One legionnaire keeps hold of my arm, dragging me with him though I’m perfectly capable of walking.
My brain is the only part of me that isn’t working. I can’t think straight. How could Sentin possibly have escaped that room? The fire is burning so fiercely, I can’t imagine anyone making it out. But the alternative is impossible. Somehow, he must have escaped the flames.
Once on the sidewalk outside the building, I gulp in lungfuls of fresh air.
“Please excuse me, Prince Otho, but where is the imperator?” A legionnaire asks the question once and then again, as workers pour out of the burning building.
The prince’s face is still mottled red, and his eyes are glassy. He stares at the ground, shaking his head, ignoring the legionnaire’s questioning. He must be in shock. Either that, or his ears are ringing worse than mine, and he can’t hear anything.
“I think they’re dead,” I tell the legionnaire. “The imperator and his legates were in the room that exploded.”
The legionnaire stares at me with wide, horrified eyes. “Dead?” he repeats. “The imperator is dead?”
Around us, everyone starts murmuring, repeating the news. The sound quickly swells.
“What happened?” demands the legionnaire. “What caused the explosion?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. The room just went up in flames.”
“A bomb? A booby trap?”
“I don’t know.”
The prince slowly lifts his head to stare at me. “You must have known what would happen.” His eyes narrow. “It was a trap. You and Sentin planned it.”
“No, I swear, I had no idea. I’m as shocked as you are.” The words sound breathless. My lungs are laboring because I can’t quite catch my breath, and my hands are shaking. Nothing seems real. If I could untangle my thoughts, maybe I could figure out what just happened.
“Why should I believe you?” he demands.
“If I’d thought Sentin was planning to kill himself—” My voice breaks. Sentin’s dead. He’s really dead. I can’t deny it any longer.
Which means the President’s Skin is mine forever.
Wait. What am I thinking? I must be a terrible person to let a thought like that cross my mind now. Sentin’s barely dead, and he was young and brilliant, and had his whole life ahead of him. More than that, he was my friend.
What kind of monster am I that my sorrow is tinged with relief?
“His promise to wake the knights was a lie,” spits the prince. “It was just a trap.”
I force my swirling emotions down so I can answer. “I didn’t know what Sentin was doing, or why he was talking about the knights waking up. I thought maybe he’d developed a new technology.”
“But you suspected he was lying?”
I squeeze my hands into fists to stop them trembling. “I wasn’t sure. And if he was lying, I had no idea why.”
“He wanted them all to get close, so they’d all be killed.” The prince’s mouth twists. “Our legionnaires searched you. How did Sentin get an explosive?”
“They didn’t search us. Sentin assured them we had no weapons, and they accepted his word. So did I. You think I would have let him blow himself up if I had any clue that’s what he was planning?”
A heavy weight presses against my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. As impossible as it is to believe, Sentin’s really gone.
Now I understand why he made me promise to negotiate a peace treaty. He knew he wouldn’t be around to do it himself. But how can I possibly ask for peace after the imperator’s murder?
“You killed my father,” snaps the prince. “I should have you executed.”
My head lifts at his harsh tone, and a flare of grief and anger ignites in my chest, strengthening my voice. “You could do that. But haven’t we had enough killing?”
He lets out a furious sound. “You’re the ones who waged war on us.”
“Yes, and we were wrong to do that. Let’s not make it worse.”
“That’s your argument for why I shouldn’t have you shot?”
“It’s my argument for why we need to negotiate a peace treaty. Together, we can stop any more senseless violence. Deiterra and Triton will both be better off.”
For a moment, I dare to hope the prince might agree. He seems a reasonable man, far more reasonable than his father. Then his lips press together, and he lifts one hand to his eyes as though the enormity of what just happened has hit him again, even harder. His shock might sweep away all reason.
“We’ll talk more about it later.” He draws his hand back to his side and turns to the legionnaires. “Make sure everyone gets out of the building. Are the fire trucks and ambulances on their way?”
>
The closest legionnaire snaps a salute. “Yes, Your Excellency. They’re almost here.”
Prince Otho motions toward the crowd of scientists. “Get these people further away from the building. If the ambulances are delayed, you may use my cars to take the injured to the hospital.”
“I can hear a fire truck, Your Excellency. The ambulances should be just behind it.”
“Good. I want that fire out quickly, and all the captured Knight Skins salvaged. Have the knights moved to a secure location, and ensure the scientists can resume their work.” He moves away, checking on the people who are still being carried out of the burning building.
I suck in a breath. My legs feel weak and I’d give anything to be able to sink to the ground and drop my head into my hands. If Sentin were here, he’d probably order me not to fall apart. I can imagine his calm voice telling me to remember what I’m here to do, that mourning the dead is a luxury I can’t afford. Still, I can’t stop the sick, miserable feeling that’s constricting my chest and squeezing my insides.
Otho is directing the legionnaires to help the crowd. He’s hiding his grief well.
Two legionnaires march over to me. “We’re to take you back to the palace, ma’am.”
I nod and let them put me in a car. Anyway, it’s not like I have a choice, and the prince is busy. Better to let the shock wear off and talk to him later.
But the moment I’m in the car, sandwiched between two stern-faced legionnaires, I feel my composure slip, and the pressure on my chest becomes almost unbearable.
Was Sentin planning this all along?
Why was he willing to pay such a high price?
I wish I could convince myself he managed to somehow slip out of that room unhurt. It would be the world’s best magic trick if he did.
Now my selfish relief has gone, replaced by a sense of loss so strong, I can hardly breathe. I’m never going to see him again.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my throat burning as I fight back tears. His handsome face is imprinted in my memory, the way he looked last night in the candlelight when he confessed his miserable childhood and my heart broke for him.
