by Tania Hutley
He was the invisible guiding force behind everything, the one with the plan, the genius who always had an opinion. Now he’s gone, I feel lost.
What am I going to do without him?
Chapter Fifteen
Since Sentin’s death, I’ve grown to hate the imperator’s palace, mainly because I’ve been cooped up doing nothing for two days, confined to quarters while Otho decided whether or not I could be trusted. This is the first time the legionnaires have let me out of my room.
Now, I’m sitting on an upright wooden chair in one of the palace’s luxurious sitting rooms. The two legionnaires who escorted me here said I’ve been summoned for an audience with Otho. They’re standing by the door, their hands by their sides, staring straight ahead.
The door opens and Otho comes in, with Cale and Tori behind him.
Cale’s face lights up when he sees me, and I’m so relieved to see them both, I want to jump up and hug them. Instead, I stand and duck my head in a respectful bow, keeping my gaze on Otho.
“Your Excellency,” I say. My legionnaire guards haven’t exactly been talkative, but one did tell me that the ceremonial transfer of power isn’t yet complete and it’ll be a few days before Otho officially becomes the new imperator. Still, it can’t hurt to start using his title now.
Otho gives me the barest nod in return, and sits on the couch opposite me. Tori settles herself next to him. Cale leans against the wall next to the fireplace, and I sink back onto the hard wooden chair, debating what to say. Judging by the way Otho is staring at me with narrowed, suspicious eyes, he still hasn’t made up his mind about me.
“Thank you for seeing me.” I meet Otho’s gaze. “I want to assure you again that I didn’t know what Sentin was going to do. It shocked me as much as it did you.”
“I have no way to know whether you’re telling the truth.” Otho’s voice is clipped.
“You’re right.” I spread my hands, palms up. “You can choose whether to believe me or not. But really, your choice is whether or not you want to negotiate a peace treaty with Triton.”
“Why should I negotiate with you?”
“Because you want the things I can offer,” I say. “Food. Technology. Infrastructure. The same things Sentin talked about.” I only wish I knew more about what Sentin wanted. I’m trying to keep my promise to him with only the bare fragments of information he gave me.
Otho grunts, sounding unconvinced. “Why shouldn’t I do what my father wanted and use you as a hostage? I could get what I want without giving anything in return.”
I nod. “You could threaten to kill me, but it won’t work. If I die, the election will be brought forward so Triton can elect a new president. Nobody’s going to try very hard to stop that happening, and I don’t have any family who’ll rush to save me.”
Cale pushes himself off the wall, turning to face Otho. “The president’s right. It wouldn’t be a good long-term strategy. You’d get some food and supplies, but without heavy industry, you’re crippled. What happens when your water tanks disintegrate? Or the last of your solar cells degrade? Do you have the resources to fix them?”
I stare at him in surprise. Don’t the Deiterrans have any factories? Maybe their water and power systems were built before the wall went up. Or perhaps our soldiers torched their factories as well as their food supply.
Tori leans closer to Otho and pitches her voice low, as though she’s here as his advisor. “If you make a deal, you could get everything you need.”
“Your knights are dead.” Otho doesn’t take his eyes from me. “Without them, Triton is less of a threat. My army could invade.”
“We still have more soldiers than you do,” I point out. “Not that I want to use them. More fighting will get us nowhere.”
“I used to make my living as a professional gamer.” Cale walks over to the other couch in the room and sinks into it. “One of the games I was good at was a strategy game, where you could build relationships with your neighbours, or go to war. The warmongers always ended up worse off than the players who chose diplomacy.”
“In a game?” Otho frowns. “So what?”
“The software was developed by political scientists, who uploaded every real-world event from history into the system’s intelligence. Before the food wars, it was used to make political decisions. Afterward, its creators had the bright idea to turn the software into a game and make money from it.”
Otho fixes me with a glare. “If you don’t want war, why send your knights here to burn our grain stores?”
“It was a mistake. I apologize.” I shift on my hard, uncomfortable chair. “Even if you decide not to trade with us, I’ll ship you enough food so your people won’t go hungry.”
“And if I agree to negotiate a peace treaty? What do you want from me?”
“I’d like you to sell some of your produce to Triton on an ongoing basis. That’s all. And we’ll make sure the arrangement doesn’t leave you with any shortages.”
Otho glances at Tori, and a silent conversation I can’t read passes between them. Does Tori know who I really am? Cale probably told her, if they’ve been able to talk privately. Hopefully she’s on my side and hasn’t tried to convince Otho that I’m his enemy.
“Why do you want our fruits and vegetables so badly?” Otho asks.
Truth is, I’m not sure of the answer. Sentin seemed to think it would mean that one day Deiterra and Triton could unite, but knowing him, he was talking about something that might happen decades from now. And I can hardly tell the prince that I’m striking this deal because I made a promise to the man who killed his father.
“We don’t have any food like yours,” I say instead. “Tritoners will be eager to taste it.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I can’t help but think how weak that reasoning sounds. But to my surprise, Otho nods as though I’ve given him the answer he was expecting.
“High demand, high profits.” He arches his eyebrows. “No doubt you’ll make a fortune.”
“That’s the idea.” I smile and lean back a little, pretending I’m comfortable even though this chair was clearly designed by someone who’d only ever heard about sitting and never actually done it.
“I’m no expert,” says Cale. “But I think with the right technology, you could easily double or triple your farming output. There’s no reason you can’t grow enough food and vegetables to feed all your people, and export to Triton as well.”
Otho looks up at the ceiling, clearly thinking over the possibilities. After a moment, his gaze comes back to me and his expression hardens. “There’s something else we need to discuss. You can manufacture more Knight Skins in your factories. How do I know you won’t go back to Triton and build another Skin army to invade us?”
“You have my word.”
“That’s not enough.”
Cale leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. “What if we banned Skins altogether? We could close down all development of the technology.”
I frown at him, already shaking my head. There’s no way I can do that. What about my beautiful Leopard Skin? The scientists have been making it better, faster, stronger, and I haven’t even had the chance to try it yet.
Otho purses his lips, considering the offer in silence for several long seconds. “I’d need to send in overseers, to make sure all trace of the technology is destroyed,” he says finally. “Every factory that makes them, every research center, every laboratory. No exceptions.”
Cale nods. “And in return, you’d destroy the Knight Skins you have. Skins would need to be outlawed on both sides of the wall.”
Otho’s gaze turns to me. With an effort, I make my expression as neutral as I can.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “Ban all Skins. Permanently. Or there’s no deal.”
My gaze drags slowly to Cale. He’s the only one who understands how it’ll feel to give up my Leopard Skin. Again.
“We’re better off without Skins.” Cale drops his voice, speaking just to me as though we’re alone. “The technology is too dangerous. We’ve seen what it can do in the wrong hands.”
Otho frowns, probably wondering what he’s talking about.
My heart feels like it’s breaking. Nobody knows about President Morelle’s Skin, so at least I’ll get to keep using it. But I can’t stand the thought of my Leopard Skin being destroyed.
Still, I manage to nod. “I’ll disband the Skin program.”
“And destroy all the Skins?” he insists.
I nod again, unable to say it aloud.
“Good.” Otho leans back. “My coronation is on Friday. I’m willing to accept the deal in principle. We can hammer out the details, and finalize it once I’ve been crowned.”
It’s only Tuesday. I can’t bear to spend another three days shut up in the palace, regretting ever coming here, and worrying about what the Beast might be doing in Triton.
“I have official duties in Triton, and I’ve been away for too long. You understand how many demands there are on a leader, don’t you? I need to get home.”
Otho frowns, his gaze flicking quickly to Tori. “You want to leave right away?”
“Duty calls.” I give him an apologetic look. “But if Tori wouldn’t mind staying behind, she could make sure the lines of communication stay open between us. In fact, the first thing we should do is set up an open channel so we can talk. I want closer ties between Deiterra and Triton. We’ve been separated for too long.”
Tori shrugs. “I could stay for a while,” she says in a voice that’s a little too casual.
Otho’s frown smooths away. “It’d be helpful to have you here.”
I don’t think they’re a couple yet, but judging from the way the prince is looking at her, he’s smitten. Tori’s been through a lot, and I’m not sure she’ll be ready to open up to anyone so soon after Gareth’s death, but I hope she gives him a chance. She deserves to be happy.
I stand up, relieved to prise myself out of the uncomfortable chair, and cross to Otho to offer an outstretched hand. “Let’s seal our agreement, in principle at least. We’ll start by delivering a shipment of food to you as a sign of good faith, and go from there.”
Otho stands up and puts his hand in mine. His handshake is firm. “Very well. I’ll look forward to trading with you.”
“We can also send a delegation of scientists and engineers to help with reviving your infrastructure,” suggests Cale.
The prince offers his hand to Cale and the two men shake.
“What was the name of that game you played?” asks Otho.
“Utopia.”
Otho’s mouth twitches. “Utopia,” he repeats. “Let’s hope so.”
“We’ll make it so,” I tell him.
I’ve fulfilled my promise to Sentin, and everything he wanted is coming to pass. I only wish he were here to see it.
Chapter Sixteen
Otho has his driver take Cale and me as close as we can get to the wall. His imperators escort us the rest of the way, but the walk back to Triton seems longer and slower than when we walked in the other direction. It feels like forever until we’ve made it through the gap in the wall, picking our way through the rubble until the two of us are finally back in Triton.
The stompers guarding the wall stand to attention when they see us, and I give them a nod.
“We’re finally home,” I say to Cale, hearing the relief in my voice.
“You missed Triton?” he asks.
“Being shut in a room wasn’t much fun. Especially with legionnaires always at my door.”
“I didn’t like living in the palace either. It reminded me of Morelle spying on us while we were training for the Skin Hunter contest.”
I glance back at the stompers, then look ahead to the gloomy streets of Old Triton. I can already make out a group of rough sleepers camped out in an alley, far enough from the breach for the stompers not to bother them.
“Compared to Old Triton, Deiterra should have been paradise. I can’t believe I’m so happy to see dark, crowded streets.”
Cale taps his band as he walks. “At least we can finally get back on the network. Change your settings and you should be able to connect.” He punches the change into his control panel, then stops so abruptly I almost walk into him. “Something bad must have happened while we were away. I have dozens of missed calls and messages.”
I pull up my own band’s control panel. As soon as I connect, message alerts start appearing. My chest gets tight when I see how many there are.
Cale is already reading his messages, and his expression is growing darker.
“There’ve been riots.” His jaw clenches. “Your food factories were bombed. Food production had to stop, and now there are shortages.”
“Bombed?” Anger rises in my gut. “Was it the Beast?”
“Who else?” His eyes are dark with rage. “Now he’s selling his own food at inflated prices, and some Old Tritoners can’t afford to eat.”
One of the alerts on my band catches my attention. “I have a message from him. And it’s a long one.”
“From the Beast?”
Instead of answering, I start the recording. The Beast’s face projects above my band, and I turn the sound setting to broadcast so Cale can hear what he says.
“Hello, President Morelle.” The Beast pauses, grinning in a smug way that sets my teeth on edge. “Or whomever you really are inside that Skin. I heard you went away, travelling across the other side of the wall, and you lost all your knights. What a terrible shame.”
I meet Cale’s shocked gaze. “How does he know about the knights?”
Cale shakes his head. “Maybe the same way Sentin was communicating with Detierra. He must have a contact over there to feed him information.”
The possibility raises a lot of questions, but I can’t dwell on what it means, because the Beast is speaking again.
“I decided to look for your real body,” he says. “Your human body. I want to know exactly who it is I’m dealing with.” The image changes, the camera zooming back to take in more of the Beast’s surroundings. He’s standing in a room. When I recognise it, my heart spasms as though my chest has been hit with an electric shock. Behind him, a large window gives an incredible view of both New Triton and Deiterra. It’s the only place in Triton where you can see right over the wall.
“It wasn’t difficult to get past your security, and to the top of your building.” The Beast gazes around my living room in my penthouse apartment. “You really should have your security system updated.”
“Shit,” breathes Cale.
I can’t say a word. My throat is so dry it’s feels like it’s sealed shut.
“I was certain I’d find your human body in your apartment. I thought, where else would you leave it?” The Beast frowns into the camera. “Only it isn’t here, is it? Clever you, hiding it somewhere else.”
“He didn’t find the hidden room,” murmurs Cale. “And he can’t have found your body, or he would have wiped your chip by now.”
“You aren’t here,” says the Beast. “But someone else is.”
My entire body goes cold even before Felicity’s terrified face appears in the holo image.
“Go away,” demands Felicity, her voice shaking. “Go away!”
“But don’t you want to play a game?” The Beast widens his eyes as though he’s trying to look innocent.
Felicity shrinks backward. “I don’t want to.”
“Oh, but you’ll want to play when you see how much fun we can have.” He claps one giant, meaty hand around her wrist. She tries to yank away, crying and struggling to get free, but I know how strong the Beast is. She doesn’t stand a chance.
He drags her closer to the living room’s big feature window. “Don’t blame me for this,” he tells her. “You know who’s really to blame? The person using President Morelle’s Skin. The person who decided to take a trip out there.” He points
to the green fields of Deiterra with his free hand. “Instead of staying here to make sure nothing bad happens to you.”
“I don’t want to play with you.” Tears run down Felicity’s cheeks.
“Do you know who’s using President Morelle’s Skin?”
Felicity shakes her head, letting out loud, gulping sobs. “I don’t know.”
“They didn’t tell you anything, did they? They just left you here all alone.”
“Let me go,” she wails. “Let me go.”
“I will let you go,” he soothes. “But first, let’s get some fresh air.” He kicks the window, slamming one foot into it so hard it shakes.
Thanks to the new, extra-thick glass Sentin installed, it doesn’t break. A rush of air escapes my lips. It’s not relief. No, it can’t be called relief, because Felicity is still in terrible danger. But for an awful moment I thought he was going to smash the glass and throw her out.
“What the hell?” he snarls. “You think some toughened glass is going to stop me?”
The Beast lets Felicity go so he can snatch a gun from under his coat. He fires at the window, squeezing the trigger over and over again. Felicity curls into a ball on the floor with her hands over her ears. Gunshots ring out, and small, dark circles appear in the glass, but it doesn’t break.
The Beast pulls an ammunition clip out of his pocket and reloads. Then he empties the gun into the glass, making a tight circle of marks.
When it still doesn’t break, the Beast kicks inside the damaged circle of glass, grunting with effort as he throws his immense weight against it. The glass shudders and shakes. Cracks appear, snaking all the way up to the window frame. With one last kick, the glass shatters. The Beast grabs what’s left of the pane and yanks it roughly out of the frame.
Felicity moans, curling up even tighter as wind howls in through the broken window.
Cale makes a choking sound.
My body is as tight as a clenched fist. Every muscle strains, and my heart is hammering so hard it hurts. All I want is to reach into the holo image and pull Felicity to safety.
