by Aimee Carter
Maybe Knox had told him. With that small comfort in mind, I watched him in return, not daring to smile or indicate I had any attachment to him. But I didn’t look away, and neither did he.
“Any last words?” said Daxton, and Benjy smiled, his eyes watering.
“Find a little happiness. You’ll be okay.”
He did know. And though I couldn’t give any indication that I knew he was talking to me, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pressing my lips together. Benjy was everything good in my life, and without him, I wasn’t sure happiness could exist. But I would try.
Benjy continued to hold my stare as the executioner walked around to the control panel that would make the floor drop out from under him. Like Sampson’s rope, it was far too short to break his neck. Benjy’s death would be long, and it would be painful. And I could only hope he was prepared, because I sure as hell wasn’t.
“Wait.”
Daxton’s voice rang out just as the executioner’s fingers touched the switch. Greyson and I both looked at him, but he focused on Minister Bradley instead, who nodded once in encouragement.
“Out of the goodness of my heart, and because of your potential to contribute to this world as a VI who was, I believe, merely led down the wrong path—something we have all fallen prey to at one time or another, I’m sure—I hereby grant you, Benjamin Doe, a full pardon for your crimes.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd, and Greyson caught my eye. I couldn’t smile, but everything inside me shattered into a million shards of hope, each one sharper than the next. They cut into me, and if I could have bled to death from desperation alone, I would have.
“I want to make this country better than it has ever been before, and I must acknowledge the mistakes of my forefathers,” continued Daxton, raising his chin. “I wish to extend the hand of friendship and peace to those who have supported the rebels during this difficult time.”
Minister Bradley cleared his throat softly, and he and Daxton exchanged a look. Whatever was going on, this wasn’t completely Daxton’s idea. But he spoke the words anyway, and the world around me began to spin.
“Because of this, Benjamin Doe, you will henceforth work for me as an adviser, and your principles and brilliant mind will help pave the way for peace between our two warring sides. I want nothing more than to help the people of this great nation, and in order to achieve true greatness, we must forgive old wounds and allow ourselves to heal.”
My legs shook beneath me, and it was all I could do to remain standing. I didn’t know why Daxton had chosen Benjy to pardon, and right now, I didn’t care. All that mattered was that Benjy was still alive.
Daxton ended the broadcast, and as soon as the screen went dark, he clapped his hands together. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed,” said Minister Bradley from the edge of the room, and he stepped closer to us. “You did a marvelous job, Your Grace. You showed true mercy to those who needed it most.”
“Why him?” The question came from Greyson, not me. “You could have pardoned anyone.”
“But not everyone was the beloved of the bitch who tried to kill me,” said Daxton, practically preening. “What better revenge than to keep her boyfriend alive and make him work for me for the rest of his miserable life? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare for our return to D.C. I recommend you both do the same.”
With an exaggerated bow, Daxton marched out of his office with Bradley at his heels, leaving Greyson and I alone with the camera crew. I didn’t dare say anything as we headed back to the elevator, and even on our way up, I didn’t speak. It was only when we reached our room that I collapsed on the sofa and buried my face in my hands.
“I don’t know whether to be happy he’s alive or—” Or buried in grief for the others who had died. Benjy might have meant the most to me, but all of those men and women had had families and loved ones, too. It felt wrong to be happy. It felt wrong to be anything but catatonic with heartache for all the lives we had lost in this war.
“You can be happy Benjy’s alive and mourn the Blackcoat losses at the same time,” said Greyson, sitting down next to me. “This is a good thing, and not just for the obvious reason. Daxton has no idea who you really are. If he did, he would have relished the chance to kill Benjy in front of you.”
Maybe one day I would be able to use that against him. Maybe one day, as soon as he let his guard down while still believing I was Lila, who had faked her own death instead of trying to cause his, I would be able to get close enough to do it. For now, I stared at my freshly painted nails, elation and devastation swirling around me, slowly becoming one and the same. “Do you think it was all worth it?”
“The rebellion?” said Greyson, and I nodded.
“We wound up doing the opposite of what we wanted. We gave Daxton unlimited power instead of returning it to the people. And now we can’t even get close enough to him to make sure that power is in the right hands instead.”
“Fighting for what you believe in is always worth it,” he said quietly. “It only takes one voice to give others the chance to see possibilities, and that’s what Lila did. That’s what you did, too. The Blackcoats fought for basic human rights. Nothing is more worth it than that. Sometimes—” He set his hand over mine. “Sometimes the answer is no, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask the question.”
“Even when it costs countless people their lives?”
“Especially then.” He took a deep breath and released it. “The people still love Lila, and as long as Lila is alive, they will still have hope. It might be a long time, but this isn’t over. Even if we have to wait for Daxton to die of old age, we will see revolution in our lifetime.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me. I still didn’t know which way was up, or how I should feel in the midst of all that had happened, but I did know he was there for me the same way I would always be there for him. And that was worth more than words could say. “What are we supposed to do until then?” I said.
“The same thing we’ve always done.” He rested his head against mine. “Keep hoping.”
XI
Ashes
The next day, Daxton, Greyson, and I boarded a jet to D.C. Now that the war was over, Daxton no longer needed the protection of the Stronghold, but even so, he kept himself holed up in the back room of the jet, refusing to get anywhere near us. I didn’t blame him, not really. He must have known that the instant he let either one of us close to him without armed guards pointing their weapons directly at us, his life would be forfeit.
Together Greyson and I played a card game on the table I had shared with Knox only a few months before. We couldn’t talk about anything suspicious, not with the guards breathing down our necks, but we spoke quietly about the things we wanted to do when we returned to D.C. Greyson wanted to get back to inventing. I wanted to bury myself in work that was rewarding—charities, foundations for families of the soldiers on both sides, working toward bettering the education children from the less desirable neighborhoods received. Little things that were still within my power to do. Things that, over time, could make a real difference.
Daxton might have won the war, but he couldn’t beat the hope out of me completely.
At least that was what I thought, until we began our descent. As we neared the ground, I pulled up the window shade, expecting to see Washington, D.C., sprawled out beneath us. Instead, all I saw were the charred remains of what used to be civilization.
“What...?” said Greyson, leaning in closer to get a better look, but I sat back against my seat, gulping in lungfuls of air. Of course he would take us here. Of course he would make sure to rub our noses in everything he was capable of.
“It’s Elsewhere,” I managed shakily. “Or what’s left of it.”
The destruc
tion was endless. Miles and miles of nothing but the dead and blackened. The plane landed on what had once been the main street of Section X, and I couldn’t stand the thought of what the wheels were running over.
“Wear these,” said a guard, and he handed us masks to place over our noses and mouths. I pulled mine on, willing myself to hold it together.
There was nothing left. Everything was burned beyond recognition. And it had all been too fast for anyone to escape, but no one could have possibly survived long enough to suffer.
As Daxton exited the back room, the guard led Greyson and me off the plane and onto the ashy ground. Something crunched beneath my boot, and I tried not to think about what it might have been.
“Ah, Section X,” said Daxton as he stepped down, two armed guards at his side. “What a delight it is to return to such a familiar place.”
I knew exactly where I was: we stood in the spot where the factory used to be. All that marked it now was a twisted lump of melted metal. And it was, in fact, the very section Victor Mercer had run with his brother, Jonathan. He had lived there much longer than I had, and if I could picture what the street used to be, he undoubtedly could, too.
“Shall we?” said Daxton, and it wasn’t a request. He strolled toward the hill nearby, where Mercer Manor had once stood. There was nothing left but charred stone now.
Greyson and I followed him up what had once been the sloping pathway. The gate had melted away, and part of me hoped it would be impossible to tell where, exactly, the manor had once stood. I didn’t think I could take seeing the very spot where Knox had died.
Could have died, I said firmly to myself. There was still hope. There was always hope, and I wasn’t sure which was worse—the pain of loss, or the pain of never knowing. Still, I clung to the possibility that someway, somehow, Knox had defied the impossible and escaped Elsewhere in time. Rivers had known about the tunnels, after all—maybe they had used them.
But that only brought up the horrible image of thousands of charred bodies deep below our feet, where no one would ever find them. I choked back a wave of nausea and dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to push that image aside. There had to be a way.
As we grew closer, Daxton made a delighted sound and hurried forward, stopping in a specific spot. “Look at this. Of course this would survive—how could it not?”
With my insides in knots, I walked toward him until the guard put up his hand, indicating I was close enough. I peered around. Daxton stood directly over an ornate H carved into the marble floor.
The foyer of Mercer Manor. Which meant—
I looked to my right, where Knox’s office had once stood. Nothing remained but more ash and char, and I silently turned and marched back down the hill. I expected Daxton to call me back, to insist I stay and witness these horrors, but I wouldn’t have gone. He could do whatever he wanted to me. I didn’t care anymore.
Footsteps hurried after me, crunching against the ground, but to my relief, it wasn’t Daxton or a guard. Instead, Greyson caught up with me and took my arm. “Are you okay?”
“How can you possibly—” I sucked in a breath and held it until we crossed the melted gate, where I burst. “I can’t do this. I can’t play this stupid game just to keep him happy. He’s a monster. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s reveling in it. Do you have any idea how many people died in this section alone?”
Greyson shook his head, his grip on me tightening. “You need to keep it together,” he whispered. “Just for a few more hours. Please.”
“I need to get out of here.” I crossed over the spot where Jonathan Mercer had executed Scotia, who had been the rebel leader inside the prison camp before dying right before the Battle of Elsewhere. Everything was a memory. Everything was a reminder of my failure. And I couldn’t do this anymore.
Daxton must have gotten what he wanted out of me, because the guards didn’t stop us as we boarded the plane. I spent the next twenty minutes cleaning ash off our shoes, and by the time Daxton finally returned, looking entirely too smug and satisfied, something inside of me had broken.
Maybe Lila had been the lucky one after all. She would never have to wade through the ashes of the people she’d cared about. She wouldn’t have to put up with Daxton’s sadistic games. She wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder with every step she took, wondering when the ax was going to drop. No wonder she’d been so willing to take the risk of stepping onto that helicopter and putting her fate in Daxton’s hands. For her, death was freedom. And a pardon from the life she would have had to live if she’d survived.
“Now that Elsewhere is gone, what will you do with citizens who commit crimes?” I said as Daxton passed us. I’d meant it as a challenge—as a way to point out one of the many flaws in Daxton’s path toward a stranglehold on the country. Instead he paused halfway back to his private quarters at the tail section of the plane, and he regarded me as if I’d just told an amusing joke.
“They’ll get what they deserve, of course.”
A lump formed in my throat. “You’ll execute them. Even the people who do nothing more than look at a Shield the wrong way.”
He shrugged. “Laws must be enforced. Perhaps the Blackcoats should have thought through the consequences of their actions before overtaking Elsewhere.”
My entire body went cold, and before I could stop myself, I snarled, “Burn in hell.”
He flashed me a wink before turning on his heel. “No need. Your friends are doing a marvelous job of that for me.”
Greyson grabbed me by the shoulders before I could leap out of my seat and claw Daxton’s eyes out. Only once he was tucked safely away in the back of the plane did Greyson finally let me go. He sat beside me and took my hand, clasping it tightly between his. “You know that’s what he wants from you.”
“I don’t care.” Tears stung my eyes, and my breaths came in wet, noisy gasps. It felt as if a boulder was pressed against my chest, and even Greyson, with his steady gaze and warm touch, did nothing to help calm me down. “All those people—he doesn’t care. Their lives are nothing to him as long as he’s still in power.”
“Their lives will never be anything to him,” said Greyson gently. “It doesn’t mean they weren’t worth anything at all.”
“As long as he’s running the country, that’s exactly what it means.” I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “When we get back to D.C., we have to find a way to get him alone.”
“We will,” he said softly, and though he was holding himself together far better than I was, there was a break in his voice that said more than words ever could. It would have been simple for him to go over to Daxton’s side—to be his ally, his pet, his heir. He would have been safer. Happier, probably. And he would have had far more freedom than we did now.
Instead, he remained resolute in our mutual goals: to find a way to overthrow that monster, and to finish the war the Blackcoats had started. He was on my side—Lila’s side, even though Lila wasn’t here anymore. We were in this together.
I didn’t remember much about the rest of the flight to D.C. Greyson remained beside me on the sofa, but neither of us said anything. Hours felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours, and when we finally landed, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and never get up again.
As our chauffeured car drove through the streets of D.C., part of me realized I was expecting to return to Somerset, where I had spent my months as Lila. But it was gone now, too, and instead I looked at Greyson. “Where are we going?”
He looked up from the scribbles he was making on a notepad. “What? Oh. Daxton said something about—reclaiming Minister Creed’s manor. That it belonged to the state now, and since we didn’t have anywhere else to stay...” Greyson frowned.
I rested my head against the cool window, watching the buildings and pedestrians slide by. Creed Manor. Of course. B
ecause he hadn’t tortured me enough already.
Daxton’s car was already parked and empty when we pulled into the wide circular drive. Knox’s home was a sprawling brick mansion, and though the estate was as wet and gray as the rest of D.C., it had a warm, inviting feel to it that I resented. I didn’t know what I’d expected from the place Knox had grown up, and where he had slowly been forged into a rebel, but this wasn’t it.
The inside was cozy. Nothing like the cold, elegant starkness of both Somerset Manor and Mercer Manor, which had technically belonged to the Hart family anyway. The floors were made of wood, bright curtains opened up to wide windows, and artwork hung on the walls not to intimidate, but to complement. It was a beautiful home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking down the hallways with a ghost.
Greyson followed me with his arms crossed, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. “I’ve been here a few times. I know where the guest rooms are.”
I wasn’t interested in the guest rooms. Not yet anyway. “Can you show me his room?” I said, and Greyson nodded. Together we trudged up the winding staircase and into the bright and airy upper floors, where he led me down a maze of hallways until we stopped at a doorway toward the end of the wing.
“I’ll be across the hall,” he said, nodding to another door. “If you don’t want to sleep in Knox’s room, you can sleep in here, too. There are two beds.”
I would have slept on the floor if it meant waking up and having instant reassurance that Greyson was all right. “Okay. I’ll be in soon,” I said.
He flashed me a sad smile and slipped inside, leaving me alone to face Knox’s room and the questions and memories that would undoubtedly come with it. I took a deep breath and slowly turned the handle.
The musky scent of Knox hit me hard, and I stood in the doorway, struggling for air and gripping the handle so tightly I could feel the lock leave an imprint on my skin.
His bedroom—his suite, really—was decorated much like the one in Somerset; in rich golds and blues, with a leather sofa, desk, and an entire wall full of books that looked read and cherished, not just put on display. Even though I knew it was an invasion of privacy, I wandered into his bedroom as soon as I could make myself move. I sat down on his king-size bed and picked up one of the pillows, hugging it to my chest.