“The nurse said you are recovering well, so we had you moved back to the State house.” She lightly stroked Freya’s hair. “Do you think you are up to taking a shower?”
“Do I smell that bad?” Freya replied.
“No.” Chastity laughed. “But you look terrible.”
“Since when do I have to doll myself up for you, Chastity?”
“You don’t, but the Council is waiting to speak to you.”
Chastity helped guide her to a sitting position, and then steadied her not-so-stable body as she walked to the shower. There was a dressing on her head that she helped her to remove, under which Freya saw a cut with three stitches sitting on top of a large bump. Even touching the bandages shot pain down her cheek and up in her scalp.
She had to hand it to Lewis: he made it look convincing. She struggled to wash her hair in the shower; touching the right side of her head hurt. It was not an efficient job, but it was all she was capable of at that moment.
The dizziness was passing, and her legs felt a little more stable. She couldn’t pull her hair up. It almost felt as though her hair itself was hurting as she combed out the tangles. Chastity waited for her at the door, fresh pressed uniform in hand. Even though her legs were much steadier now, Chastity led her with a firm grip to what used to be Victor’s office.
Freya closed her eyes right before she walked in, expecting to see a horrible scene, or at least have some flashback or emotional reaction. When she opened her eyes, there was nothing. The office had been cleaned; there was no trace of any foul play—it was just an office, and it looked like it always had. She sat down, and Chastity turned on the monitor.
“Good evening, Freya,” said a female voice from the monitor. Freya speculated it was the same woman who had dropped in on her in the clinic. “We hope you are recovering well. Your presence has been missed greatly.”
“Thank you. I am still in pain, but the room has stopped spinning.”
“We have an urgent matter we need to discuss with you, Freya,” said a male voice.
Freya gulped. Had they really bought Lewis’s story?
“First of all, other than for the purposes of this meeting, you will be detained in your living quarters.”
Her heart nearly stopped beating. They must know!
“Anyone who has inquired into your whereabouts has been informed that you had come down with a rather nasty illness, and you were temporarily moved into a clinic. You will remain in your living quarters until your head has healed. We can’t have people in the State house see that you were attacked. The official story they are now being told is that your health is improving, but you are on bed rest, as directed from your doctor. All members of the State house who have inquired into Victor’s whereabouts have been told he was called out on a special project.”
“No one knows he is dead?” she blurted, unable to control her surprise. Her entire body loosened up, a small amount, but it was still a very noticeable sensation. If they were hiding her injury, then she was not being arrested. So they really did buy Lewis’s story.
“No, just yourself and Chastity. We find letting people know that the head of State has been assassinated will only give hope and fuel to the rebellion. He will be away on a special project until we are prepared to announce that he has died of natural causes.”
“How long do we wait?” she asked.
“Until that rather nasty gash on your head has healed. We wouldn’t want to start any speculations. You will also need to remain out of sight until that time.”
“I don’t understand. What does my injury have to do with anything?”
“We can’t very well put you on camera looking like that as our new head of State.”
“What?”
“Congratulations are in order. You are the new head of State, Freya,” another voice said. “Victor cast his vote moments before the attack, and the Council was unanimous. Once you have healed, we will announce Victor’s death and show you to the world.”
Freya felt as though it was her turn to speak, but something impeded her speech. A ball of dry air had gotten stuck in her throat. It was only a moment later that the tears started to pour freely down her face, and then her body was racked with sobs.
“It is a bitter joy. You were very close to Victor, and you need your time to mourn. Please take your leave; let your body heal and grieve over our great loss. We need you to show the people how strong you are, what a great leader you will become.”
Freya managed to nod to the monitor, and thank them, and Chastity was right by her side to assist her to walk back to her apartment. Chastity brought her meals, kept placing cold packs on her head, and put ointment and fresh bandages on her cut. Freya continued to request medication; it was easier to sleep through this time with its intoxicating effects. If she was awake, there was nothing she could do but think about what had happened.
She didn’t know what was worse: that she had taken a life, or that Lewis had given his. Looking back, she knew that he was planning this all along. Maybe he was even planning to kill Victor himself. He kept saying she needed to become the head of State; maybe he had his own plans.
For a brief moment, she questioned whether his cover story was in fact reality. Had he seduced me simply to get close enough to kill Victor? She chose to keep that thought brief. The last thing she needed was for history to repeat itself, to sit and wonder whether the man she had trusted had lied to her—she had done enough of that in her past.
If he had truly loved her, if he had done all of this for her benefit, then he deserved her respect and gratitude. It was not just for her own sanity that she pushed this thought out; it was because he deserved better than that, especially from her. He was a hero, not a villain, and as the only person who knew what he had done for her, what he had done for the world, she would honor him silently.
The bump shrunk a little every day; the stitches dissolved into her skin, and the dark bruising was becoming the real challenge. It was getting easier for her to wash her hair; the pain was almost gone. Chastity came in one morning and rubbed a thick liquid on her face, focusing heavily around her injury, and then led her to the mirror.
“Look, if you wear your hair down, we can hide your bruising well enough when you put this over top.” Freya looked at the liquid in her hand, and saw the paste was a similar color to her own skin. “I think you are ready.”
“I don’t know if I will ever be ready,” Freya replied.
“But you are. You just need to believe in yourself the way everyone else does.”
Freya thought of Ursa, and then Lewis. Both gave their lives, so she could be there, at this exact spot, at this exact time. There were now two souls who would not rest until she accomplished her intended task—she owed it to them to succeed.
Neither Lita nor Devina had much confidence in her, and perhaps she had never given them reason to have any. Regardless of whether she was worthy, it was real, a great responsibility was placed on her shoulders. Ready or not, it was time for her to lead the nation.
Chapter 12
Freya sat down at the desk. Everything about it felt wrong. How could I really sit in Victor’s seat? How could I take his place? Chastity handed her the tablet that was once his, the one in which Freya betrayed him on, and she looked down. There were speaking notes she was to read over and familiarize herself with. All she had to do was read it, but they preferred her not to look as though she was reading it. She read it over many times, even doing a few practice runs of saying it out loud. When she was ready, Chastity turned on the monitor, and indicated she would cue her when ready.
The monitor played the usual music to indicate a broadcast was coming from the head of State, showing the emblem representing their nation. Freya then saw her own face on the monitor, and Chastity motioned to her. The glimpse at herself only lasted but a moment, and was quickly replaced by the words of her speech dancing across the screen.
“Good evening. I regret to inform you, last night our b
eloved head of State passed away peacefully in his sleep. He was a truly brave and compassionate leader, and he will be greatly missed. Everyone, please join together in a moment of silence in remembrance of this great man.”
The prompter started a countdown, and she bowed her head. Chastity waved at her when the countdown was complete.
“I have been elected to take his place, a task I do not take lightly, as he set the standard so incredibly high. In spite of this tragedy, I am ready to stand up in his absence and lead our people forward. He once shared his wish with me to be our leader when the new world opened up. I am deeply sorrowful that he was not able to live out that dream.”
Freya’s eyes genuinely began to mist up. It was not out of mourning for Victor as she appeared; she felt like a fraud and it was already eating at her soul. Not only had she killed him in order to elevate herself, she had despised him from the very depth of her soul for twenty years. Yet there she sat, pretending to be sad, all in the name of politics.
“I hope to be a leader as noble as he was,” she continued to read through her misted eyes. “I have pledged myself to bringing humanity forward into our new destiny. I was myself very close to him, and feel his loss deeply. He was like a father to me, as he was a father to us all. For this reason, our first broadcast will be short, and I invite all nonessential personnel who are laboring to take the rest of the evening as free time, so you might deal with your grief.”
The monitor cut back to the emblem and the music played, and she burst into tears. Chastity was instantly by her side, stroking her hair and reassuring her that she performed well.
Freya let her comfort her for a while, even though there was no comfort to be found. It was really just an exercise to make Chastity feel better, and because she had been so good to her over the years, she would let her think it was working.
Chastity helped her back to the apartment. Freya looked around and wondered where she was going to stay permanently.
“How long will I stay here?”
“As long as you like,” Chastity answered.
“Which apartment is meant for the head of State?” she asked more specifically.
“Which ever one you like. You can stay in one, or switch irregularly if it would make you feel safer for people to not be able to guess where you live.” Chastity answered in her precise yet vague way of dealing with things.
“So I can just stay in one or move around?”
“Yes. Victor preferred to stay in just one. If you feel so inclined to move around, you may take any apartment you fancy, even if it is mine.”
“What does yours have that the others don’t?”
“Me living there,” Chastity replied. “I am sorry if you expected your living quarters to be more lavish. They are all similar in size and furnishings. The Council wants you in your office, not in your apartment.”
Chastity turned on her heel and left Freya there. Chastity never said more than was necessary, nor did she try to sugar-coat anything, which was precisely what Freya had always liked about her.
She climbed into bed and laid there with her eyes wide open. The stress of being put in front of the monitor to address the people was now hitting her.
When Lewis started spending the night with her, she had stopped taking the sleeping pills. It just hadn’t crossed her mind at the time. He was, in a way, her drug, and now she was suffering withdrawals.
She went into the bathroom, searching for the pills. If there had been any left over, surely they would have been moved to this apartment. She checked in the drawers of the desk, the kitchen cupboard, and then finally in the bathroom. When she pulled the mirror open to reveal the bottle, relief spread through her entire body. The bottle was full; this was definitely not the same bottle she had in her former apartment. Was it commonplace for the head of State to need sleeping pills? Or was this Chastity mothering me as always?
The medication did its usual function. It numbed her mind, relaxed her body, and she slept. There was no protection from her dreams filled with the blood of the innocent, but if she could sleep, she could endure the daytime.
James and Chastity were waiting for her at the office when she arrived in the morning. It was their duty to train her in what her days were going to look like, what being the head of State was encompassed.
The Council was surprisingly silent. Most of her day was spent staring at the screen of her tablet or monitor. There was a constant stream of messages coming to her. She understood now why Victor had always been there.
It was a terribly lonely kind of work. She understood why Victor had told her the head of State couldn’t have a partner or family. When would she ever see them?
Her eyes traveled out to the grounds far too often. Temporary workers from the military had been sent in, except now they slept in an apartment in the State house. Lewis had obviously caused a state of panic; it had been too simple of an act. Not that it was the truth, but it was still too easy for someone to come up from the underground into the State house. All members of the military were being interrogated by their superiors and a team of psychologists.
She did her best at afternoon mealtime to converse with the members of the house, but it was difficult. How had Victor made it look so easy? How could he just shrug everything off and sit and joke lightly with everyone?
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he didn’t commit murder to gain his seat while framing his lover, but maybe it didn’t. He had had a charm about him, one that she would never possess. For all she knew, he did kill the last head of State; he didn’t seem to be terribly surprised when she came for him. Perhaps Devina could have even been right. Maybe there would have been no investigation into his death, not when the Council wished it to be so.
“Okay, Freya, we are going to go look at our vegetable garden,” Devina declared. Freya was jostled out of her thoughts. Everyone at the table had finished eating, but her plate was barely touched.
“Is the replacement gardener not satisfactory?” she asked.
“They’re great. You just look like you need to go outside.” She stood. “Come on, you deserve a break.”
As much as she had far too much work waiting for her back in the office, there wasn’t even a single thought of protest that crossed her mind. She simply stood and followed Devina out to the garden.
“You’re acting like a zombie,” Devina said once they reached the garden.
“This job isn’t as easy as Victor made it look,” Freya replied.
“I never got the chance to congratulate you properly. Job well done.” Devina actually sounded sincere for a moment. “Of course, everyone is thrilled you took your seat, but I think they were even more thrilled that you may have diverted the transport device from a secured to a public location.”
“So what now?” Freya asked.
“You were never one for pleasantries, were you?” Devina remarked.
“No, and we have just under one year until the spacecraft reaches the colony world. We won’t have many opportunities to talk like this again. I have to accept my new role. I won’t be able to come out to the garden to reminisce about the old days all the time.”
Devina looked her up and down, as if she were trying to make a plan on the spot.
“You’re the head of State. I am sure you could come up with your own plan.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You already know the plan, and we know you don’t like it. You are in charge—do what you will. Maybe you could even make a big enough difference that they won’t feel the need to act. If you can convince the rebellion that the two worlds can exist harmoniously, then they will do nothing; there is no plan. If you fail to make the changes necessary, then we will go through the transport device with or without you and destroy it.”
“So that’s that then?” Freya asked. “We are done? There will be no more contact?”
“You said it yourself—you can’t just come out here for a pleasant walk with me all the t
ime. Besides, you got this. You don’t need us.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m a mess. I can’t do any of this.”
“Said the girl who killed a man in cold blood and let her boy toy take the fall.” Devina winked at Freya.
It occurred to her that Devina didn’t say this to be cruel; she genuinely respected her for what she had done.
“How did you convince Lewis to confess? Or did you actually get him to kill Victor for you?”
“I didn’t get him to do anything—he did it himself. I did it, and when he found out, he knocked me out and took the blame.” She repressed a sob. “He wanted me to become the head of State.”
Corrupted: Book Three of the State Series Page 11