by Aimee Carter
Frantically I searched the ceiling. In the corner I spotted an air vent the size of the one in my suite, and I didn’t waste any time. Hopping over the impostor’s body, I scrambled onto the massive desk, knocking over a stack of books in the process. With any luck, they’d blame the mess on him.
Using one of the sturdy bookcases, I climbed to the ceiling and knocked the cover out of place. I had just enough room to squeeze through it, and with so much adrenaline pumping through my veins, I had no trouble at all lifting myself up into the ceiling. After covering the vent once more, I collapsed in the tunnel, breathing heavily. I was safe.
But not for long.
* * *
I slipped back into my suite as I silently berated myself for ever trusting Celia. Her plan hadn’t been foolproof; a million things could’ve gone wrong, and at least two did. The guards arrived faster than she’d anticipated, and I hadn’t had the courage to kill him—whoever he really was. I’d backed out, and for that, my life might be forfeit.
Less than a minute after I’d thrown what was left of the syringe into the toilet and sank onto the sofa, I heard shouts coming from the hallway. A pair of guards burst into the room, but unlike my first night in Somerset, they didn’t try to drag me off to the safe room.
“What’s going on?” I said, but neither of them answered. Moments later Knox strode in, his mouth set in a thin line.
“Knox?” I said. He offered me his hands. I took them, and I couldn’t hide how badly mine trembled.
“It’s your mother,” he said. “The doctors think she’s been poisoned. She’s been taken to the infirmary.”
That was all? Nothing about Daxton? “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. But there’s something else.”
I held my breath. If he was dead, I would be directly responsible for it. But if he wasn’t...
“It’s the prime minister.” Something in his eyes flashed. “He’s also been poisoned.”
I opened and shut my mouth. Did Knox know that Daxton had been Masked, too? Did Celia know? Did Greyson?
“Is he—is he still...?” I said shakily.
Knox nodded, and I clutched his hands to keep from swaying. The guards stepped closer, but Knox shook his head, and they moved back. They were here to protect me now, but the moment Daxton woke up and revealed I was the one who’d tried to kill him, they would come for me and Benjy.
I must have looked as hysterical as I felt, because Knox guided me back onto the sofa and knelt next to me. “Lila,” he said, and even though I was dizzy with fear, I made myself look at him. “It’s all right. Your mother’s going to be okay. And Daxton...” He paused, and his expression hardened. “I promise you that everything will work out.”
He knew something had gone wrong. He had to, because Daxton wasn’t dead. And no matter how stupid I’d been letting Celia talk me into this mess to begin with, I wasn’t about to tell Knox what had happened. If he knew Daxton was Masked and discovered I’d found out—
“Think you can make it to the infirmary?” said Knox, and I nodded. Lila would be expected to visit her mother even though I wanted to stay as far away from Daxton as possible.
He and Celia had been brought to an underground level on the other side of the mansion. The infirmary took up the entire floor of the wing, and even though the walls were painted the same color as the summer sky, the corridors were so narrow that I couldn’t shake the feeling of being caged.
The infirmary had no waiting room packed with the sick and dying, like the public hospital I’d visited after breaking my arm when I was ten. Instead a doctor dressed in a white uniform led me and Knox into Celia’s room, where she was hooked up to the machine that beeped in time with her pulse.
I stepped forward, and tears stung my eyes. They weren’t as fake as I wanted to convince myself they were. As nice as it was to know that nothing had gone wrong with Celia’s part of the plan, I needed to know what had happened with Daxton.
Thankfully Knox seemed to understand, and as I took Celia’s hand, he spoke to the doctor. “How is the prime minister?”
“Alive,” she said, flipping through papers she held in the crook of her arm. “We don’t know much more than that. He hasn’t woken up yet, but his vitals are much weaker than Celia’s.”
“Do you know how this happened?” said Knox, and from across the room I saw him set his hand on her arm.
She scowled and shifted away. “We’re not sure. Both of them have needle marks on their skin, but in different places, and we haven’t found any syringes.”
“Someone did this?” said Knox, unfazed by her rejection.
When she nodded, I squeezed Celia’s hand, wishing she were conscious so she could help figure this out. She was the one who’d gotten me into this mess, but I was the idiot who hadn’t thought it through before going along with it.
“Thank you,” said Knox, and the doctor left the room. He closed the door behind her, and I looked down at Celia, not letting go of her yet. “Did anyone see you leave?” he said quietly.
“No. I went through the air vents.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You went through the what?”
I pointed at the ceiling. “See that one up there? It’s a little smaller than the one in Daxton’s office, but it’s the same idea.”
While he squinted up at the grate, I studied Celia. Her chest rose steadily, her heartbeat was strong, and she looked peaceful as she slept. Not like the woman who’d lost her daughter and was willing to do whatever it took to get revenge. She couldn’t have known her brother was Masked, I decided. If she had, there would be no need to try to kill him. All she would have to do was tell the media that the prime minister was a fake. But if I spilled his secret, there was no telling what would happen to me and Benjy. For now, I had to keep my mouth shut and hope it didn’t matter anymore.
“How the hell do you fit through that?” said Knox, still staring at the vent. I shrugged.
“It’s not exactly hard.”
“Speak for yourself.” He shook his head incredulously. “But if no one saw you, good. What about going in?”
“Celia distracted them like she said she would.” He nodded, and I wished he had been the one to sneak into Daxton’s office instead of me. He wouldn’t have lost his nerve. “What happens now?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “We hope Daxton doesn’t pull through, and in the meantime we try to stay alive.”
“And if someone finds out what really happened?”
He sighed. “Then the bloodbath begins.”
XIII
Fine
Line
I stayed with Celia for the rest of the evening, waiting for her to wake up. Knox disappeared after an hour, and once the adrenaline faded, I leaned my head against the wall and allowed myself to drift off.
“Ahem.”
My eyes flew open. Augusta stood in the doorway, her face as smooth as ever despite the fact that both of her children—no, her only remaining child and the man pretending to be her son—were unconscious in the infirmary.
“Augusta,” I said. Her name stuck in my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Has she woken up?” said Augusta, looking pointedly at Celia.
I shook my head. “The doctor said she’ll be okay, though. She’s just sleeping it off. How—how’s Daxton?” She had to know he’d been Masked. Maybe she was the only one who did.
Augusta sniffed. “That is none of your business. You will have the nurses alert me the moment she wakes, do you understand?”
I nodded.
“And Kitty,” she said, taking a step toward me. “If I find out you had anything to do with this...”
The blood drained from my face. “I would never—I would nev
er hurt them,” I said, barely keeping the panic out of my voice. If she thought for a moment that I was really behind it, I wouldn’t have a chance to explain. “And I was in my room the whole time. Knox left right before the guards arrived. He’ll tell you.”
“Yes,” she said coolly. “I am sure he will.”
She turned on her heel and started to glide out of the room. She wasn’t convinced, and there was nothing I could do to change her mind. However, like the day we’d met in the Stronghold, my mouth opened and words came out before I could stop them.
“Why do you hate me?”
Augusta stopped, and she slowly turned to face me once more.
“You didn’t need to have me Masked,” I said. “You’re the one who decided to do it—you’re the one who decided to get rid of Lila in the first place, so it isn’t that. I don’t understand—”
“I do not hate you,” said Augusta crisply. “You are simply not one of us, nor will you ever be, and I do not appreciate your insubordination. I loved my granddaughter, but she made her decisions knowing full well what the consequences would be.”
“So you just killed her for it?” I said. “What if it were Greyson?”
“Do not talk about my grandson,” she snapped, and I flinched in spite of myself. After a tense moment passed, she took a breath and said in a steadier voice, “Being a Hart means more than having the name. It means upholding the foundation that has seen this country through its darkest hour. Without it—without us—the country would crumble, and all of the strides we have taken would be for nothing. Lila was dangerous. She had the ear of the nation, and she was telling them half-truths and lies that suited her agenda rather than their best interests. She thought she was untouchable.”
“So you proved her wrong?” I said, my voice shaking.
“I did what I had to do to ensure the country’s stability. Every citizen in this nation depends on my family, and we cannot go back to the way things were.”
She paused, and her expression grew distant, as if she were seeing something that wasn’t really there.
“You and I are not so different,” said Augusta at last. “I was three years old when the economy collapsed. Both of my parents were killed in the resulting riots. My mother was shot trying to get us to safety, and she died in front of me.”
I stilled. I’d never heard about Augusta’s life before she married into the Hart family. As far as I knew, no one had.
“I grew up in an orphanage as well, though it was nothing like the ones we have now.” Her eyes reddened, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. I’d never seen her so undone before. “I had to fight for every morsel of food. Half of us slept on the floor because there were not enough beds. My education was limited, and what passed for school was an insult, so I stole books to teach myself instead. I did not have anything handed to me, but I made something of myself anyway. And after I met my late husband, I finally realized that everything I had gone through happened for a reason. It gave me the strength to survive, and it turned me into the person I needed to be in order to live the life I deserved.”
She stared straight at me, and I couldn’t look away. “So you see, Kitty, I understand you better than you think I do. I also remember what the country was like before the Harts worked miracles to stabilize it. I am the only one who does anymore, and for the sake of the country—for the sake of the people—we cannot go back to the way it was.
“I love each and every member of my family with all that I am,” she added. “I never wanted to hurt Lila. I agonized over the decision, but in the end, we must expect from ourselves what we expect from our people. We must set the example. She knew the consequences, and though I begged her not to, she chose to go through with it anyway. She is the one who pulled the trigger on her life, not me. I loved her, but I have a duty to my country. We all do. And I will not allow us to return to that dark time. My grandson will not go through what I did. No one ever will again.”
As I watched Augusta, weariness and heartache passed over her face, and for a fraction of a second, she looked her age. I would never like her, but in that moment, I thought I understood her. Celia and Greyson were all she had left. If Augusta really did feel she had to sacrifice her granddaughter to keep the country stable—
What sort of person could do that?
Someone who loved control more than her own family. As quickly as it had come, my sympathy for Augusta vanished. Still, as much as I wanted to hate her for doing this to Lila—for doing this to me—she loved Greyson. So much so that she was willing to destroy anything that threatened to taint the world she’d created for him. So much so that she’d turned a stranger into the most powerful man in the country so Greyson wouldn’t be an orphan, too.
Just like everything I did was for Benjy, everything she did was for Greyson, and now I finally understood.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “And I’m sorry Lila put you in that impossible position. You should never have had to go through that.” I faltered, and a moment passed before I could force the rest out. “Thank you—thank you for telling me. I know you’ll never like me, but I hope—eventually you’ll trust me. I want what’s best for the country, too.”
The seconds ticked by. I half expected her to hurl more insults and justifications at me, but to my surprise, her expression softened. “Very well. I accept your apology. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I said nothing as she left, and once the door closed behind her, my entire body felt like it was folding in on itself. I curled up in the chair, staring at Celia and willing her to wake up. She would know what to do about this whole mess. Knox was gone, and who knew how long it would be before he came back? I didn’t know how to handle any of this alone with Augusta breathing down my neck, whether or not there was uneasy peace between us for the time being. Chances were, it wouldn’t last the night.
Twenty minutes later, I heard a timid knock, and I straightened. “Come in.”
Benjy entered, pale and disheveled. I started to rise, but he stopped cold, staring at the bed. “Is that—”
“Celia. She’ll live.” I settled back in my chair. I ached to feel his arms around me, but it was too risky. “Does Knox know you’re down here?”
He sat across from me, careful to keep his distance. “He’s the one who told me where you were, but then the guards came and asked me all these questions about the prime minister.”
“Like what?” I said, lowering my voice.
“They asked me where I was this evening, what I was doing, what Knox was doing—” He rubbed his face and focused on Celia. “You’re sure she’s going to be okay?”
I nodded, and even though a doctor or nurse could walk in at any time, I took his hand. “I think so. Someone tried to kill them,” I said, and shame washed over me. I wasn’t used to lying to Benjy, but I couldn’t tell him, not if they suspected him. The more he knew, the more danger he would be in. Besides, it wasn’t really a lie, was it? Just an omission.
I bit my lip. That was exactly how a Hart would justify it. They had taken away my face and name, but I’d thought there was no way they could take away who I really was. Then I’d kissed Knox, and now this. Seemed they were winning after all.
“Are you okay?” he said, squeezing my hand.
“I’m fine. Whatever it is that got to them—” I stopped and watched the rise and fall of Celia’s chest. If Daxton pulled through... “Benjy, you can’t be around me, okay? I love you, but if someone sees us together like this, we’ll both pay the price.”
He scowled. “Someone needs to watch your back. I’m not going to sit here and let them hurt you.”
“They’re not hurting me. They wouldn’t, not after all the effort they put into making me look like Lila. But Augusta is watching me like a hawk, and if she sees us together, she’ll make sure we both regret
it. Please, Benjy,” I begged. “For me.”
At last he nodded. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t have to be. He only had to agree. “All right. Just—don’t die, okay? I couldn’t take losing you again.”
“I won’t. You’re not allowed to die, either.” Remembering what Celia had said the morning I’d gone hunting with Daxton, I added, “Keep your head down and do what they tell you, and everything will be okay.”
Benjy stood and kissed me on the cheek. “You, too. I’m here if you need me.”
He tucked a folded piece of paper into my hand and left. I waited until he shut the door before I opened his note, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled.
He’d drawn two stick figures standing on a beach, with waves and a sand castle nearby. Their little fingers were interlocked, and between them was a sideways figure eight—the symbol for eternity.
“Love you, too,” I whispered. I refolded the note and tucked it safely in my pocket. As long as we were both alive, I had to believe that everything would be okay.
* * *
Celia awoke shortly after midnight, just long enough for me to tell her Daxton was still alive. She was furious, but as each day passed and he remained in a coma, I breathed a little easier as it seemed less and less likely that he would regain consciousness.
Greyson spent hours every day at the impostor’s bedside, and when Celia demanded I leave her alone, I stayed with him. Augusta was so busy running the country in Daxton’s place that I was all but forgotten in the aftermath. That was exactly how I wanted it.
“You’re lucky,” said Greyson two days into his bedside vigil. We barely spoke, and even when we did, I was usually the one doing the talking, chatting about anything other than the V-shaped ridges I knew lay on the back of that man’s neck. Getting Greyson to speak to me was about as effective as moving the walls with my bare hands, though, so when he did, I looked at him, surprised.