by Tania Hutley
“Now they have forty-seven more Knight Skins. We’ve already given them a ready-made army.”
“Not yet. They’re missing an important piece of the puzzle.” He lifts one hand to tap the back of his neck.
“Our chips. They don’t have any to copy?” I lift my own hand to touch my neck. “The one in your human body’s different to the ones in the Skins?”
He nods. “It’s complicated to explain, but in a sense, one is the controller.”
“They know we have chips. You and Cale, anyway, because you were in the Skin Hunter contest. And they probably think I have one too. What’s to stop them cutting us open and extracting our chips?”
Sentin turns toward the door. “They won’t do that until we’ve outlived our usefulness as hostages.”
“What?” I go after him, putting my hand on his arm to stop him. “We’re hostages?”
“Without the knights to protect us, we’re at their mercy.”
“Then we need to get Cale and go back to Triton.” I swallow, thinking of Tori. I have no idea how to find her, but how can I leave without trying?
He shakes his head. Although he sounds calm, his gray eyes are as hard as iron. “Not without negotiating a peace treaty. It’s vital we do that now. If we leave, communication will cease and another war is inevitable.”
“How are we going to negotiate a peace treaty when they’re holding all the cards?”
Sentin sweeps his gaze around the knights and his jaw tightens. “We’ll find a way.”
Thirteen
The next morning, I’m awake early and seated at the table in the imperator’s fancy dining room before Cale or Sentin appears. Breakfast is a selection of pancakes and fruit laid out for us to help ourselves. It smells good and probably tastes just as delicious as dinner did, but I feel as enthusiastic about eating it as if it were the bland stew spat out by the machines in the shelter.
It doesn’t help that there’s a waiter standing by the door who’s supposedly there to make sure we have everything we need, but who’s standing in a military pose and looks suspiciously like a guard.
We’re hostages. If the imperator decides to carve one or more of us up for our chips, the only thing going for us is that I’m a lot stronger than they’ll expect me to be. But the wall is quite a distance from here. Even if we made it out of the palace, I doubt we’d get all the way to Triton before they stopped us.
Cale eventually joins me at the table. “The knights must have changed the access settings for their swarm network,” he says as he piles his plate up with food. “I can’t connect.”
He obviously has no idea about what happened last night. I force myself to wait until he’s had time to enjoy some breakfast before murmuring the entire story in his ear. When I’ve finished, his face is pale, and he pushes his plate away. Like me, he’s lost his appetite.
“We should have made a break for it,” he says quietly, echoing my thoughts.
When Sentin comes in, he nods a greeting, his expression serious. He serves himself a plate of food, and sits opposite me.
“What now?” asks Cale in a low voice. “Do you have a way to get us out of this mess?”
I wait anxiously for him to say that he does. After having all night to think about it, surely he’s figured out some clever way to turn the tables.
But Sentin hesitates, his brows drawing together. “Do you trust me?” he asks after a moment.
Cale and I exchange a confused look. Then I nod. “I trust you,” I murmur, surprised to realize that it’s true.
Cale nods too, though he doesn’t look so sure.
“I need you both to make a promise,” says Sentin. “It’s vital the peace treaty is negotiated. We need to continue pushing for the deal I’ve proposed, no matter what happens.”
“What do you think might happen?” My sense of dread is growing.
He picks up his knife and fork, glancing at the waiter who’s still standing to attention by the door. “Promise you’ll sign a peace treaty, no matter what. This is important.”
“Why do we need to promise?” Cale narrows his eyes. “What are you planning?”
Sentin cuts a neat slice in the pancakes, but doesn’t make any move to lift the food to his mouth. He’s waiting for an answer.
“Fine,” I say impatiently. “We promise. Just tell us your plan.”
Cale leans forward, his gaze fixed on Sentin. “This isn’t the time for secrets.”
Sentin glances at the waiter again and his voice drops even lower. “It’s neither the time nor place to speak openly.”
I can’t help but glance at the portraits hanging on the wall behind him. The imperator is staring down at us. No wonder I feel like we’re being watched.
A muscle ticks in Cale’s jaw. “Just tell us. I hate sitting around like this, when I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen.”
Sentin lifts his fork. “I doubt we’ll be sitting around for long.”
The words are barely out of his mouth when the door flies open and the imperator sweeps in. He’s wearing a long red robe and an impressive scowl. Behind him are the legates we met last night, all three of them frowning. The imperator’s son isn’t far behind them. Otho is the most sympathetic of the Deiterrans we’ve met so far, but even he looks stern this morning.
The imperator fixes Sentin and me with a glare. “Where did you go last night?” he demands.
“To a bar. We had a pleasant drink and enjoyed some music.” Sentin puts a forkful of food in his mouth and chews.
“You fled the bar through its back door.”
Sentin swallows. “President Morelle wanted to see a little more of Deiterra.” His eyebrows go up, as though he’s surprised. “We had no idea you were tracking our movements.”
“For well over an hour, you were unaccounted for. Where were you?”
“Walking. It was a pleasant evening and the streets were nice and quiet.”
The imperator lets out an exasperated breath. “Very well, we’ll try this a different way.” He turns to the two legionnaires who followed them all in, and are standing ramrod-straight next to the door. “Bring in the other one.”
One of the legionnaires nods and slips out. The other stands even straighter.
Sentin moves his gaze to me and I frown back a silent question. The other one? As usual, his expression is unreadable, and Cale looks as confused as I am.
A few moments later, the legionnaire comes back, pulling someone along with him. She looks spitting mad, and snatches her arm out of the legionnaire’s grip as soon as she’s inside the door.
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 a
n 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 made 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 frow
n, 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.
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.