Aimee Carter - Queen

“We’re already two steps behind,” said Strand. “They’ve choked off several of our main supply lines. The few we have left are sporadic at best, and half the time it’s too risky to even attempt deliveries. We may have enough bullets to storm D.C., but without food and medical supplies, there won’t be enough of us left to do it.”

“The citizens of Elsewhere are days away from rioting,” said a fierce-looking woman with a scar running down the side of her face. I recognized her from the Blackcoat bunker in D.C. “If we don’t find a way to feed them, we’ll be dead before the battle even begins.”

She was right. There were thousands upon thousands of former prisoners in Elsewhere who had chosen to stay and fight for the Blackcoats. We had an army at our disposal, but it was an army that could turn on us at any moment if we didn’t give them what we’d promised: a better life than the Mercers and the Harts ever had. So far, we weren’t delivering.

“Is there another way to get supplies here?” I said. Several pairs of eyes turned toward me, and I crossed my arms. I had no military experience and no gift for strategizing, not like Benjy did. But I was excellent at asking stupid questions.

“Such as?” said Strand, barely masking his impatience. He liked me about as much as I liked him.

“Isn’t Elsewhere almost completely surrounded by lakes? Can’t we come in from a direction they won’t expect?” I said.

“That’s an idea,” said Benjy suddenly, and he met my eyes and flashed a smile. It was the same smile he had given me back in the group home every time I’d bothered to help him with my homework, and no amount of applause could warm me from the inside out the way that smile did. “We have a strong defense here, and we know that any strike they mount will come from the south, over land. But the lakes surrounding the rest of the state—we have enough ships under our control to bring in something. It won’t be enough to give anyone a life of luxury, but we’ll have the basics, at least.”

“They’ll be expecting it,” said Strand. “That’s why we haven’t tried it.”

“So we create a distraction. Set up another supply line—make ourselves look desperate. Divert their attention from the water.” Benjy glanced at Knox. “What do we have to lose?”

“Lives, that’s what,” said Strand. “Human lives.”

“People are going to start dying anyway if we don’t do something,” I said. “We’ll ask for volunteers. No one goes who isn’t willing. But we’re all prepared to die for this, or else we wouldn’t be here right now. And I, for one, don’t plan on dying of starvation.”

All eyes turned to Knox. He stared down at the carpet, his arms crossed as he worried his lower lip between his teeth. He was only in his twenties, but in the few months I’d known him, he seemed to have aged a decade.

“If we do nothing, nothing changes,” he said, his gaze not wavering from the ground. “We do what we have to do to feed our soldiers. Benjy, you’re in charge of setting up the new supply line and the diversion. Strand, you assist.” He called out several other names, assigning them to find volunteers for the mission, as well as to round up whatever supplies we had left. By the time he fell silent and the meeting ended, everyone had a job.

Except me.

Benjy turned toward me, his eyes alight with purpose. I hadn’t seen him look so determined since before we’d been sent to Elsewhere, and with as much as Knox and I fought, I was relieved he wasn’t taking his frustration with me out on Benjy. “Do you want to brainstorm with me and Strand?”

“If feeding everyone in Elsewhere depends on Strand and I working together, we’re all going to starve,” I said, only half joking. “I’ll be around when you get back.”

Benjy hesitated and glanced at Strand, who tapped his foot impatiently near the entrance to the kitchen. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Now go before he tries to shoot me or something.”

Benjy gave me a quick kiss and hurried to join Strand, leaving Knox and I alone in the living room. As much as I wanted to be useful, elbowing my way into Benjy’s assignment wouldn’t help anything. He would spend the entire brainstorming session trying to explain something to me or backing me up whenever Strand tried to tear me down, and now that we both had a chance at a future beyond whatever the Harts dictated to us, I refused to hold Benjy back. I’d done enough of that already.

“So.” I turned to Knox. “What do you want me to do?”

Knox moved to one of the abandoned couches and sat down heavily, settling his head in his hands. He had been slowly breaking down over the past couple weeks, and as hard as that alone was to watch, it was even more difficult seeing him struggle to hold it together in front of everyone else. Why he was letting his guard down with me, I didn’t know, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I figured it was some form of a compliment. Or maybe he just didn’t care what I thought of him anymore.

“I want you to explain to me why you thought pardoning Lila in front of the entire nation was a good idea,” he muttered.

I blinked. “Out of all the things I said, that’s what you’re upset about?”

“She’s going to get countless numbers of my men and women killed.”

“So will you. He’s blackmailing her, Knox. She doesn’t have a choice —”

“Of course she does.” At last he looked at me, his eyes narrowed. The dark smudges underneath them seemed even more pronounced than usual. “We all have a choice, Kitty. Every last one of us, and she’s made hers. She’d rather see everyone inside Elsewhere die instead of face whatever consequences Daxton has in store for her.”

“And what if it’s a choice between us or killing Celia? Or Greyson?” I said. “You can’t tell me you’d refuse.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It wouldn’t be easy, but—”

“Right. You’re the one who isn’t afraid to sacrifice a pawn or two if it means winning the game.” I glared at him. “The people love her. You can’t condemn her as a war criminal, no matter what she does. The best way to get around what she’s saying is to do exactly what I did—acknowledge her. Acknowledge the fact that she’s really on our side, but is being blackmailed. It discredits anything that comes out of her mouth.”

“If they choose to believe us. They could easily turn the tables.”

“Our story’s believable,” I said firmly. “Theirs isn’t.”

Silence lingered between us. He stared at me, and pinned by his unwavering gaze, I felt more exposed than I had in front of the camera that broadcast my face to millions. “Do you understand how perception works?” he said at last.

“I’m not an idiot,” I said, though I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. Predictably, Knox’s eyebrow shot up, and he smirked humorlessly.

“Depends on who you ask, which is exactly my point. To us, the truth is obvious. Lila is being blackmailed. She doesn’t believe a word of what she’s saying. But to others, especially those who don’t want a war—who are content with their place in society and refuse to acknowledge the cruelty committed against the lower ranks—they see what they want to see, and they’ll eat up anything that affirms their beliefs. Daxton knows that. He may not be a VI, but he knows how to manipulate the public—something he learned from Augusta, possibly, or perhaps it’s an innate talent that made her choose him in the first place. And while we know how, too, he got there first. It’s harder to disprove a lie than it is to tell people the truth from the beginning.”

“Then we stick to our story,” I said. “We don’t pander or tell the country what they want to hear. We tell them the truth, over and over if we have to. Daxton will slip up eventually, or Lila will find a way out. Whatever he’s holding against her—”