Queen (The Blackcoat Rebellion #3)(29)
“Lila.” Greyson’s sharp voice cut through hers, and she stopped. Instead of reaming her out, however, he nodded to the television, where a burst of static had interrupted the anchor. “Turn it up.”
She turned on the volume just in time for Knox’s face to appear. Someone had stitched up the cut underneath his eye, and he looked exhausted, but judging by the background, he had made it back to his office in Elsewhere. He was safe.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” he began, “yesterday morning, Celia Hart, one of the few living members left of the Hart family, reclaimed her familial home at Somerset from the impostor, Victor Mercer.”
“He’s wooden,” said Lila immediately. “He always has been. Can’t give a speech to save his life.”
“Quiet,” said Greyson, and she huffed.
“We expected the government to fight back,” continued Knox. Lila was right. He was wooden, and he continued to drone on as if he’d never felt a single emotion in his life. “Instead, they chose to bomb the residential sections ofSomerset and invade with an order to kill everyone on sight, knowing full well there were innocent civilians inside, including members of the staff who were never given a choice to leave or surrender. The media has releaseda list of the Blackcoats who died in the fight. But we can now confirm there is a list twice as long of the servants and staff members who were also killed. I will read them now.”
As he read off the names, several of which I recognized from my stay in Somerset, Lila looked at me. “They’re screwed without us.”
“Benjy can give a speech,” I said, my fingers laced tightly together. “I don’t know why he isn’t the one on camera.”
“Because the people know Knox’s face,” said Greyson.
“What good does that do if a dead body emotes more?” said Lila, shaking her head. “He’s killing us.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I said. “He doesn’t need to embellish it to get the point across. Every single name he’s reading—he’s made rebels of their families now. Families that probably would have never gone against the Harts otherwise. Daxton killed twenty rebels, sure, but he just created a hundred more.”
Lila fell silent, for once, and the three of us turned back to the television. Once Knox finished reading the list, he said quietly, “To the friends and families of the ones lost in the Battle of Somerset—I’m truly sorry. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten, and their names will not be lost to time. They will be remembered.”
He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a split second before raising them toward the camera once more. “I’m also deeply sorry to say that, in the midst of the fight, a key member of the Blackcoat Rebellion, Kitty Doe, disappeared. We have not yet received word on whether her body was recovered or if she has been taken by the opposition, but we will do everything humanly possible to find her.”
Knox paused and stared into the camera, and despite the fact that he had no way of knowing I was watching, it felt as if he was looking directly at me. Something inside me twisted, and I took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
“Her sacrifice and the sacrifices of those lost in the battle weren’t for nothing,” said Knox, and he straightened again, regaining the little composure he’d lost. “The Blackcoats now have in our possession proof of the impostorVictor Mercer’s identity, including medical records, photographs, and interview transcripts from the selection process, which was ordered by Augusta Hart. Unfortunately,” he added, “we have learned that every doctor who helped perform the Masking procedure on Victor died within three months after the surgeries, including the head of his team, renowned medical expert Patrick Hastings. Victor’s secret did not die with them, however, and I will nowpresentas many pieces of evidence as this time allows.”
The three of us sat glued to our seats as Knox went through each piece of evidence, starting with the picture of Victor Mercer I had found. There was no smoking gun—no pictures of Victor immediately post-surgery, no official certificate of any sort. But there was a mountain of smaller pieces of evidence that added up to an undeniable truth. Victor Mercer had replaced Daxton Hart almost a year and a half ago, and he had been running the country eversince.
The broadcast ended abruptly in another burst of static. As soon as the news anchor returned, Lila turned the television off, and we sat in silence for the better part of a minute.
“This is my fault,” said Greyson at last. “Grandmother would have never bothered to Mask a replacement if I’d been willing to be Prime Minister.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Lila. “Grandmother did whatever she wanted, the rest of us be damned.”
“But if I’d just cooperated—”
“Then what?” I said wearily, because for once, I agreed with Lila. “Would the country have been a better place?”
Greyson blinked. “I could have made things better.”
“Would you have introduced democracy?” I said. “Gotten rid of the test? Given everyone equal rights and an equal say?”
“I—” Greyson swallowed hard. “I want to say yes, but I don’t know.”
“I do.” I gave him a small smile. “Augusta would have had you under her thumb for so long that by the time she finally died, you wouldn’t have known better anymore. This is the way it had to happen. It was put into motion longbefore Victor Mercer was Masked as Daxton. If you were running the country instead of him, you would have been the one with a target on your back.”