Queen (The Blackcoat Rebellion #3)(30)
Lila’s mouth fell open. “The Blackcoats would have never hurt Greyson—”
“You would have gone after Augusta,” I agreed. “And I’m sure Greyson would have been much more willing to compromise. But there’s a reason we can’t just assassinate Daxton and be done with it. The army, the Shields, the Ministers of the Union—the key components of the country as it stands would still exist without him, and that is the problem.”
“So how are we supposed to win this war?” she spat, and I shrugged.
“By turning the rebellion into a revolution. And we can do that with the people on our side. But we have to come up with a plan. I know Daxton is using Greyson against you, so we need to find a way around that. We need to get Greyson to safety, or—”
“I’m not leaving Lila,” he said firmly. “And I’m not leaving you, either. You’re my sister.”
His words brought me up short. This, I realized, was the first time we’d been face-to-face since I’d discovered the real Daxton Hart had been my biological father. Greyson must have heard my speech. I searched his expression forany sign of disgust or sarcasm, but I found only fierce determination. He believed me. Just like that, without any real proof, other than the color of my eyes, he trusted me enough to accept me as his own flesh and blood.
“Then we’ll all find a way out of here together,” I said, a smile flickering across my face. It was brief, but it was genuine. “There are three of us and only one of him, and he isn’t half as smart as he thinks he is. There mustbe something we aren’t thinking of.”
“When the hell did you become the brains of this operation?” said Lila, eyeing me warily.
“The day you gave up,” I said without malice. I should have been offended, but it was a legitimate question. Greyson was a genius who invented things I couldn’t even dream of, and Lila was the one with the silver tongue and the zinger for every situation. I couldn’t even read. My only worthwhile quality was the fact that my eyes matched hers.
Her expression soured, but before she could retaliate, the bedroom door opened, and a pair of guards entered. “You need to come with us,” one of them announced.
“Where are we going?” said Greyson as he stood and reached for a pair of crutches in the corner. I carefully swung my legs around. Someone had dressed me in flannel pajamas, and my foot was in a brace.
“The Ministers of the Union have called a meeting, and they would like for the three of you to be present for it,” said the second guard. I took the crutches from Greyson and stood, wobbling as I leaned on them. I’d used them before for an ankle sprain, but that had been years ago.
“What’s the meeting about?” I said as the three of us traipsed toward the door. Greyson remained at my side, his arm held out as if he intended to catch me if I fell. Some long-buried part of me swelled with an emotion I couldn’t name. Pride? Relief? Gratitude? Acceptance? Despite our differences, and despite all I’d done to work against his family, he still welcomed me as his sister, unconditionally. I didn’t deserve him. None of us did. He was too damn good for the world he’d been born into.
“Follow us,” said the first guard, leaving my question unanswered. I hobbled as fast as I could down the long hallway that led through the heart of the Stronghold, stopping only when we reached the elevator that could take us upto the open sky.
Instead of hitting the top button, however, the guard hit a lower floor, and the elevator glided downward. As I struggled to keep my balance on my crutches, I caught sight of myself in the mirrored walls. Daxton hadn’t just let the doctors treat my foot—I was cleaned up, too, with all traces of my stay in Elsewhere completely gone. The cuts and bruises I’d accumulated, the freckles that had appeared under the cold sunlight—someone had even dyed my roots to match. I glanced at my nails. My manicure was back.
Daxton wanted me for something. He had kept me alive for a reason, and whatever that reason was, he wanted me to look like the best version of myself—or what passed for myself—as possible. I suppose it hadn’t gained him much favor, having Lila’s double look like a mess on national television. It showed ill treatment on the government’s part, and when sympathies for Lila were still so strong, it made sense that he would want me looking like I hadn’tjustspent weeks in the worst place in the country.
The guards led us through a maze of hallways, and by the time we reached the meeting room, my arms trembled with exertion. Greyson quickly found a chair for me along the edge of the spartan room, and I sank into it gratefully while taking in the faces of the twelve Ministers of the Union.
I had met most of them at one party or another during my tenure as Lila, and I tried to remember their names. Minister Bradley was a given; he’d cropped up too many times in my life as of late for me to ever forget his wanderingeyes or handlebar mustache. I’d seen Minister Creed, Knox’s father, from a distance, but had never officially met him—which, in retrospect, seemed odd, considering I was supposed to be his son’s fiancée. I remembered what Knox had told me about his twin brother, and any connection I might have felt toward the senior Creed vanished.
Daxton burst into the room, flanked by a pair of guards. He wore a well-cut dark suit, and his hair was slicked back the way Victor Mercer had worn it in the single photograph I’d seen. I glanced at Greyson to see if he’d noticed, too. He stared at the man posing as his father with more hate in his eyes than I’d thought he was capable of.