Lila’s mouth twisted with barely disguised disgust. “She can give your speech tonight, but we want her on a helicopter to D.C. by midnight. You want to prove to the public that you’re really sympathetic and mean us no harm. What better way to do that than to release her? And not only that, but you’ll be sending a clear message to the Blackcoats. You’re not afraid of them. Especially not a seventeen-year-old III.”
“You make a good case, but that isn’t surprising. You could sell sand in the desert, my dear Lila,” he said with a smile that, from anyone else, would have been warm. “Both offers are enticing, and both have their merits. But you forget, I could just as well keep you all.”
“You could,” I said coolly. “But where’s the fun in that?”
He barked with laughter, throwing his head back in an undignified manner that would have made the prim and proper Augusta curl her upper lip. “Indeed. I’ll tell you what. I will accept one of your offers—after Kitty’s broadcast, provided she follows my script.”
“Which offer?” said Lila, and he shrugged.
“That’s the fun of it, isn’t it? You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Neither Lila nor Greyson seemed to think it was any more fun than I did, but we kept our collective mouths shut, and after lunch ended, I returned to my room. Each of them had a suite down the same hallway, it turned out, but they didn’t invite me into theirs, and I didn’t ask. I wanted to get out of the Stronghold and out from under Daxton’s thumb more than anything, but I couldn’t do it at the expense of their freedom. I wouldn’t.
It was entirely possible I wouldn’t have much of a choice, however, and I spent the rest of the afternoon icing my foot and scanning the news channels, searching for any new messages from Knox or the Blackcoats. I tried to sleep, but the anxiety churning in my stomach kept me from dozing off.
I couldn’t go off script, not if I wanted to have a chance to get Greyson and Lila out of here. In my mind, at least, mine was the better deal. If Daxton let me go, he would have gained nothing from keeping me alive to begin with; but if he released Lila and Greyson, he would have me as a prisoner at his beck and call.
Despite my cautious optimism, I knew the most likely scenario would be Daxton refusing to honor either deal, and all three of us remaining in the Stronghold for the rest of the war. Maybe we would find a way out eventually, but not in time to do much to help the current efforts. For now, I could only hope Daxton’s stupidity in revealing Celia’s mistake bought us the support we needed, the way Knox seemed to think it would.
A knock sounded on my door shortly before dinner. I’d managed to dress myself in something other than flannel pajamas, choosing from the half dozen outfits hanging in the closet. “Come in.”
I wasn’t sure who I was expecting—no one in the Stronghold would listen to me, anyway, if I’d tried to deny them entry—but relief coursed through me at the sight of Greyson. “You look nice,” he said, nodding toward the cocktail dress I wore.
“Getting my foot through pants hurts too much to try right now,” I said, tugging awkwardly at the waist. I’d worn plenty of fancy dresses as Lila, but I’d never gotten the hang of them completely. “Is it almost time for dinner?”
“In a few minutes,” he said, closing the door behind him and turning the lock with a click. I looked up, frowning.
“What—”
“I have something for you.” He held up a small velvet box, the kind that usually held a ring or a fancy pair of earrings. Lila had had dozens of them in Somerset. “An early Christmas present.”
I had no idea what day it was anymore, let alone how close it was to Christmas. A week, maybe, but I couldn’t be sure. “What is it?” I said, taking the box and weighing it in my hand.
“Open it and see.”
I untied the ribbon. He’d given me two gifts before: the first, a necklace that had doubled as several different kinds of lock picks, had been meant for Lila. The second had been a picture frame that, when the right button waspushed, revealed a photograph of me—the real me—and Benjy on the last Christmas we’d spent together as ourselves. Both were exactly what I’d needed at the time, even if I hadn’t known it then.
I cracked open the box to reveal a tiny silver cuff that matched my necklace. It was simple—the kind of thing that blended in as an accessory rather than standing out. Nothing that would capture notice, even if Daxton was looking right at it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, and it was. It was a fine piece of jewelry, with silver vines wrapping around to form the cuff. “How am I supposed to, uh—wear it?”
“Here, allow me.” Greyson plucked it from the velvet box and scooted closer to me. “Look at the television.”
Obediently I turned my head, and Greyson slid the cuff onto the cartilage of my ear, sliding it down until it rested just above the lobe. He gave it a gentle tug, and it stayed on firmly, no piercing required. I touched it, running my fingertips over the metal. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He inched away to give us both a little more room and folded his hands in his lap. “It’s one part of a three-piece set.”
“Where are the other pieces?” I said, and he held up his wrist. A plain silver cuff link caught the light.