“I’ll try,” he said, and he settled back down into bed. “Good night, Kitty.”
“Good night,” I said, and for the first time since I’d arrived in the Stronghold, it was a good night. Or at least as good as it would ever get, with Lila gone and Daxton still alive. Knox was okay. Greyson had something to focus on other than the loss of his best friend. And now we had a direct line of communication to the rebellion. The Blackcoats’ chances of winning the war had never been better, and though my guilt over Lila’s death was a deep,constant ache that I knew would never leave me, as I drifted off to sleep, for the first time I let myself picture what my life could look like when this was all over.
Several weeks passed, and Greyson and I continued to be virtually imprisoned in Lila’s room together. We had a small Christmas celebration that didn’t include much more than a sip of champagne for us both, and we rang in the NewYear by watching the news anchors report on a story about a bombing in New York that Knox assured us hadn’t happened. Daxton continued to avoid us, and by the time mid-January rolled around, I had become certain we wouldn’tsee him until the war was over. The few times I tried to go see him, I was denied by guards I was sure would enjoy shooting me if I gave them an excuse, and no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find a way to get to him inside the Stronghold. He was invulnerable.
But then, one evening, as Greyson and I sat across from one another on the sofa, each sketching the other, a guard burst into the room. I jumped, and my pencil made a dark line across the middle of Greyson’s nose.
“The Prime Minister requests your presence at dinner,” he said gruffly.
“Now?” I said.
“Immediately.”
Together Greyson and I stood, and I pulled on a pair of Lila’s most comfortable shoes. My foot had mostly healed by now—enough for me to walk without painkillers, at least—but I slipped my arm into Greyson’s for extra support aswe followed the guard.
Daxton already sat at the head of the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. He stood as we entered and performed an exaggerated bow. “Greyson. My dear Lila. How I’ve missed you both.”
“If only we could say the same,” I said. Though it had been jarring before, now that I had known Lila—now that I had spoken with her and had meaningful interactions, now that I had come to care about her as more than just the girl I had to be—playing a dead girl made my skin crawl.
Greyson and I started toward Daxton’s end of the long table, but two guards stopped us less than a third of the way down. “Your seats are over there, I’m afraid,” said Daxton, gesturing past us. Two place settings sat at the very end of the table, dishes already served. “It isn’t that I don’t crave your company, of course—it’s my guards, you see. Terribly overprotective.”
So my suspicions were right; he must have had some idea that Greyson and I wanted nothing more than to kill him. At least we were all on the same playing field. I took my seat and eyed the juicy steak on the plate. Of course that was what Daxton had chosen to serve us—to serve Lila, who didn’t eat red meat. It was possible he suspected me, but it had been a long time since I’d tried to eat something I knew full well Lila wouldn’t touch. It was far morelikely he was just trying to upset me. Upset Lila. And she would have risen to the bait.
“Are you trying to starve me on purpose?” I demanded, picking up the wine instead. Daxton’s hand flew to his chest in a mock apology.
“Oh—oh, dear. Did they...? Of course they did.” He motioned to one of the servers. “I’ve made Lila’s dietary requirements crystal clear to you all. Why you can’t follow a simple request, I’ve no idea.”
Wordlessly the server picked up my plate, and within seconds he replaced it with a chicken stew. It smelled like something Nina, the matron of my group home, would have made, and if I’d had any appetite at all, I would have inhaled it. Annoyed, I picked up my utensils, wishing Greyson and I were taking dinner in Lila’s room instead. At least he appeared to be content for now, cutting into his steak without complaint.
“There, much better,” said Daxton, and he took a bite of his meal. With his mouth full, he added, “Have you two been keeping up with the news?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is that why you wanted us to come to dinner? To make sure we knew you’re winning?”
“To make sure you knew we are winning, darling,” he said. “After all, when we eradicate the rebels, you will both be at the forefront of the celebrations.”