High praise, considering she had managed to rally the initial support for the Blackcoats from nothing but mild discontent. “Do you think they’ll listen?” I said.
He pressed his lips together as we descended the stairs toward a waiting Benjy, the crowd’s screams ringing in my ears. “They’d better. We can’t do this alone.”
And if we didn’t have the support of the people outside Elsewhere, too, then we were already dead.
II
Supply and Demand
The highest-ranking Blackcoats gathered in the living room of the luxurious Mercer Manor, a mansion that had been built inside Elsewhere to house Jonathan and Hannah Mercer. It served as our headquarters now, and most of the rebel leaders were hulking and scarred soldiers who appeared extremely out of place beside crystal vases filled with fake flowers and paintings of pastel landscapes. They looked as uncomfortable sitting on the fancy gilded sofaas I felt standing underneath a portrait of Daxton Hart. The way a few of the soldiers were eyeing it, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be there long.
While we waited for Knox to finish up in his office, Benjy joined me and laced his fingers through mine. After my speech, he’d gotten swept up in a discussion with a handful of officers, and we hadn’t had the chance to talk until now. As the others spoke in low voices, I squeezed his hand. “That was terrifying.”
He ducked toward me, his lips brushing my ear. “I can’t believe Knox finally let you tell everyone about Daxton.”
I bristled. “He didn’t let me do anything. We planned it together, and I was the one in front of the cameras.”
Benjy hesitated, and I half expected him to drop my hand. Instead, to my surprise, he kissed my cheek before he straightened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I forced myself to unclench my teeth. It had been a long, stressful morning, and the last thing I wanted was to take my anxiety out on him. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Benjy, more than anyone else in that room, understood why Knox and I fought constantly. As much as Knox had helped me since I’d been Masked as Lila, he had also played fast and loose with my life, at times seeming as if he didn’t care at all whether I made it out of this alive. And while I loved to blame him for it, I hadn’t exactly been as careful as I could have been about my safety, either. But when I took risks, I did so willingly, knowing fullwell what the consequences might be. When Knox took risks, his own neck was never on the line. It was always mine. And he usually didn’t bother to tell me what he was doing.
More often than not, Benjy was caught in the middle somehow. Knox had had no problem faking his death, sending him to Elsewhere, and putting him at risk time and time again as well, and no matter how often he insisted he did it for Benjy’s safety, I had stopped believing him the moment he first put Benjy in the line of fire by hiring him as his assistant. I was the pawn in this game, not Benjy. I was the III who had no place in the world beyond therebellion. Benjy was a VI—the highest rank a citizen could attain—and he had a future. A real future. I wouldn’t let anyone, especially not Knox, take that away from him.
But no matter how bitter I was about everything that had happened since I had become Lila Hart, the fact remained that I believed in Knox. I believed he was doing the right thing, and even if I didn’t always agree with his methods—or, more accurately, with how he didn’t seem to trust me with his plans, even when I was a key part of so many—I still knew he wouldn’t sacrifice my life unless he had to. And if my death was the difference between winning the war and losing, I would walk the plank willingly. He knew I would do anything to destroy Daxton Hart and help the people win freedom and equality and real opportunity.
So he used me. And no matter how much I complained, I let him.
We were both too stubborn and too convinced we were each in the right. It worked well when we were on the same page, but when we weren’t, we both used our strengths against each other. And that had yet to turn out well for either of us.