Once she was gone, I shut the door and tried to move back to the couch, but my legs gave way underneath me, and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing harder than I had since this whole mess had begun.
I don’t know how long I sat there, choking on my own tears, but suddenly a pair of familiar arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I leaned against Benjy, clinging to him. He held me, not saying a word as I cried myself out. There was nothing to say anyway. No magic formula of words to make it any better. It was what it was—the end for her. The end of all her possibilities, and despite what she said, it was the end of the Blackcoat Rebellion.
“Daxton wants you there,” whispered Benjy, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said hoarsely, and he helped me up. I’d known this was coming. The real Daxton had forced Lila to watch her father’s execution; there was simply no way Victor Mercer would let me miss Celia’s.
I splashed cold water on my face and dressed in all black. Daxton might have considered this a celebration, but no one would mistake me for a reveler. My eyes were still red and puffy, so I found a pair of sunglasses and put them on, too. When I returned, someone had brought me breakfast, and I stared at the ham and eggs like they were made of plastic.
“You need to eat something,” said Benjy, who sat on the couch waiting for me. “You barely had anything at all last night. The kitchen tried to give you steak, but I made them switch it out for ham.”
Feeling more like a robot following commands than a real human being, I managed a few mouthfuls of eggs. They tasted like nothing, even though I didn’t doubt they were seasoned to perfection.
“Good. And a bite of ham. Just one,” encouraged Benjy, and reluctantly I cut off a piece. I stabbed it with the tip of the knife hard enough for the metal to screech against the china, and I winced. They may have traded steak for ham, but they’d left the sharp knife on my plate.
“There,” I said, once I’d eaten it. “Happy?”
“Yes. Thank you,” said Benjy, and he offered me his hand. “Let’s go.”
I started to reach for it, but I was still holding on to the knife. A guard poked his head into the room, and Benjy turned away. He was still on my side—he would always be on my side. But that was the moment I chose to slide the knife into the sleeve of my leather jacket before taking his hand.
Greyson waited for us in the car, and he too wore all black. He offered me a tiny, watery smile, and I slid in beside him, hugging his arm and resting my head on his shoulder. I didn’t dare say anything, not when I knew the driver could be listening, but there was nothing to say anyway. Though Greyson hadn’t been present at dinner the night before, he must have known what we were doing here, and talking about it wouldn’t make any of this any easier.
Minutes later, we arrived at the edge of a park near Somerset, and though it was barely dawn, thousands of people had already braved the freezing morning air to gather around and watch the execution. I didn’t know how many were there to celebrate the end of the rebellion and how many were simply chomping at the bit to see Celia die, but whether they were here for entertainment or out of morbid curiosity, I hated them all.
Camera crews lined the front, blocking most of the audience’s view. Security cleared a path for us to make our way to the stage, where Daxton already waited. It was the same kind of platform Mercer had used in Elsewhere to kill Scotia and her Blackcoat supporters; the same kind of platform I’d stood on while giving my speech to the entire country, revealing my real identity and exposing Daxton’s. D.C. was really no different from Elsewhere, in the end. At least the Mercers had been open about their brutality and the consequences of straying an inch out of line. Here, the people gathered had no idea how little control they had over their own lives.
“Good morning, Lila,” chirped Daxton. He was dressed in a blue suit and red coat with an American flag pinned to the lapel, but he didn’t comment on my outfit. I couldn’t fathom him expecting anything else. “Ah, Greyson. So pleased to see you could join us.”
Neither Greyson nor I responded. Instead we stood together, side by side, and waited in the frigid morning as sunlight began to sneak across the park. A chorus of shouts echoed from the edge, and I turned in time to see the guards forcing a path again, this time with Celia between them.
She’d been cleaned up and dressed in a blue jumpsuit, and she walked with her head held high, not making eye contact with anyone in the crowd. But though they were loud, I didn’t hear any boos—instead, several of them reached for her, trying to touch her as she passed.