Pawn (The Blackcoat Rebellion #1)(66)
Author: Aimee Carter

I let out a shaky breath. I didn’t care about how Benjy and I would pay for our perfect life together—I just wanted it to happen. I didn’t want to be Lila anymore.

But I wanted to help those people, too. Everyone who had heard me speak in New York, everyone who had been branded and oppressed, whose entire lives had been dictated by one test while others were able to coast by, receiving their marks because of the family they’d been born into and education lower ranks couldn’t afford—it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to the people, and it wasn’t fair to society.

I’d believed everything I’d said in my speech. I was one person, a III in a world that thought people like me were worthless. I could make a difference with this face, though. I would have a purpose. I couldn’t walk away from it now, no matter how badly I wanted to.

“No one’s going to kill me when it’s over?” I said.

“What happens if Daxton finds out? What happens if he remembers?”

“You’ll be safe,” said Knox. He set a hand on my knee, and beside me, Benjy huffed. “I promise no one will touch you. Not Daxton, not Celia, no one. They’ll have to kill me first.”

“Me, too,” said Benjy. I didn’t see the look he must have been giving Knox, but Knox removed his hand from my knee and straightened. “She’s my girlfriend, and I’ll protect her.”

I frowned. “I don’t need anyone’s protection. No one else is going to die because of me, all right? I mean it.”

I glared at Benjy. “Especially not you.”

Benjy looked away, and I knew he wouldn’t listen. And when Knox shook his head, I knew he wouldn’t, either.

“We’ll do what we have to do,” said Knox. “And I’ll do what I have to do to help you. For what it’s worth, you have my word.”

I stared at the floor. This was the only purpose I had anymore, and I couldn’t live with myself if I walked away knowing I could have done something to help.

Just a little while longer, I told myself, and then Benjy and I would be free to live the rest of our lives in peace.

All I could do in the meantime was make sure he and Knox didn’t do anything stupid to protect me.

This time I would be Lila on my own terms. Not Daxton’s, not Celia’s. Not even Knox’s.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

Benjy said nothing. This was my decision, though. He was a VI; he couldn’t understand. I’d only been a III for a day—one miserable, rotten day—and it had changed my entire life. No one deserved to have someone else control their future, and I wasn’t about to let my fear of Daxton dictate mine.

Knox smiled and took my hand. “Thank you,” he said.

“For everything. You won’t regret this.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but at least now I had the chance to choose my fate, and I would do whatever it took to make sure everyone else did, too.

Augusta’s funeral was held the day Daxton was well enough to leave the infirmary. It was my first public appearance with the family as Lila, and I slipped easily into the role.

No one told Daxton exactly how she had died, and he didn’t seem to care. Even though we were in public, he showed a stunning lack of emotion. And why wouldn’t he? Not only was he not her real son, but now he was free to run the entire country any way he pleased without a single person telling him what to do.

If I had anything to say about it, though, that wouldn’t last long.

The funeral was held in a cathedral with vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows. Spots of color appeared on the ground when the sun broke through the clouds, and it was breathtaking. Mourners filled the pews, none of them ranked below a V, and not a single one looked sincerely broken up over Augusta’s death. Plenty had crocodile tears in their eyes, but as we passed, their greedy looks and furtive smiles gave them away.

What was left of the family sat together in the front pew. Benjy was in the back with the others, leaving me to sit between Knox and Greyson, who had barely said a word to me since I’d killed Augusta.

As Daxton passed, he patted Greyson on the shoulder.

“Such a shame, son,” he murmured, but even I could see the glint of malice in his eyes. As he walked away to take his place at the end of the pew, the look Greyson gave him sent a jolt down my spine.

Greyson knew he wasn’t Daxton.

I touched Greyson’s hand, but he pulled away, and a wave of guilt washed over me. “When did you find out?” I whispered.

He furrowed his brow. “You know?”

I nodded. “I felt it when I…”

A muscle in Greyson’s jaw twitched, and he leaned in close enough to put his lips against my ear. “The night my mother and brother died—I stayed behind because I was working on a new project. It had nothing to do with China. My father…” His voice hitched. “He was in the car with them. Grandmother tried to pretend he had survived, but I knew.”

Of course he knew. I’d been an idiot to think he wouldn’t have.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and he looked away.

“Don’t be. He’ll be lost without Grandmother, and it’ll only be a matter of time before it’s my turn.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said softly, and he swallowed. As badly as I wanted his forgiveness, I knew it would be a long time before he was willing to give it. In the meantime, I’d do everything I could to make sure Greyson never had to be prime minister if he didn’t want to. If I was stuck as a Hart, then I was damn well going to make it count.

I’d spent the days before the funeral speaking into an audio recorder, and after waking up in a cold sweat when I dreamed of Augusta’s final moments again and again, I’d spent the nights doing the same. I created my own speeches, though none of them lived up to the one I’d given in New York. I talked about Celia and what had driven her to do the things she’d done; I spoke about the differences between the lives of those who weren’t in charge and the lives of those who were. I said the words that had been building up inside me, waiting for release, and even though it took days, I thought they were finally ready.

I would make an appearance in Denver later that week, Knox told me. And after listening to my latest speech, he’d agreed it would be the one I gave. It would be fitting, I thought, considering Denver was the city that would have been my home had I accepted my role as a III. At the very least, I could look out across the audience and know I meant more to them doing this than I would have cleaning sewers.