do all we can to make sure no more blood is spilled in this war. But when peace means lying down and allowing the government to execute us, for standing up for our freedom and for those who can’t stand up for themselves, I’m afraid we can’t do that. Peace without freedom is imprisonment. It’s oppression. They can try to scare us. They can try to threaten our families and our lives, but ultimately we won’t have lives if we can’t decide for ourselves how we live.
“I don’t blame Lila,” I added. “I know that, if she could, she would be here with me, giving this speech much more eloquently than I ever could. And I say to her, right now—” I looked directly into the camera. “You are not alone. Whatever Victor is holding against you, whatever he’s doing to make you obey—we know those aren’t your words, and we know they aren’t your beliefs. And we will do everything we can to help you, the way we’re doing everything we can to help the people. You are one of us, and we will not forget you.”
I paused to allow that to sink in. While the citizens of Elsewhere couldn’t have cared less about Lila, the rest of the country did, and they had to know she was a puppet. It wouldn’t completely cut off Daxton’s counterpoints, but maybe it would be enough to plant the kernel of doubt.
“This isn’t about Lila, though,” I said at last. “It isn’t about me, and it isn’t even about Victor Mercer posing as Daxton Hart. This is about you—every single person watching right now. This is about your future, your family, your health and happiness and hopes. All our lives, we’ve been living under a dictator masquerading as a friend, with no way to overthrow him and take back the freedom Americans enjoyed a hundred years ago. But the Blackcoats have opened the door of possibility. They’ve paved the way for real change, and it’s up to us to take this opportunity and turn it into a reality. Our reality. Not a dream, but something we can live. The chance to choose our own paths in life. To be more than the numbers on the backs of our necks.
“The Blackcoats have crippled the military and seized control of their main arsenals. They have infiltrated the government, and they have worked tirelessly to give us back the inalienable rights that were stolen before any of us were born. But it’s up to us to finish the job. We need to stand together against the Shields, the Harts, and the Ministers of the Union. We need to remind them that we are the ones in charge, not them—that this is our country, and after all they’ve done to us, our families, and our friends, we are revoking their privilege to rule. Because it is a privilege,” I added fiercely. “Not a right. A privilege we gave them through our compliance. And the time has come to take back what is ours. Together, we will prevail, and we will be free.”
The cheers from the former prisoners were deafening. I could see it in their faces—for these few moments, they forgot about their hunger and their despair. They believed in what I was saying. They believed in hope, and that alone had made everything I’d been through worth it.
Knox joined me on stage, but instead of saying anything to the audience, he set his hand on my shoulder and led me away. “Good,” he said. “Lila couldn’t have done it better.”
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.
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 sofa as 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 full well 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 the rebellion. 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.
Benjy and I stood in silence, our fingers still intertwined, until at last Knox appeared. He looked even worse than he had earlier, with deep shadows under his eyes and his hair sticking up as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. He stepped in front of the fireplace, with Benjy and me on one side, and his lieutenant, a fierce man called Strand, on the other. I hadn’t liked Strand since he’d first arrested me
