I considered him for a long moment. “Yes,” I lied. “And if you let me put mine back, I’ll bring you Daxton’s.”
“Not a chance,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time before Daxton notices it’s missing, and I won’t have someone killed for your curiosity. You’re lucky Daxton doesn’t—”
He stopped suddenly, and his face went from red to pale to ashen in seconds as he flipped through the file again. I frowned. “What?” I said.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “He knows you’re Masked,” said Knox. “If he hid this file after Augusta died, then he knows.”
“Oh.” I exhaled. “Right. He remembers everything that happened—that I was Masked, that I tried to kill him, that Celia was probably in on it...everything. He’s been lying the whole time.”
Knox clutched the file and closed it again, slower this time. “He remembers everything? All of it? How—” He clenched his jaw, and I could see the muscles shifting underneath his skin. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because—because after Augusta’s funeral, he touched the ridges on the back of my neck and made it obvious he knows everything. And—” I swallowed hard. “I might’ve touched his, too.”
The ridges below our tattoos were the only things that set us apart from the real Harts. My VII hid a III—my real rank. The fake Daxton’s VII hid a V, the rank he’d been before being Masked as the Prime Minister. They were the only evidence anyone had to prove we’d been Masked, and as Harts, we were lucky enough that no one would ever question our VIIs. Except each other.
Knox exhaled sharply and turned away from me. From the way his shoulders rose and fell, it was obvious he was trying to collect himself. At last he faced me again, his neutral expression barely hiding the rage lurking underneath.
“You didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me this sooner?” he said, and I shrugged.
“What difference would it make?”
“It makes all the difference in the world.” His voice broke. “You have no idea—”
“So tell me,” I said. “Instead of treating me like a child and keeping secrets from me, why don’t you try trusting me instead?”
“Like you trusted me with this?” His expression grew dark. “Where did you find this file, Kitty?”
“I—”
“Where did you find it?”
I scowled. “Daxton’s office, behind the portrait. But you can’t just waltz in there in the middle of the night and—”
Before I could finish, Knox was already halfway out the door. Despite the heavy boots he wore, the plush carpet absorbed the sound of his footsteps, and I ran after him.
“Knox—wait. Wait.” I caught up to him and grabbed his elbow. “The other file, it—”
“You will stay here,” said Knox dangerously. “And you will never mention this to anyone, do you understand me?”
My mouth opened and shut. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a file.”
“And you stole it,” he said. “There was a reason I was the one assigned to this job and not you. I can read and gather all the relevant information without Daxton ever knowing we have it—and without ever knowing the Blackcoats have support in Somerset. Now, thanks to you, all of that’s in jeopardy. If he discovers you’re behind this, then he will figure out I’m helping you. Do you understand?”
“But—it doesn’t have to be you,” I said. “It could be anyone—”
“Who else? Benjy?”
All the air left my lungs, and I could feel the blood drain from my face, leaving my skin cold and clammy. “No. He doesn’t have anything to do with this, and you will not frame him—”
“If you get caught, then it’s either him or me,” said Knox. “Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to win the game.”
“You won’t,” I said, rage surging through me. “If you try, I’ll tell Daxton everything. I don’t care if he kills me.”
“Then let’s both try to make it out of this alive,” said Knox coldly. “Stay here and let me fix this. I won’t tell you again.”
He walked away, his strides long and purposeful, and for a moment I considered not following him. All I had to do was grab the duffel bag I’d hidden and walk straight into Knox’s suite, and Benjy and I would be halfway across the city before Knox realized what we’d done. We’d be free.
I was two steps from the door before I stopped myself. We wouldn’t be free. We would never be free, not until Daxton was dead and Greyson—or Knox, or Celia, or whoever was in charge—gave me my life back. The Shields would hunt us until they found us, and if we were lucky, they’d kill us before Daxton had the chance to send us Elsewhere. There was no such thing as freedom, not in this country, and if Knox was serious about framing Benjy for his crimes, then there was no telling what Daxton might do to him for treason.
I had to know what Knox was doing. He’d kept me in the dark long enough—I couldn’t let him run the show, not this time.
My mind made up, I took off down the hallway, avoiding the corners where the guards were positioned. I ducked through the atrium and past the elevator, making sure I was below the railing so the guards couldn’t see me. My footsteps were as silent as Knox’s, and before long, I crouched a few rooms down from the entrance to Daxton’s suite. Two guards stood outside, both alert with their eyes straight forward. I swore inwardly.
I slipped through the nearest open door, into a dark sitting room meant for guests of the Prime Minister. Squinting, I peered into the corners, and relief washed over me when I spotted a vent.
Within seconds, I climbed onto an end table and pulled myself up. I had memorized the ventilation system when I’d first moved into Somerset, and it was only two quick turns to Daxton’s private living quarters.
I stilled, listening for any signs of life. In the distance, I picked up a soft murmur, but it was too far away for me to make out. Fear prickled in the base of my spine. If Daxton had caught Knox trying to replace my file...
Crawling as quickly as I dared, I made my way from room to room, searching for the source of the conversation. His bedroom and sitting rooms were empty; the same with his multiple guest rooms. At last I came to his office, and with a sinking heart, I situated myself over the vent. Two voices rose up to meet me: Daxton’s and Knox’s.
“...don’t care,” said Daxton, his tone clipped with annoyance. “I’ve given you far more chances than you deserve.”
“I’m not asking for another chance,” said Knox. His voice cracked, and he sounded like a cornered animal. “I’m asking you to look at the facts.”
“I am,” said Daxton, “and what I see is a long list of reasons why I should stop putting up with this foolishness. The files are only the beginning. My patience is
