“I passed,” I whispered. “I actually passed.”
“Yes,” said Celia dully as she strode past us. “Congratulations.”
There was no warmth or pleasure in her voice, only cold hatred I didn’t understand. Instead of coming back to my room with us, she hurried down another hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. I looked up at Knox, expecting some kind of explanation, but he shook his head and forced a small smile.
“Congratulations,” he echoed. “I’d enjoy tonight if I were you. It’s the last chance you’ll have to be yourself.”
Without warning, my stomach lurched, and I took off toward the nearest bathroom. After slamming the door, I sank to my knees next to the toilet and hid my face in my hands. On the other side, Knox knocked and called out, and I slid the lock into place.
The moment I stepped out of the Stronghold, any part of me that was still Kitty Doe would cease to exist, and I would be Lila until the day they didn’t need me anymore. And when that happened, all I would be was dead.
Chapter 6
Celia shook me awake the next morning. Despite her chilliness the day before, she fussed over me as if I really were her daughter. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom while she dressed me in warm bundles of luxurious fur and leather, clothes I wouldn’t have been allowed to touch as a III, let alone wear.
“Don’t upset Daxton,” she said. “Do exactly what he tells you no matter what you see. Don’t talk back, and whatever you do, don’t step off the platform. Promise me.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “I promise.”
Celia stepped back and eyed her handiwork. “You’re my responsibility now, and I won’t let anything happen to you if I can help it. Those speeches you saw…” She paused. “Lila was doing a good thing. A great thing.”
“I know,” I said. Probably better than Celia did.
“If you want…” She hesitated. “You can continue the work she did. All the good that Daxton wants to die with her—it doesn’t have to, and that’s completely within your power. No one else’s.”
Was she joking? This had to be some sort of trap— another test to see if I would agree to commit treason. I watched her warily, refusing to say a word.
“I will only ask you this once,” said Celia. “You don’t have to give me an answer immediately. I want you to think about it. You have no reason to trust me, and I don’t expect you to, but I swear on everything I am and everything I believe that I am on your side. Do you understand?”
Again I nodded. Whether or not I trusted her was irrelevant; I had no choice but to do what Daxton told me.
“Good.” Her expression softened, and she reached toward me as if she were going to set her hands on my shoulders, but she faltered and let them fall back to her sides. “Have you ever played chess, Kitty?”
I eyed her. What did a board game have to do with this? “Not really.”
“You and I should play sometime. I think you would like it,” she said. “It’s a game of strategy, mostly. The strong pieces are in the back row, while the weak pieces— the pawns—are all in the front, ready to take the brunt of the attack. Because of their limited movement and vulnerability, most people underestimate them and only use them to protect the more powerful pieces. But when I play, I protect my pawns.”
“Why?” I said, not entirely sure where this conversation was going. “If they’re weak, then what’s the point?”
“They may be weak when the game begins, but their potential is remarkable. Most of the time, they’ll be taken by the other side and held captive until the end of the game. But if you’re careful—if you keep your eyes open and pay attention to what your opponent is doing, if you protect your pawns and they reach the other side of the board, do you know what happens then?”
I shook my head, and she smiled.
“Your pawn becomes a queen.” She touched my cheek, her fingers cold as ice. “Because they kept moving forward and triumphed against impossible odds, they become the most powerful piece in the game. Never forget that, all right? Never forget the potential one solitary pawn has to change the entire game.”
I toyed with the zipper on my coat. I understood what she meant, of course, but I couldn’t play the game she wanted me to no matter how many promises she made.
I wasn’t her pawn. I was Daxton’s. And she didn’t want me to reach her side of the board.
“What’s going to happen today?” I said, and she pressed her lips together.
“I don’t know, not for sure. Just keep your head down and your mouth shut, and you’ll be all right.”
She did know. She just didn’t want to tell me. “I will.
Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” she said, and for a moment she turned away. When she faced me again, her eyes were rimmed with red. “Right. I’ll take you to the jet, and I’ll be back in Washington by the time you arrive tonight.”
Waiting for my answer, no doubt, but I already knew what it was going to be. I wasn’t impersonating Lila to do the same things she’d done and die the same way she had. Daxton was in charge, and as long as I followed his lead, as long as I played his game, I’d be safe. As long as he still needed me, I would be alive. That was what mattered, not Lila’s speeches or Celia’s need for revenge. No matter what good they were trying to do, the Harts had ruined enough of my life already. I wasn’t going to get involved in some twisted game between them regardless of what I believed. Because above all, I was one person, and all I had was my life. I wasn’t going to do anything to give that up again.
We reached the elevator a few minutes later, and as it rose, I watched Celia in the mirrored wall. What if it was a trap? What if Celia or Daxton saw my not giving an answer as a sign that I could turn?
I already knew what it was going to be anyway. There was no point in waiting to tell her.
“Celia?” I said, steeling myself against her anger.
“What happened to your daughter is terrible, and I don’t blame you for wanting to do—whatever it is you want to do to Daxton. But I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
Instead of getting upset, Celia met my gaze in the mirror, her expression impassive. “All right. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”
“I’m not going to,” I said. No matter how bad I felt for her, staying alive for Benjy was much more important. “Can I ask you something?”