“Your family has dined here many times, along with the Ministers of the Union and their loved ones,” she said, gesturing to the dark wood and silver candlesticks. Rich oil paintings hung on the walls, and I recognized a man in one—Daxton’s grandfather, the original ruler of the new United States. The one who had put the ranking system into place and, according to Augusta, saved the country from economic ruin.
Even back then, in the darkest hours of history, it had to have been less barbaric than this place.
“Does my family own this home?” I said as we approached the back of the house. Hannah nodded stiffly.
“Daxton—the Prime Minister allows us to stay here while we watch over the prisoners,” she said. “Another reason why we feel it only appropriate you stay with us. I have one more room to show you down here.”
She opened another door, and I stepped inside what was probably the simplest room of the house, but I instantly understood why she’d saved it for last. All three outer walls were made of glass, and the ceiling was angled, allowing for an uninterrupted view of the sky. A line of trees cut off most of the view of Elsewhere, giving it the illusion of being nothing more than a home in the middle of a beautiful forest.
“This is what’s called a solarium. It’s my favorite place,” said Hannah, her voice low, as if she were admitting some kind of embarrassing secret. “It’s especially beautiful at night.”
“It—looks like it would be,” I said tightly. The thought of there being any kind of real beauty in this place seemed so diametrically opposed to the ugliness and horror that I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. But maybe that was the point. Maybe this was how Hannah stayed above it all. If what she’d told me was true, I couldn’t blame her, not really.
We lingered for another minute before she led me to a staircase in the back of the house, and we headed upward. “The third floor is mostly mine and Jonathan’s,” she said. “The second floor is meant for guests. Jonathan took the liberty of having a room set up for you. I hope you like pink.”
She led me down the hallway toward a door marked The Augusta Suite. I nearly gagged at the thought of staying anywhere Augusta had slept, but my disgust grew less vehement when Hannah opened the door.
Inside lay a bedroom that would have been more appropriate for a preteen girl than for Lila Hart, decorated in shades of pink and gold with decals of three-dimensional butterflies glued to the far wall. The gold canopy bed was hidden by a shimmering fabric, and a stained-glass window depicting a sunset cast hues into a mirrored wall, making the entire room explode in color.
“It’s...younger than you may be used to, but you have your own bathroom, and I made sure the servants removed the dolls.” Hannah’s voice had a nervous edge to it, as if she was afraid I was going to judge it harshly after spending the night in a room half this size crammed with twenty other girls.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you. Do you have a daughter?”
Hannah shook her head. “Jonathan and I don’t have any children.”
There was a wistful look to her that made me wonder if she had wanted children, or if she’d had them once and lost them. Asking outright was likely to shatter whatever tentative peace we’d created between us, but another question popped into my mind.
“If you had children,” I said, “would they be allowed to leave Elsewhere and become part of society?”
She pursed her lips, not meeting my eye. “If you’re born Elsewhere, you stay Elsewhere. No one except Jonathan and the other appointed officials ever leave, not without executive order.”
“So you haven’t...?”
“No. Not since I was arrested.” She stepped into the room and opened the drawers. “I’ve set aside some of my old clothes. They might be a little loose, but they should fit. If you’re staying here, I don’t want to see you wearing that damn jumpsuit.”
I glanced down. The red had seemed to stick out like a sore thumb the day before, but now I knew it was the only way for me to blend in. No one else wore regular clothes. Even Hannah wore a white uniform. “I’ll change later. I need to go back to the bunkhouse and—get my things.”
“Your things?” said Hannah, eyebrow arched. “What things?”
I’d tucked the napkin Benjy had drawn for me underneath my mattress for safekeeping, but more urgently, I needed to make sure Noelle knew I was all right. “Just—something sentimental,” I said. “It doesn’t have any real value. I just want to have it.”
She took a long breath and released it sharply. “If you insist. At least wait until after lunch. I suppose I’ll be able to stomach one meal with you in that thing.”
I had to bite my lip to stop myself from a retort I’d likely regret. “Thanks,” I managed, and I stepped out of the pink-and-gold room. “Which way?”
Hannah led me farther down the hallway, presumably toward another staircase. Before we reached it, however, we passed an open door, and out of habit, I glanced inside.
It was another guest room—this time marked The Edward Suite—and it was decorated in navy and silver. A four-poster bed and other mahogany furniture dominated the room, and unlike the Augusta Suite, this had no stained glass. It was comfortable, but there were no frills or personal touches.
Except for one. On the bedside table was a gold frame with a labyrinth etched into the metal—the exact same one Greyson had given me for Lila’s birthday.
I stopped in the doorway. This must have been the room Knox was staying in, only a few yards from mine. It would be incredibly easy to sneak into his room and slit his throat in the middle of the night. If I did it right, he might even think I was there to ask his forgiveness. It would be simple. One piece of that stained glass, one slash to the throat—
“He misses you,” said Hannah over my shoulder.
“Knox?” I said, too startled to hide my surprise. “He doesn’t miss me. He never loved me in the first place. It was all some twisted political arrangement.”
“Maybe that’s how it started, and maybe that’s what it is for you, but I know love when I see it. That man would move heaven and earth to keep you safe.”
The ludicrousness of her statement fueled me with an insane kind of courage, and I stepped into the room, heading straight for the picture frame. I picked it up and examined the photograph of Greyson and me inside. I’d been Elsewhere for a single day, but already that felt like another lifetime ago.