“Indeed. It’s good to hear from you again.” Theia’s voice is several degrees warmer than it’s ever been.
I keep my eyes on Taylor, who hasn’t looked at me once since we arrived. Every muscle in her is rigid; whatever is wrong silently eats away at her. “Now, Patricia, I believe these terms are more than generous on our part.”
Wolfshield snickers and sits on top of her desk. “I imagined they would be. Neither of us wants the mutually assured destruction which would inevitably occur if you launched an invasion.”
“I do not want to lose any more of my citizens than we already have,” Theia replies. “The Southeast’s continued resistance only further depletes their resources and their population. But you are not as foolish as Thomas, and your people are not as stubborn as those who live there. At least, I hope not.”
The Southwest Region Leader is not in any way bowed by Theia’s veiled threats. Rather, she smiles and leans back. “And the Order doesn’t want a war on several fronts, I’m sure. Or for me to bolster the Southeast’s resistance with my own forces, which Thomas has asked for.”
“Has he?” Theia chuckles. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him that unlike the others, I did not build a region of straw. Not one flame, nor five, will set my region on fire.”
I can’t help but laugh incredulously. “And yet you still abducted a person for leverage.”
“I am confident, but I am not cocky.” Leader Wolfshield shifts, comfortable and confident. “I will not gamble lives that are not my own.”
“I can’t say I approve of your alternative method,” Theia says.
“You don’t?” Wolfshield smirks and nods toward me. “The Northeast heiress in my office begs to differ.”
“Yes, well, let us not dawdle. Send the accord back with my soldiers and we will be in touch. Eos, please debrief Hunter and Luciana. I look forward to seeing you, ladies.”
“Later,” Hunter calls.
Taylor stands with her arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart, looking like she’s about to launch at Wolfshield, though the looks she’s giving Hunter are not the adoring glances I thought they’d be. She appears vaguely suspicious of everyone. Except maybe me. And I don’t know how to feel about her at all.
Ahote reappears in the doorway, unarmed, with his hands behind his back. Wolfshield nods to him. “Ahote, please escort the soldiers to the receiving room and retrieve their weapons.” She hands a few papers to Taylor, who rolls them up and jams them into the back pocket of her jeans. “Hunter, I will not apologize for the actions that led you here. I will, however, commend you on your adaptability and behavior in our custody.”
“Anytime, ma’am,” Hunter says drolly.
Wolfshield snickers. “I hope not.”
Hunter and Ahote speak quietly as he walks us back to the room through which we entered. Taylor’s eyes are firmly planted on their backs, intently focused. Once rearmed, we pause awkwardly in the room as Hunter and Ahote look at each other, then at us.
“Taylor, may I speak with you in private? Outside?” Taylor stops short of glaring at me, but agrees without a word. With her back turned, Hunter shoots me an appreciative smile. On our way out, Taylor’s pace picks up until she’s barreling through the door.
She aggressively runs her fingers through her hair. “Yes, Miss Piccolo?”
“Did you kidnap me on purpose?” No easier way to a point than straight at it.
Taylor tilts her head in apparent confusion. “I don’t understand what you mean. How would I have kidnapped you by accident?”
Oh, this girl, I swear. “Was your plan, the night of the ball, to kidnap me instead of killing my father?”
I watch her closely. Every twitch of her face, every pore in her skin, every muscle in her body. Nothing changes, except her eyes. They go soft. “Why do you think that?”
“Taylor, please.”
My former—current?—captor doesn’t look panicked, like someone who got caught in a lie. Rather, she’s thoughtful. Wistful. “Yes.”
One syllable, but it stops my heart. “Yes?”
“Yes, I planned your kidnapping. I had no intention of executing your father the night of the ball. My intention, known to no one but me, was to safely remove you from the ballroom and place you within the protection of the Order.”
The truth. Here, under this purple blanket of night, illuminated by flickering fluorescents, I finally get the truth. The suffering, the anxiety, the loneliness, the pain I’ve experienced has been by design. By her design, this woman I’ve let inside me.
“Lucy?” Taylor’s expression moves from melancholy to panic, and as I raise my hand to aggravatedly run my fingers through my hair, she winces as if anticipating a slap to her face.
