“Yes,” Theia says, with a curt nod to indicate her subordinate should sit the hell back down. Taylor does, but with a seemingly uncharacteristic level of petulance. “Luciana, I’m sure this is not the conclusion you wanted. However, I hope you understand that the extraordinary circumstances have forced our hand. Normally, anyone non-Order on the compound would be killed without much thought. In fact, I argued heavily in favor of your immediate execution last night. No offense.”
“Sure, why would I be offended by that?”
“However, Eos brought up a number of salient points in favor of keeping you alive. I found her argument convincing, but we disagreed on what use to make of you. Eos favored keeping you here, but I cannot be seen with a leader’s daughter whispering in my ear.”
An attempt is made on my part to conceal the blatant surprise that Taylor cared enough about my well-being to go toe-to-toe with the leader of the rebellion. “But the optics of a leader’s daughter converted to a rebel, palling around with your scion of revolution?”
Theia smiles, evidently pleased at my deduction. “That I can make use of.”
“It’s not like I have much of a choice, is it?”
“There is always a choice, Luciana. We can make use of your expertise out in the field, or we can kill you right now.” Theia folds her hands in front of her. “I believe the former would be more beneficial.”
If Papa caught Taylor in the mansion, I’ve no doubt he’d have her tortured and killed. Would I have done anything to preventit, as she apparently did for me? “Look, I’ll obviously choose what keeps me alive the longest, but I don’t think people are going to be thrilled about me tagging along.”
“I am under no obligation to explain your presence to anyone,” Taylor says, cutting in.
“Regardless, it’s been my experience people cannot keep themselves from making me their business. I’m sure there’s enough acrimony toward my father in these woods, I could probably taste it.”
“Taste it? It would choke you,” Theia says. I gulp and instinctively rub my throat.
“I do not think many of our soldiers would recognize you.” Taylor’s interjection breaks the tension. “There is very little photographic evidence of you.”
Papa is adamant about protecting my identity. On the surface, it served to keep me safe from anyone wishing to harm the heir, but I understood it more as a method of control, since it often kept me inside the mansion. Of course, if Papa knew how many Underclass citizens I’d partied with over the years, he’d be furious. But, Taylor is probably right—no one outside our region, aside from high-ranking officials, would know me on sight. “You could give me one of your cute ancient Greek code names.”
“No. We will not hide who you are, but we will not parade you around.” Theia shrugs. “You seem like a smart girl. You see the operation we have. It’s simple. It’s military. Keep your head down, do as you’re told, and you may survive this rebellion after all.”
When I look over at my…captor? Protector? No word quite fits exactly what’s going on. Somewhere between keeper and conqueror. Shield and sword. She holds the blankest expression I’ve ever seen on any living thing, like a sheet of steel. I look back to Theia. “I’ve never been great at blending in. Or following orders.”
Theia circles my chair with deliberate steps. “It would behoove you to improve those skills.”
Keeping my eyes trained on her—because I’m genuinely concerned she might snatch me in her talons like an eagle—I nod. “Yes, I suppose it would. Behoove me. May I ask you a question?”
“You may.”
“Let’s say you’re successful and the region leaders are gone. What do you expect to happen afterward? Traditionally, removing a head of state without implementing an immediate replacement has not worked out so well.”
Visions of bloody coups and beheaded kings come to mind. Riotous crowds thirsting for vengeance. Power vacuums sucking a populace into an endless cycle of tyranny.
“We are not only removing the head of state,” she says carefully. “We are dismantling the system altogether.”
“And that doesn’t sound remotely chaotic to you?”
“The chaos is an open door,” Theia replies. “People are tired, Luciana. They want to stop fighting, they want peace. They want their country back. I believe chaos is the spark that will illuminate the path toward a brighter future.”
Of course she does—she has to believe in what she’s selling. “A brighter future for who? I don’t think the Upperclass is looking forward to this new world order. What will you do with them?”
“I don’t expect to do anything. We will tax their ill-gotten wealth and redistribute it back to the people. If they do not wish to comply, they may leave.” Her eyes narrow. “But their money stays.”
She speaks powerfully. She speaks as if more than Taylor and I sit in this room, as if the Five Regions can hear her. It’s seductive, especially if you’ve never been around true power before. To see it in person, intimately, intoxicates most. But Isuckled on it. “And when does it end? When you run out of people to kill on either side?”
“What would you suggest we do? Stage peaceful protests? Ask nicely?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. “If the question is violence, the answer is not violence.”
“A leader’s daughter morally opposed to warfare. How novel.” Theia hops up on the desk, legs dangling over the edge. I get the feeling she doesn’t find me novel so much as she finds me annoying. “I am not a warmonger, but I am a realist. Freedom is not free. Power must be taken back, by any means necessary.”
Taylor looks upset, though I can’t imagine this is news to her. She stands. “May we be dismissed?”
