A loud gong reverberates throughout the room, buzzing through my skin.
Cass groans. “Time to prepare for my Officiation duties.”
My eyes travel longingly to the dining table. “Do you think I could take home some of that leftover food, for Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe?” I’m prepared to beg if I have to. Pride can’t fill an empty stomach.
He claps his hands together. “I have a better idea! The Recruitment gets underway within the hour. I’ll have a security detail escort you back to pick them up and return you to the Citadel. The three of you can watch the procession from my private box. There’ll be plenty of food and refreshment for all.”
Dampness smears his image. I blink him back into clarity. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His smile is radiant. “Me too. This is going to be a new beginning, Lucky. A new beginning for the Parish. For the Establishment. But most importantly, a new beginning for us.”
Eight
The lumbering steam coach transporting Cole, Mrs. Bledsoe, and myself back to the Citadel ebbs to a crawl about twenty feet in front of the tower’s massive iron doors. Rods and pistons screech to a halt. Coughing up a final shroud of vapor, the vehicle stops dead. When the haze clears, I almost buckle under the weight of the stares coming from the crowd jammed into both sides of the street for today’s ceremony. Fear and confusion as to why the three of us have been singled out for this special treatment is plastered on most of their faces. But it’s the piercing glares scattered throughout the pack that force my eyes away in shame.
Cole springs from the cab. “Hurry, Lucky! We’re gonna be late!” he cries over the clamor of the throng. He tugs my hand with both of his, urging me from the carriage.
“Take it easy, buddy. We’re just on time. The parade’s about to start. You haven’t missed any of it.” I hop to the ground. “Hey, what say you pretend I’m a caballus and ride me up to the observation box?”
He claps and jumps up and down a couple of times. “Can I, Lucky? Please?”
I scoop him up onto my shoulders, ignoring the pain. “Next stop, the Command Center, Sir!”
Cole tugs my ears. “Giddy-up!”
I turn to Mrs. Bledsoe, who’s still sitting in the coach. She looks even paler in the bright afternoon sunshine. “You’re so good with him,” she says. “Reminds me of you and your father.”
I take her hand and guide her out of the transport, into the hover chair that Cassius has so generously provided.
She fidgets in her seat, eyes suspicious. “I really don’t need this contraption, dear. I can walk. I’m not an invalid.”
“Nobody says you are.” I tug the seat belt snug around her. “Think of it as being queen for the day. We’re here to serve your every whim.”
She coughs into her handkerchief. “If I fall off, you’d better catch me.”
Our Imposer escort punches a button on one of the armrests. There’s a puff of exhaust from the propulsion unit underneath the chair.
“Oh!” Mrs. Bledsoe exclaims. The chair rises a few feet off the ground.
“I wanna ride the flying chair!” Cole’s heels tap against my chest.
My head twists up. “Hey. Behave yourself, or the ride ends now.”
He buries his face in my hair.
I squeeze his foot. “If you’re a good boy, you can ride it on the way back, deal?”
He bounces on my shoulders. “Deal!”
My eyes shift between Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. “Everyone ready?”
“Yes!” Cole shouts.
Mrs. Bledsoe wheezes. Her gaze crawls up the tower. “Not really, but let’s go.” She fiddles with the controls of her chair and it swerves toward the Citadel.
“This way,” the Imposer commands, then swivels on his heels and marches through the iron gates.
Taking a deep breath, I’m about to follow Mrs. Bledsoe across the threshold when a familiar figure in the crowd catches my eye.
Digory Tycho. His hair is hanging wildly about his face, framing his clenched jaw. The intensity in his eyes causes my heart to race.
I squeeze my passenger’s ankles. “Cole, why don’t you go inside? There’s something I need to do first.”
His heels dig into my chest. “Not fair! I wanna stay with you!”
I hunch down and pry him off me, setting him gently to the ground. “No whining. Mrs. Bledsoe will be with you. I’ll follow right behind, I promise. Don’t I always keep my promises?”
His lips thrust into a pout. “Yup.”
“Okay then. Go on now.”
I slap him on the butt and he runs toward Mrs. Bledsoe, whose forehead has sprouted more creases as she stares first at me, then at Digory. I mouth the words I’ll be right there and watch as Cole takes her hand, and then he and the hover chair are gobbled inside.
Before I even have the chance to fully turn around, Digory’s tugging my arm, pulling me into an alcove on the side of the building under the scowl of a stone gargoyle. He eyes me up and down. “You’re okay! I heard you’d been captured by the Imps. But that’s impossible. You’re here, safe.”
I poke my head out of the niche and peer around the corner, scanning the crowd to make sure no one’s listening. But they’re all riveted on the procession winding down the boulevard. I melt back into the shadows. “Actually, you heard right. I was taken in for questioning. But everything’s fine now. It was all a misunderstanding.”
Digory’s eyes taper into slits. “How’s that possible? No one gets released on good behavior.”
I shake my head. “It’s a long story and I don’t have time to explain right now.”
There’s a loud whinny from one of the caballuses in the procession, followed by a few screams. One of the bystanders is barely pulled out of the beast’s path by the crowd. Its rider, Prior Delvecchio, gallops ahead without even a look back. I huddle closer to Digory so he can hear me above the commotion. “There’s something more important I need to talk to you about. Remember when you asked me why I was breaking curfew?”
He nods, still looking at me funny.
“There was someone here I had to see. Someone I needed to ask for help.”
His eyes brush the Citadel’s walls, painting them with contempt. “There’s no one inside this … this place … who would help anyone.” When he looks back at me, understanding dawns on his face, mixed with fear. “But if you got released, it must mean you’re cozy with one of the higher-ups. And the only person with that kind of authority is the new Prefect, Cassius Thorn.” He slaps his forehead. “Of course! You two! I remember. You were always together before he left the Parish … ”
My pulse sprints. “How did you know-?”
He grabs my hands. “Believe me, Lucian. He’s not the same anymore. No one who could rise to that position so quickly could ever be.”
I pull away. “He’s not like the others. He wants to help.”
Digory backs away. “What are you talking about? What did you tell him?”
“Relax. I didn’t tell him anything. It’s what he told me. He wants to change things. He really does care about the citizens of the Parish.”
Digory sighs. “And you believe that?”
“It’s true. He wants to meet with the leaders of the rebellion, have a face-to-face, hear their grievances, reach a compromise.”
Digory crosses his arms. “How exactly does he plan to accomplish this?”
“Through … ” I clear my throat. “Through me.”
“You mean through me, don’t you?”
“What?”
He moves close again, squeezing my arms. “You didn’t tell him about what we talked about, did you?”
“Of course not!” I shake myself loose. I notice several onlookers giving us the eye and lower my voice. “All he did was ask me to pave the way. I didn’t promise him anything. That’s why I’m telling you now. I wanted to run it by you before-”