Canary Wharf’s fortified compound was fast becoming the last remaining safe haven. The summit between the land’s dwindling societies had been called weeks ago, but the ambassadorial parties had been attacked en route. Now that Oppenheimer had arrived from Bristol, they were at least all accounted for, but they had taken heavy losses. Unnervingly, the council members themselves didn’t have a scratch on them. It was their families, friends, aides, and subordinates who had been slaughtered.
It was almost as though the enemy knew about the summit and was keen to let it go ahead. The thought that they wanted to let them scurry around, squabbling in politics made the hairs on Norman’s neck stand on end.
The tower’s concrete walls and regiment of armed guards had kept back the tide thus far, but how long would that last? Who knew how many the enemy were? This place was no fortress, and its guards were few. They were calling it a siege, but if that became the reality, Norman didn’t like their chances.
And what of home? New Canterbury had guns and men, but no high walls. And they had no fewer defenceless folk than here. Now that he had heard just how many towns had been hit, it was a wonder that New Canterbury remained almost unscathed. They’d had break-ins and raids—Norman’s broken ribs could attest to that, not to mention Ray Hubble’s corpse—but no more. One death, one injury; it was nothing compared to the hundreds of bodies that lay in the enemy’s wake.
Again, it was almost as though they were being spared. New Canterbury had been revered as the home of the great Alexander Cain for so long that its name was synonymous with their cause. Now it looked as though its name was the only thing saving it. But that was all the more chilling, because if it were true then it could only mean one thing: they were being saved for last.
All that was left to them was the summit. There was still power among them. The enemy might be playing cat and mouse, but that couldn’t be justified. They were rabble, after all; a mass of farmers and traders brought together by a tenuous common goal. And they didn’t have Alexander.
Norman walked across the lobby and tried to keep his head held high. The looks aimed at him were the same, demanding and fawning, but he ignored them. Let them have their hopes. That was the least he could try to do for them. He would do anything to avoid the future Alexander had in mind for him, but that didn’t matter now; they all believed in him, even if his great destiny was all smoke, and that was all that mattered.
Not far from the stairwell, he spotted Allie. She was crouched down over a frail young girl in what had once been a pretty summer dress. It was Oppenheimer’s daughter. She was awake now, but lay very still as Allie whispered a constant stream of sweet babble. The little girl had just lost her siblings and her mother, but still the faintest of smiles was on her lips. Allie had a gift with words.
Norman tried to ignore the flutter in his chest, but it now came whenever he looked her way, and he could no longer ignore it. Allison Rutherford had been a spurious gossip not long ago, a newcomer in New Canterbury who could be relied on to incite rumour wherever she went.
War had changed her. Her eyes had hardened, her hearsay had shifted to fierce mummery, and even her soft rounded face seemed to have become older, more angular. In a few short months, she had blossomed into a true woman. And during that transition, Norman’s eyes had begun to linger.
It had been she who had stayed by his bedside after he had been attacked.
She caught his eye, and before he knew it, he was walking toward her and the little girl.
“Someone wants to meet you,” Allie said.
He knelt with difficulty beside them both, facing away from the prying eyes of the crowd, and tried to smile for the little girl. She returned the favour, though timidly, and her eyes flicked to Allie for comfort.
“It’s okay.” Allie gripped her forearm. “He’s not a grump, really. Most of the time.”
“Unless I skip breakfast. Then I grow gruffalo horns.”
The girl’s face remained pale and taut, but her brow relaxed a tad. Allie gave him an encouraging look, and together they leaned over