or still too loyal to his own kind? After all, if we got the cure, we’d have the power to destroy the elite, or at least make them mortal again.
It was John Patten’s dream, one the king had killed him for. He’d destroyed an entire compound just to make sure it was buried with him. Now that the king knew I was renitent, he’d never stop hunting me. I was too dangerous, the only human alive who could resist his compulsion. And the elixir was the only way to stop him.
I flipped the book open to reveal the hidden compartment between the pages and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the key. It was exactly as I remembered it—thick, iron, with a decorative top and tied with a shiny red ribbon. I quickly slipped it in my pocket. The book’s pages fluttered open to a different page that had been earmarked, and my eyes fell to the passage which Damien must have read a hundred times. Next to it was a complex schematic of an engine.
Scrawled in the margins was a note.
These Infernal Devices…
I read it again in confusion. Why would Damien have these? I could tell he was suffering, but would he really go so far to hurt his own father, or his own kind? I felt a pain in my heart, thinking about him, locked up in this room all alone, as the citadel prepared for the wedding.
Dread filled my veins as I studied the plans. Without the elite to fix the purification engines, and enough elixir to counter the poisonous ash, humans would all have to go underground. I’d be forcing thousands of people out of their homes, to live like the rebels. Was that really in everyone’s best interests, or was I being selfish?
I pushed the thought away, then tore the page from the book. I wasn’t sure what it was yet, but I grabbed it anyway before heading to door. I’d just put my hand on the handle when someone else turned it from the other side.
7
I ducked behind the bookshelf just as the door swung inwards. A figure crept into the room, swiveling her neck before heading straight for a shelf full of pens and ink. She pulled a container from her cloak’s pocket and placed it back on the shelf. It looked like elixir at first, but it was bright red and there was so much of it. She wasn’t stealing, she was returning. I saw her face when she turned to leave. Claire, her face ashen and full of worry. I should have just stayed hidden, but I had to know what was happening.
I jumped out and covered her mouth with my hand to stifle her scream, then spun her around so she could see my face. Her eyes widened and she stopped struggling.
“Don’t yell, it’s just me.”
She nodded, and I slowly removed my hand.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, nodding towards the container of red ink. “What did you need that for, and why now – during the wedding?”
“It’s the only time I could be sure he wouldn’t be home.” Realization dawned on her face. “Is that why you’re here too? Whatever it is, it’s not worth the risk. You need to leave, immediately. It’s gotten worse since you’ve been gone, people are disappearing, he doesn’t even go through the farce of public trials anymore. Justice is swift and decisive.”
“And yet you risk everything, for what?”
Her expression steeled. I’d always considered her a timid girl, but for the first time I saw a glimpse of the ferocious woman developing inside.
“Freedom comes at a cost. Someone has to pay it.”
I wondered if she was reciting something from the rebels, or if they were her own words. Either way, it seemed there were still dissenters inside the walls.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she trembled. I glanced down at her hands and saw they were stained red, like mine, with patches of jagged marks creeping up her wrists.
“Claire, what exactly did you do?”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “You were already gone, we needed a distraction, Madam Brezing thought it would be a good idea,” she said, holding up her hands and turning them so I could see the thorny patterns.
“You need to leave. I can wash these off, but you can’t. If they find you, it’ll be worse than with Penelope. Just stay away from the stage.”